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Wrong.
You see, what the note failed to mention is that my boss’s son would wind up walking in on me with a vibrator between my legs…
I found the toy shortly after Finn dropped us off, and at first, I had no intention of using the damn thing. Until I stepped out of the shower in my nightgown at around eleven and saw the box sitting on my nightstand.
It was obvious that Finn was just messing with me and didn’t expect me to use it, which, for some reason, made me want to use it even more. I decided it couldn’t hurt to try a toy for the first time, which brings us to the most mortifying moment of my life.
“Finn, what the fuck?” My voice comes out as a shrill and panicky yelp.
I sit up and yank the blanket over my body. I’m wearing nothing but a bra and an opened robe, but I don’t want to risk flashing him by closing it.
And what’s worse, I was so focused on not showing him the goods that I didn’t get the chance to turn off the toy. It’s still vibrating and pulsing between my legs, and the newfound angle is, well, a revelation.
Fuck.
Not now.
“Need some help with that?” Finn stands in my doorway, his arms folded over his chest and his shoulder braced against the threshold.
I want to disintegrate when he gives me a slow body scan.
Shit.
That look.
He’s looking at me like an animal contemplating his next meal. Like a monster waiting to crawl out from under my bed and scar me for life.
Not to mention he saw my breast.
The horror.
Even if it was just for a few seconds, he—
Wait.
My eyes dart to his pants, to the bulge pushing against the fabric, tearing at the seams. He’s hard as steel and not even a little embarrassed by it. My lips part when I realize…
He didn’t see me for just one second, did he?
“Have you been watching the whole thing?” I spit, and my cheeks smolder with a mix of rage and shame.
“Eh, more like witnessing it.” Finn shrugs, cool as a fucking cucumber, and the pressure between my legs decides now is a good time to defy my brain. A quiet moan slips from my lips, cutting through the air.
His eyes immediately flare.
“You think thatfeels good, Mitchell?” Finn scorns, his use of my last name and the red flags in his voice fueling my vulnerability. “You think this isanythingcompared to what I would do to you? Anything compared to my tongue and my fingers? Cute.”
Oh my…
“You’re doing it wrong, by the way,” he adds, drilling his focus into the toy working my sweet spot under the blanket.
Is he serious?
“I don’t need your tips. Get the fuck out!” I fire back.
“Oh, sweetheart… I’d give you more than the tip.”
My mouth goes from slightly ajar to wide open, and I feel so powerless it’s dizzying. I can’t let him have all the power here. I’ve done nothing but suffer at his hands these past few weeks—technically, the time in the wine cellar had to do with another part of his body—and I’m done.
