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I lean over the chair and open his reply.
Are you wearing them now?
My face flushes. I don’t know if I should respond—or how. I test out responses in my head.
No, you pervert.
No, my boyfriend already took them off.
No, I’m naked under here.
“What’s that?” Finn asks from behind me.
My heart jumps into my throat. Fuck. Now I look guilty. I stand up straight. “Some guy e-mailed you asking about the photo of me in the stockings. I replied to be nice, but . . . his answer was . . .”
Finn hugs me from behind and reads over my shoulder. He chuckles. “Pervert.”
“Exactly my thought.”
“Can I blame him? Nobody likes those tights as much as I do.” Finn nibbles my ear. “Fuck, this blanket is soft. I just want to rub my dick on it.”
I smile. “What’s stopping you?”
“Good point.” He keeps one arm around me while presumably removing his underwear. Next thing I feel is his length through the throw as he slides up and down the crack of my ass.
“Please don’t ruin it, though,” I add.
He clears some of my hair from my shoulder and kisses my neck. “I wouldn’t waste a good load on a blanket.”
My stomach clenches remembering how Finn came all over my backside. It was a first for me, and a power play that I surprisingly loved. He’s done it once more on my stomach. “For a man who wouldn’t get within five feet of me without a condom on, you’ve really come around to not using one.”
“Because I love to feel you,” he whispers in my ear. “Reminds me that you’re mine.”
Goosebumps rise over my skin. I have nowhere to look but at the computer, so I notice right away when a small box pops up in the corner of the screen.
Jack has invited you to chat
“Huh.”
“What?” Finn asks.
“Look. That guy wants to talk to me.”
“Wonder what he could possibly want to say.”
So do I. Maybe he’s going to ask about another picture. I wiggle an arm free and bend forward to accept his invitation.
Jack: If I promise not to ruin them, will you leave them on?
“I was being facetious,” Finn says. He stops touching me. “What’s he talking about?”
“The stockings.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
I get the chills. A total stranger wants to fuck me. Right? Why else would he send a message like that? I realize that in all likelihood, there might be several strangers who feel that way.
Finn runs his hand down my front, parts the blanket, and feels me. “You’re wet.”
“I am?”
“Your face is red.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? You’re turned on by this?”
Am I? It’s not the worst feeling to be wanted by men, even if they might be creeps. I’m not used to that kind of attention, at least not more than the average girl gets. “I guess I kind of am.”
“Hmm.” He runs a finger along my slit but doesn’t enter me. “Do you want to respond?”
I bite my bottom lip. “Can I?”
He hesitates. “What makes you think I’d let you? You know I’m not keen on sharing.”
“It isn’t really sharing,” I point out. “You’re here. You’re in charge. He’s not.”
He inhales sharply in my ear, teasing my entrance with his finger. “I like the sound of that. Go ahead, if you’re comfortable with it.”
I swallow. I don’t know what to say to Jack’s question. Finn pulls the blanket from my shoulders so my hands are free. I lean toward the computer and re-read his message.
Jack: If I promise not to ruin them, will you leave them on?
Me: No. They were expensive. You might tear them.
I hit send a get a rush of adrenaline. I never tell Finn no. I don’t want to. But Jack isn’t Finn. Jack has zero power over me.
Jack: Then I’ll take them off. Slowly.
Jack: I’ll start with your right leg, peel them from thigh to ankle. What color are your toenails?
Finn pulls out the leather desk chair and sits down. Just as I think he’s about to shut this down, he pats the seat. “Come.”
I sit between his legs. With his hands resting on my thighs, he sticks his chin on my shoulder. “Tell him.”
Me: Red.
Jack: You’re my dream girl.
Jack: Sorry if that’s too romantic. I’m a writer too. Like you.
The air around us gets tense. His comment is personal, as if he knows me. I guess, in a way, he does. He’s read my innermost thoughts without ever having met me . . . just like Finn did. The clock in the top corner of the computer changes to 12:08 A.M.
“What should I say?” I ask.
Finn rubs my leg. “Tell him he can’t have you.”
Me: I have a boyfriend.
Jack: Of course you do. I won’t try to romance you, then.
A nugget of disappointment forms in my stomach. I wanted to see where this would go. I never did things like this in my past life. It’s exciting, dangerous, but since Finn is here, it’s also safe. To my relief, the computer dings again.
Jack: Let’s not stop at the stockings. I want to see all of you. Take off your dress.
I wait for Finn to stop me. I don’t want him too, but I don’t want to make him mad.
“It’s off,” Finn whispers in my ear, making me shiver.
Me: It’s off.
Jack: Now everything else.
Finn gathers my hair in a loose ponytail and hangs it over my shoulder. He opens the clasp of my bra and gently drags the straps over my shoulders. I’m so wet already, I feel it on the leather underneath me. And it’s not just me. Finn is rigid against me, and I swear I feel his moisture on my back.
Jack: Are you naked?
Me: Yes.
Jack: Good girl. Since I don’t have to worry about the stockings, I don’t need to be careful with you. Do I?
Finn reaches around me to respond.
Me: No.
A few seconds go by without a response. Finn runs his big, impatient hands down my arms to my wrists, then up my knees, along the insides of my thighs. My heart beats so hard, I feel it at the base of my neck.
Jack: Here’s what I’d do if I were there. I’d make you spread your legs open so I could see how wet you are. Do you need a little help getting wet?
Me: Yes.
Jack: My pleasure. How many fingers do you want?
“Sick fuck,” Finn breathes onto my neck. But he parts my thighs as far as they’ll go, which isn’t much since he’s boxing me in, and slides two fingers inside me. I drop my head back on his shoulder. “More.”
Finn shows me his glistening hand. “One or two?”
Four fingers scares the crap out of me. “One.”
Finn types for me.
Me: Three.
