Snatched

Harton wins— barely, and largely thanks to a bad kick on the other team’s part. The stadium goes wild, sportscasters attempt to get close to key players for interviews. When they try to find Finn, he’s disappeared. They settle for Adams.

“We saw you giving Finn Thorne some advice there just before the second half started— what did you say?” A peppy woman in a red dress asks, shoving a microphone in Adams face. I have to wonder how tall the woman’s heels are, that she even reaches Adams’ chest height.

Adams grins; Mandy scowls audibly next to me. “You know, young players like that sometimes get fixated on the wrong thing. I was just trying to get his head in the game. It’s important to me that I leave a strong team when I go.”

“Indeed— and us Harton fans are grateful! Rumor is that you donated one of your own friends and family tickets to make sure Finn’s father could come see him play today. Is that true?”

“Of course! I happened to meet Finn’s dad and he was so excited about his kid—everyone ought to get to come see their son play,” Adams says. How is no one else noticing the devilish gleam in his eye? Not devilish-sexy-cool, just straight up, monster-devilish.

“What you just said, that— that’s what it is to be on a team,” the woman says. “Back to you in the studio.”

“Where do you think Finn ran off to so soon?” Mandy wonders aloud as she clicks off the television.

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

I really don’t. I don’t have a clue where Finn is right now, hurting, angry, probably alone. And the not knowing is killing me.

Chapter 16

I never knew I could miss sex so much before I started having it with Finn.

I suppose that’s why I take my vibrator out of my underwear drawer a week after the football game— I can’t stand going without something any longer. It’s a cheap one that a friend got me ages ago as a partial-joke, but it’s always gotten the job done before, and I’m not convinced I can get myself there with just my hand if Finn isn’t around to make doing it so unbearably hot.

I wait until I hear Mandy leave with Bradley for Olive Garden— yes, for whatever reason, my sister has wanted all Olive Garden all the time lately, even though it’s basically the worst— to turn the lights off and lie back on my bed. In the dark, I can almost, almost imagine that Finn is here with me. I inhale deeply, convince myself that I can smell the spicy scent of his skin, that I can feel the heat rising from his body, that his broad shoulders are above me.

Finn— imaginary Finn, as it were— doesn’t speak to me; he kisses my neck, gently, then pulls my arms above my head and holds them there easily, pinning my wrists down with one of his large palms. I don’t fight it, but I know I couldn’t break free even if I tried— he’s too strong. He presses his free hand firmly against my side, then slides it down to my legs. I fight him for a moment, keeping my thighs together, and I hear him make an amused sound from his throat; it takes nothing for him to push his hand between my legs and force them apart. His fingers slide along my slit, then his thumb comes to rest on my clit, circling its edges expertly. I moan and arch my back in response.

Finn continues to stroke my clit as he slides one finger into my pussy, turning it so that it rubs against the front wall, where I’m most sensitive. His fingers there and on my clit make me tremble with want, and I begin to pant. I want him to bring me close, then fuck me the rest of the way to my orgasm. I want to feel him come in me again. I want him, I want him, I want him.

My hips begin to pulse up and down in time with his touch, and my body heats up in unusual places— my eyelids, the backs of my knees, the places under my breasts, like my brain isn’t sure how to process being aroused this much.

Finn releases my wrists and climbs on top of me, he body engulfing mine. He lines his cock up with my pussy and hesitates, teasing me, making me desperate. When I think I may burst from need, he relents, and pushes into me, filling me, releasing me. I moan loudly and tilt my head back; he leans down and runs his tongue along my neck as he thrusts into me, gaining speed.

Even as he quickens his pace, he always fills me completely with long, solid strokes, and I can feel his cock swelling in me as fucking me makes him harder. The fact that I do this to him— the fact that being in me does this to him— rounds my edges, knocks the last few corners of sanity I had away.