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While I didn’t expect him to like the idea of me not trusting him, I didn’t expect him to offer to jerk my dick either.
When his delicate, soft hands encircled my cock, I almost came right then. It’s been so long since someone has touched me and even longer since they did it how I liked without me having to give them direction. He used the right amount of pressure, stroking from base to tip with ease. How he was looking at my cock like he couldn’t wait to suck me off, it turned me on too much to describe.
Then his pillowy lips wrapped around my thumb had my control snapping. I took his lips in a filthy kiss, something I had no intentions of doing, but enjoyed more than I could put into words.
Then feeling his cum on me? Didn’t think that would have my cock trying to rally for a round two.
I never had any thoughts of a man touching me, of kissing one, or having a man come on my thigh. But fuck if it didn’t feel fucking good.
Am I losing my mind? I’m thirty-eight years old and I’ve never acted on the desire to fuck a man, no matter how many times Zeke offered to share one of his men with me. I get trapped with Finn and it’s all I can think about. Hell, do I have Stockholm Syndrome?
I shake my head to dismiss that thought. There’s no other reason than I want Finn. I never thought the day would come where I would actually act on sleeping with a man. I never thought the day would come where I kissed a man and let him spray his spunk all over me.
My cock starts to chub up when I think about how his cum felt on my thigh, how his lips parted when he came, and how hot his eyes looked when he released. I’ve never seen anything like it.
When I fucked women, even when they came, I never saw this unabashed arousal. I never saw their lust reflected back at me. I never saw them lose control and show me that loss of control.
The way Finn writhed and cursed while he was getting himself off was one of the most arousing sights I can remember seeing and I’ve watched plenty of women fuck each other. There was something about what Finn showed me that really got me off.
I’m not sure where it goes from here. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be out of the country in about two weeks and I’ll never see Finn again. Maybe that’s the way it’s meant to be. I’m not sure if I suddenly like men or if I just like Finn, but I don’t really want to think about it. I want to think about my freedom, the house they have for me being move in ready and being a free man again. Thinking of my love affair with a man I kidnapped is just too much.
Scoffing, I dry my hair and look over at Finn doing the same. His face is flushed but relaxed. There will be no time for us to fall in love, so it won’t be a love affair. If he wants, we can fuck a few times—I definitely want to feel those pillow soft lips around my cock—then I’ll let him go and we’ll go about our lives.
Finn releases a shaky breath and I look over at him. “What’s your problem?” I ask, knowing I sound gruff, but a bunch of stuff is swirling around my head and I can’t begin to be more pleasant.
He looks at me with a shaky smile. “I can brush your hair again. If you want.”
Grabbing a handful, I bring it around to look at and frown. “I’m just gonna cut it off.”
“Please, no,” Finn mutters, stepping closer to me, his creamy skin catching my eye in a way no one has in … probably ever. “I like it. At least … wait until you leave?”
Staring into his eyes, he looks unsure, but I don’t think he’ll take it back. “As long as you brush it every day, I’ll grow it as long as you’d like.”
His smile is blinding. I’m not sure why he’s happy, since he’s technically a kidnapping victim, but as long as he doesn’t run off or say anything he shouldn’t, I won’t question it.
After we dress, I get started on cooking eggs and sausage for our breakfast while Finn turns the television on. The news report catches my attention and I move the eggs from the stovetop.
The reporter flashes a bright smile, like she isn’t about to say some shit about me. I roll my eyes in irritation but listen to what she has to say.
Breaking news. There was a suspected sighting of murderer and escaped convict, Raxel James, in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. The tip came in at eight twenty-three pm, where a gas station attendant reported that James was seen filling up a late model blue sedan. When he saw the attendant taking a video, it’s said James immediately stopped pumping his gas and returned behind the wheel, headed southbound on Highway Twelve. The footage is grainy, but you can just make out the large Devil’s Mayhem tattoo that adorns James’s neck. Unfortunately, by the time authorities arrived, the suspect was long gone. The gas station attendant was able to get partial plates that the authorities haven’t released yet. If you see the suspect, do not approach. He is considered armed and dangerous.
His victim, Finnegan Coombs, was not spotted with him. Authorities are hoping that James let him go, but with his track record, it’s not very likely. Stay tuned for more breaking news.
Glancing at Finn, I expect to see his body just as relaxed as it was after I made him come, but it’s tight now. I hope he doesn’t go back to being afraid of me and try to run again. There are no phones here for him to call the cops except my burner, which I keep on me at all times, so I’m not worried there. I’m mostly worried about him slipping away and flagging down a passing motorist to tell them I’m holed up here while I’m asleep.
Hoping I’m wrong and he’s just holding in whatever he wants to say, I walk around to the living room, placing a plate in his limp hands. I sit, shoveling eggs in my mouth—they could use more salt—and hoping whatever Finn is feeling, he tells me.
But his face is blank. He’s still staring at the television, even though it’s muted and on a pet food commercial.
“Eat,” I urge, pointing to his food with my fork.
Finn does what I say, placing a small forkful of eggs into his mouth. He chews woodenly, then bites daintily into his sausage.
After a few tense minutes, where I clean my plate, Finn scoffs and tosses his plate on the table, making it rattle. He places his head in his hands and takes a deep breath.
For some reason I can’t explain, my stomach plummets to my feet. I try to find the source of this feeling and realize that I was beginning to trust Finn. We only had one conversation about it and I rarely trust those outside my MC family, but I thought when I gave Finn my word, he’d given me his. He has nothing he can use to hurt me. Nothing but the information he knows.
Sitting forward on the chair, I bark at Finn, “You need to speak and you need to speak now.”
