Page 101 of Always Him

Hmm, yes I like this idea. I slide in right next to him and eye the menu.

“Holy shit, Finn,” I say, my eyes widening in surprise. “This is so expensive.”

“Yeah, well I have money saved up from when I worked in the gym last semester, and I want to spend it on you. So don’t be weird about it…”

“Finn,” I protest, but he just shuts me up with a kiss. A really filthy one with a lot of tongue. The waiter arrives, bringing bread and some kind of balsamic dip, and Finn shuts me up by feeding me pieces of it. Slowly.

By the time dinner is over, I am about ready to just roll my way back to the hotel room. I can’t feel my leg and my stomach has expanded to the size of a balloon.

“Finn, if you stick your dick inside of me tonight, I might pop,” I groan.

He chuckles, holding out a forkful of chocolate cake, and I lean forward and gobble it down.

Willy Wonka has nothing on me. Who was that kid who drank the chocolate river and got swept away?

Gluttonous little fucker. I would have done the same thing. Just drown me in chocolate sauce.

“God, this is good,” I moan around my mouthful and Finn smirks. “Why is this so good?”

“Knew you’d like it.”

“Yes, well, I do like it. I’m going to lick the plate and then I’m just going to keel over and die, Finn.”

He chuckles again, feeding me another bite.

“You’re going to have to carry me out of here,” I warn him. I mean, I’m serious. I won’t be able to walk out of here. Between my ass being wrecked earlier and consuming a small colony I won’t be able to wiggle out of this booth.

“I can do that,” he says, taking a bite of the chocolate cake himself. I watch the way his tongue slides along the piece of silverware, all sexual. That fork is a lucky bastard.

I want that tongue on me. Like all the time.

We finish off the cake slowly, my dick getting harder and harder each minute because he’s assaulting that fork, trying to torture me.

And when I finally swallow the last bite of dessert, I sink down in the booth as far as I can and unbutton my pants.

God, that feels so much better. Who invented jeans anyway? They’re constricting and awful. I want to wear sweatpants all the time, or maybe a dress. A long flowy one. I suck in a deep breath. Shit, the food is crushing my lungs. I can barely breathe. That’s how full I am.

“I should have come here naked. I’m going to have to take my jeans off just to stand up. I’ll walk out of here in my boxers. I have no shame, Finn.”

Finn reaches over and wipes some chocolate frosting off my face with his thumb, that digit going into his mouth and that tongue that’s been torturing me all night peeks out once more. Teasing me.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” I hiss.

When he just raises his eyebrows in question, I wave my hand lazily in front of me. “That thing you’re doing with your tongue. You’re teasing me with it. I want you to do things with that tongue, but I can’t even move. I think sex would absolutely kill me right now. I doubt I can even bend over at this point.”

Finn leans back against the booth and pulls his phone from his pocket.

“Yes, well that was my evil, villainous plan all along, you sex fiend. I need you incapacitated.”

“Pfft. Asshole.”

He smiles softly at me, and then says, “I want to take a picture. Of us.”

“Oh god, but look at me,” I groan, and Finn’s eyes slide across me, eating me up. Like he hasn’t just gorged himself on food. Like he wants to consume me too.

“You look so hot,” he says and I stare down at my bloated stomach.

“Sheesh, you have low standards,” I say and Finn rolls his eyes, but I’m too full to protest. “Fine, fine we can take a picture as long as you tell everyone your boyfriend looks better in real life.”

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