“Hold out your tongue.”
I play there for a minute, rubbing my tip against her flattened tongue, and then before she can close her lips around me, I pull her head forward sliding half of my length into her mouth, nudging the back of her throat. She immediately sputters and gags. Shit. But when I try to pull away, she grips my hips. Determined, she takes in more and more until there are tears running down her cheek, and her eyes grow red. She draws me in again. Over and over. Determined as all hell. I eventually watch her breathing start to steady—in and out, through her nose. The panic subsides. After several more tries, I watch in surprise as most of my cock disappears down her throat. She can only hold it for a second, and she rips away, gasping for air. She’s breathing hard, her face flushed, her eyes still watering, but she looks thoroughly pleased with herself.
“There we go, that’s closer. Seventh time’s the charm.” There’s a silly smile on her face. But I’m in no mood for jokes.
Goddamn, that was sexy. So fucking sexy. My balls clench, and I grab my pulsing cock in my hand.
“Avery, baby, can you swallow for me?” I ask between my ragged breaths.
“Yes.”
“Good girl, just take the tip and hold my balls.”
Stroking myself, I talk her through my release until I spill down her throat. I go rigid as I groan in delight, emptying every last drop into her mouth. I wait for her audible gulp until I slump back into the couch, the fabric soft against my bare ass. Sorry, Dex.
“Good job, baby.” I praise her wholeheartedly and she’s glowing under the attention. “You did so—”
I’m interrupted when Avery’s phone rings loud from the kitchen, cutting the tension between us. She immediately jumps up, but her legs must have fallen asleep from being on her knees for so long. She winces and stumbles and I reach out to help steady her, but she recovers too quickly, darting over to her phone. I watch her puzzled expression as she scours the caller ID.
She points to the phone. “I think it’s work. I have to—”
“Go ahead.”
“Hello, this is Avery Scott,” she says into the phone as I proceed to pull on my briefs and pants. “Mr. Mahan, I wasn’t expecting a call. Thank you.”
The angry beast in my chest rumbles. It’s the “Mr.” that irks me. It’s work. Calm down, Finn. This could be a crusty old dude in his sixties for all I know, but I can’t shake this greedy urge that reared its ugly head tonight with Avery. It’s official. I want her for myself. No one is going to treat her like I will. No other man will be as dedicated as I am to making this woman see how beautiful she is, inside and out. If I can do it best, then she should just be with me. It’s that simple. Yes, it’s too soon. Sure, we’re on a timeline. I know it’s just a damn deal for the summer—but I don’t care.
I’m happy. I’m fucking happy. I bet I can make her happy too.
Avery, completely unaware of my sudden revelation, continues to talk in a foreign tone. I’m learning her business voice sounds just like a flight attendant.
“Well, that was my primary concern as well. From the preliminary research I’ve done, it looks like commercials are a good idea, but I don’t think local cable is your best option. Streaming services are ideal, but timing is everything. Especially for your click traffic, summer is not the time to heavily invest—trips are already planned. You needed to make the placements around the end of February. That’s the sweet spot. Consumers have mostly recovered from the holidays and are debating between investing in spring break or summer travel plans… Right, exactly…”
I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about, but she adjusts her tits back into her tank top and straightens her back before she begins pacing. Even barefoot, she looks like a boss at the moment. She’s suddenly wearing her sexy, take-over-the-world, confident, I-got-this attitude. It’s such a turn-on, and if she’s up for it, I’m going to rest for ten minutes and then bend her over this couch.
“Mr. Mahan, I’d love to talk numbers, but would you mind holding for just a moment… Okay, thank you.”
“Finn?” Avery asks, turning her attention to me.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“I just put the Chief of Marketing for Legacy Resorts on hold. That’s the multimillion-dollar contract I told you I’m trying to land. He’s about to conference in the Chief Financial Officer and VP because apparently, they’ve been eager to chat with me. I have to—”
I hold up my palms as I rise. “Say no more.” I cross the space between us.
“You don’t have to go,” she says. “But…this might take a while.”
Leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead, I breathe in her hair, enjoying the smell of tropical, ginger, and mint. “You focus. I’ll see myself out.” I grab the bowl behind her on the kitchen table. “But I’m taking the buffalo chicken dip.”
She giggles. “All yours. Oh, but heat it up first.” She catches my hand and squeezes it tenderly. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Of course. Oh, and, Queen?”
She melts under that nickname. I love it when the color fills her cheeks when she swoons for me.
“That head? Ten out of ten, baby.”
With that, I leave her to her call, feeling a medley of new emotions at once: satisfied…hopeful…happy…ready.
I’m ready for this.
23
Avery
I thought a virtual morning coffee date with my best friend would be a good idea. Sassiness aside, I miss her. She’s more family than friend, and this is the longest we’ve gone without talking in at least a decade. But the problem with very long-term friendships is that sometimes you’ve excused the bad behavior for so long, you almost don’t recognize it.
“Palmer,” I say, staring at the side of her face, her eyes clearly on her phone off screen as she’s texting. “Do you need to go?”
“One sec,” she mumbles and I hear her pecking away at her phone. Whomever she’s messaging must be getting an earful.
“Because I can call you back.” She’s been ignoring me for at least five minutes now. I thought a face-to-face conversation might help us connect.
“Just one sec.”
Over the past month, I’ve been spending all my free time with Finn—okay, under Finn—and with Lennox. It’s never this complicated with them. I never have to beg for eye contact or their attention. Why does Palmer treat me this way when it’d be so easy to be decent to me? Why do we trample on the ones we love? I’m almost bothered that my new friends are unintentionally pointing out the glaring issues in my oldest friendship.
I wait another two minutes before I inform her, “Okay then. I’ll try and catch you another time when you’re—”
“There,” she grumbles. She puts her phone down and faces me head-on. She adjusts her iPad, realizing she was only in half of the frame this entire time. “So sensitive. It was a work thing. Sorry, there’s drama going on and it’s stressing me the fuck out. Some girl is trying to get me fired.”
And here is the quintessential problem with my relationship with Palmer. Instinctively, I’m too protective and overly concerned. I can complain about her obnoxious nuances, but I’m the only one who can. Because I love her. Because I always have her best intentions at heart. And while I have to gently remind her, almost daily, how not to be a shit friend, nobody threatens Palmer. I become a bulldog with a big bark when it comes to my best friend.