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“Finn.”
I’m never going to get tired of hearing her same my name. Especially when she says it likethat. Like uttering my name is the only thing keeping her grounded right now.
Fucking hell, she’s amazing.
Between the sounds she’s making and the feel of her soft ass bouncing against me as she pushes herself back, eagerly meeting my every stroke, I’m on the cusp of losing it. But I can’t, not yet.
I bring a hand down to her pussy and feel for her clit.
“Oh my fucking God.”
She brings her hand down to meet mine, covers it, and starts guiding my finger until we find a pace that makes her start to shake.
“I’m so close. Please—” The hand she has on the window drops and she slumps downwards. I wrap my free arm around her waist, holding her up as best I can in the limited space. “Please don’t stop, sweetheart.”
And—
Fuck.
Hearinghercallmesweetheart might just be what does me in completely. I crowd over her, press my lips against her shoulder and murmur three words I wish I could say out loud.
I’ll tell her eventually – the words are practically clawing at my throat, desperate to be heard – but not now. Not in the backseat of my car while she fucks my cock and fingers at the same time. I’ve got a plan and I intend on sticking to it.
Her body stiffens slightly and I catch a glimpse of her face reflected in the window in front of us. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is slack as she lolls her head backwards to rest against my chest.
“Come for me, love.”
And she does, like she was simply waiting for my command.
“Finn.”
My groans and her cries mix together until they’re practically indistinguishable as I bury myself as deep as I can and come inside her.
She forces herself onto her haunches, pushing me back onto mine, and finds my lips with a hunger I easily match.
“I missed you,” she murmurs in between kisses. “I missed you so much.”
“You’re here now,” I whisper. And in two weeks she’ll be gone again. The thought makes my stomach twist, but I push it out of my mind. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
Amber’s eyesroll back and she breathes out a satisfied sigh. “This issogood.”
“I told you,” I say with a grin. “Best pizza in the world.”
She takes another bite of her slice – there’s no hot sauce, but it’s spicy sausage and mushrooms, so it’salmostjust how she likes it – and gives me another pleased little hum. “It’s definitely up there.Rosa’scould give this place a run for its money though.”
We’re taking a brief detour before we head over to my place, and I’m fulfilling a promise I made back in London. We’re tucked away in a tiny restaurant in the heart of New York City. It’s squashed between several larger establishments, all with brightly coloured signs outside and long lines spilling out of the door, but nothing beatsLouie’s. It doesn’t matter that the only seats available are a handful of uncomfortable white plastic chairs and tables, or that the menu is functionally useless, or even the fact that I don’t think the air-con has worked once in the ten years that I’ve been coming here –Louie’shas the best pizza in New York. Maybe even the world.
It’s my favourite secret, but I don’t mind sharing it with her. There’s a lot I wouldn’t mind sharing with Amber.
I still can’t quite believe she’s here, and I keep catching myself reaching for her hand or sidling closer to her as if I’m trying to reassure myself that this is real. This is happening. Amber is here in New York with me.
“Why’re you smiling like that?”
“Like what?” I try and school my expression into something neutral but, judging by the way she narrows her eyes, I’m not succeeding.
“Like you’re up to something.”
