Two Weeks and a Day (Finn's Pub Romance 2)

Cherry-flavored Miller.

I didn’t lie—this may be my first time, but it’s also one of my favorite fantasies. After my reaction to his ass in those boxers, I’ve been imagining that night going differently. Instead of saying things I don’t mean, I drop to my knees and bury my face between those cheeks instead.

This is what I wanted. Miller at his most vulnerable. The tight ring of muscles I want to explore, the place I want my cock to call home. I memorize it with my tongue, biting and sucking on the tight flesh around the hole until he’s swearing. Then I slide two fingers inside, stretching him so he can take more as I lick around them.

God, I could fuck him like this. With my tongue. Could I get deep enough to get him off with my mouth? Just feast on the tight bud until he comes again?

“Fuck me, Bren. Please fuck me,” he begs hoarsely.

At his plea, I rock against the mattress, wanting that more than anything. But I hesitate, loving his reaction to my tongue.

“I need your cock inside me, damn it.”

I lift up at that, snag a condom and rip the package with my teeth, taking in his red face and swollen lips. So fucking sexy.

I won’t be able to last if I’m looking into those golden eyes while I bury myself inside him for the first time. “I need you on your knees.”

There’s enough give in the cord, though I know it tightens when I reach for his hips and flip him over. “Too much?”

“It’s good,” he says breathlessly. “I love it. Don’t stop now.”

I don’t think I can. I barely recognize myself as I roll on the condom and guide my stiff erection home. “I’ll try to go slow.”

He shakes his head rapidly, muttering under his breath as I slide one hand up his back to his shoulder and push forward.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Son of a bitch,” Miller groans.

I stop, every cell in my body protesting. “You okay?”

“It’s a lot.” His laugh is choppy. “You’re a lot. Just getting used to it.”

“Can you take more?”

Don’t say no.

Miller sends me a hot, frustrated look over his shoulder. “I’m tied up, aren’t I? You’re the one who decides what I can and can’t take.”

It’s like waving a red cape in front of a bull. He doesn’t understand how close I am to losing it. I dig my fingers into his shoulder and squeeze his hip with my free hand. “A wild streak and mouthy?”

“You bring it out in me,” he says, lifting his hips higher in submission.

“Fuck.” I press forward with one steady, forceful thrust that has me flush against his ass. “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

Miller is shaking, white-knuckling the bedpost, but he doesn’t tell me to stop. He doesn’t pull away. He’s so damn tight, I feel like my head might explode. I want to shout loud enough for the whole damn city to hear.

“Mine. I got here first. Stay away.”

I don’t want to hurt him, but I need to move. I take some deep breaths and stare at the wall, trying to think of anything else to calm me down or this will all be over before it can start.

How can I think of anything else?

I drag my cock back and stroke deep. His moan of pleasure tells me to do it again. And again. And oh fuck, how did I not know it would be this fucking good?

“Now that I know how this feels, you won’t be able to get rid of me.” I watch my shaft disappearing in his ass and feel a growl building in my chest. “It’s too good, Millie. Warm and tight.” And mine. “You’ll have to lock your bedroom door if you want me to stay away.”

“Oh God, that’s hot,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

“You like hearing that? Knowing I’ll be thinking about this every time you walk by? Wondering when I can get back inside?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “I love hearing it.”

I love it too. Love that I’m the only one who knows how this feels. How tightly his muscles are squeezing me. How much he likes it when I lift my hand from his shoulder to tangle it in his messy hair.

I’m the only one who knows how hard he can take it.

He pushes back against me, begging until my hips are slamming against him in a punishing rhythm. Harder. Deeper. Fuck, I can’t get deep enough.

“Harder.”

“I have to—need to…” I can’t focus on anything but how good he feels stretched around me. How much I need to come.

I hear the creak of the old bedpost as he grips it tighter, his cries and the sounds of slapping skin as I take more.

Faster. Harder.

“Yes. I’m almost— Damn it, Brendan. Touch me.”

I have just enough awareness left to slip my arm under him and grab his thick cock, jerking roughly in time with my jarring rhythm. “Come for me first, Millie. Need you to come.”