Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Not for the first time, a pang of longing for my loft hits me. I breathe through it. “I’ve been looking at a few places, but I haven’t found the right space yet.” Most of them are out of my price range. Finn doesn’t want me to pay rent, but I can’t agree to that. The argument is ongoing and stubborn on both sides.
“You’ll find something,” James says.
“I miss my place.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but the words are out anyway. “At least the workspace setup.”
James is silent. “Have you told Finn? Maybe talk about finding someplace new?”
Shrugging, I wiggle my toes. “We just officially got together. Asking him to move would be too much.” I’ve already heaped more than enough baggage on his head.
James laughs. “Yes, but he asked you to move in with him. If you’re not happy there, it will show.”
Happy. My mind drifts, pulling up the image of Finn in bed this morning, stretched out on his back, all long lines, honed planes, and amber skin. He’d been warm and loose-limbed with sleep, the scent of sex and pheromones a seductive fragrance I couldn’t ignore.
Finn was made to be worshipped. And he is mine. I’d slowly woken him with lingering kisses over that glorious body, nuzzling his warm neck as he gave a sleepy grunt, hooking his arm over my shoulders to draw me close. I hadn’t been deterred. I’d made my way down, past tight little nipples that begged to be nibbled on, around the cute divot of his navel, to his cock that rested on the hard swell of his thigh.
And then I’d done exactly what I’d promised him: took him in my mouth, sucked him as he grew thick and hard, his body arching with a moan. “Oh, fuck, Chess. Don’t stop.”
As if I could. The feel of him in my mouth, heavy and fat on my tongue, stretching my lips wide. The way his brow furrowed, his mouth slack in a pant, eyes watching me with hot and helpless intensity. All of it worked like a drug to my system, filling me with wicked heat and covetous greed.
I’d worshipped at the altar of Finn Mannus’s glorious cock, making it slick and swollen, caressing the tight ripple of his belly to keep him still. And I had moved my mouth-wet fingers down past his balls to stroke him where he’d once stroked me.
Tongue toying with the tip of his dick, I’d given his words back to him. “You gonna let me have you here?”
As if I’d touched him with a live wire, he’d lit up, his big body shuddering, his breath coming out in great heaves. He’d looked at me, his expression twisted with lust and pleasure, the small shock in his eyes mixing with dark interest. I’d pushed against his tight flesh, wanting to torment, and he’d pushed back, letting me.
“Yes,” he’d rasped. “Fuck, yes.”
I’d never experienced that level of trust before, that willingness to try anything, knowing that the giving and receiving of pleasure would be tenfold because you were with the person you wanted above all things.
“Chess? Hello . . .”
I come back to myself with a shiver, almost surprised to be sitting alone in the closet with a phone in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I try to recall what I’d been talking about. Happiness.
Will I be happy living here with Finn?
“Sorry. Dropped the phone.” I lick my lips and find them tender. “I’m happy. It’s just an adjustment period, fully moving in.” I glance at the dress I’m wearing tonight. It’s a black-and-white halter top sheath, not my favorite Grace Kelly knockoff. That beauty went up in a blaze of glory. It hurts to think about it. But Finn has already seen me in it. New is better. “Getting back to work with a big project would help.”
“Speaking of that,” James says. “I’ve been hesitant to ask, but . . .”
“But? When are you ever hesitant? Spit it out.”
He huffs. “Remember Michael Harrison?”
“Of course.” Michael is a photographer, too. We went to school together. “How is he?”
“Busy. He’s going to Milan next week, but he asked about you.”
“Me? Why?”
“I had lunch with him. We caught up, I told him about you and the fire, and one thing led to another.”
“You’re rambling, James.”
James makes a tsking sound. “He wanted to know if you’d take over a project for him.”
“Go on.” I get up to pace.
“It’s huge, Chess. You know that old ‘Got Milk?’ campaign?”
“Sure.”
“Think something in that style, but to raise awareness for prostate cancer. They’re pulling together Hollywood’s hottest male stars for a photoshoot.”
Abruptly, I sit down again. “Why the hell is Michael giving that up? And how does he know they’ll even want me?”
“Because when a fashion photographer gets personally invited to Milan by Armani, he doesn’t say no. The ad company agreed with his suggestion to use you as a replacement, because they’ve seen the shots of Dex and Rolondo. They want something similar.” His voice becomes almost giddy. “It’s good money, Chess.”