Finn
Finn hit the Cancel button on his phone when it went straight to Oliver’s voicemail for the sixth time in a row. Continuing to call wasn’t helping anyone, least of all Cora. He felt the smooth shudder beneath his body as she hit a hundred and twenty. They’d been driving for at least an hour, and the sun was hanging high in the sky. Even with the windows open and the AC going full blast, he was slick with sweat.
She, however, looked like some kind of modern warrior goddess. The wind from the open windows tore her hair free of the ponytail she had tossed it into, turning the locks into living flames around her flushed face. Her hands, dainty and delicate, gripped the stick shift with confidence. There was a twitch of muscle in her arm as she shifted gears again, slowing as she took a turn on a road he could barely see.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No.” She kept her eyes forward. Her cupid’s bow mouth had formed into a grim line. It suited the dark jeans and darker shirt that were plastered to that curvaceous body.
“He’ll show up, Cora.”
“Yeah,” she said. She didn’t sound convinced. She sounded angry, and he couldn’t blame her. His warrior woman was the kind who liked complete control over a situation, and right now she didn’t have it. “He wants to go to some concert tomorrow, and I told him no.”
He resisted the urge to smirk. “You think he’s pissed at you, so he took off?”
“I wouldn’t know, would I?” she demanded. “I mean, here I am, back after too many years away and demanding him to live up to standards my parents haven’t imposed.”
“Imposing rules on a teenager doesn’t always help things. Oliver’s a good kid.”
“Good kids don’t go joyriding and skipping school and…who knows what else!” She didn’t take her eyes off the road, but he could see her neck go taught, forming a straight line of porcelain white. If she’d been a softer woman, a more delicate one, she might have looked like a doll. He didn’t think she’d appreciate the sentiment, especially not right now.
“Can’t imagine where he gets the need for speed from.”
She downshifted and took a turn hard enough to slam him against the window. He reached up to grab the little handle above the door as the car came to a screeching halt. Dust swam around the car in a cloud of red-brown. When he looked at her she was breathing hard.
“Are you blaming me?”
“No.”
She slapped the release button for the seat belt, and it skimmed across her chest. It caught for just a moment against the curve of one breast. The moment she was free, she slithered over the center console and into his lap. Her hands planted against his chest, holding him against the sun-warmed leather as she stared down at him with stormy eyes.
“It isn’t my fault,” she snarled.
He gave a short nod. “I’m not arguing.”
Something warred inside her eyes, something hot and wild. Her pretty nails dug into his chest, pricking against the fabric, clenching and unclenching like a cat making bread. Her body settled more firmly in his lap, pushing against him. He felt the firm press of her pussy through her jeans. His shaft hardened in response to the weight of her buttocks against his lap. God, she was soft. How was a hard-as-nails woman like Cora so goddamned soft?
“I need…” she growled, dipping her head to run her teeth over the curve of his ear.
“Go ahead,” he answered, settling himself against the seat. “Take.”
Her mouth plastered against his. It was like a fire had been trapped in her lips and she wanted to brand him with it. He drank down the heat and lifted his hips up to her, grinding himself against the jeans she had poured herself into. She thrust herself back hard enough to drive him against the seat.
“Let me,” she panted against his lips, pushing at his chest until he stopped moving. “Just…let me.”
“All right.” Finn had no problem with a woman who wanted to be in charge. Sure, he knew some of the guys might give him all kinds of flak for it. But right now, with this gorgeous woman straddling his hips and kissing her way down his neck? He couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. There was nothing quite like a woman making demands on his body. Why wonder if he was pleasing his woman when she’d just tell him?
Was she his? He wondered as she slunk toward the small space between his legs. The curves of her body fit between his knees. Her mouth danced down his chest and then kissed the button of his own pants as if promising him other things. A thrill spiked through him.
“Oh God,” he breathed.
Her chuckle was lascivious and dark: dark like midnight, dark like wine. She reached beside him and hit a lever, sending him several inches back. His body bounced and he found himself wondering if he ought to stop. Sure, it was hot to have her slinking over him like a cat in heat, but what if she started having second thoughts again? It’s not like she wasn’t having morning-after issues earlier.
“Cora…”
“Shut up.”
Her hands slid over the inside seam of his jeans, pausing only when she found his length. His thoughts came to a screeching halt as she squeezed him. The stroking of her palm was muted through the fabric, but it was enough to take his already building erection and turn it to a rock. She stroked, again and again until he was aching. Just when he thought he might resort to begging, she surged up until her breasts, still clad in her slim top, were pressed between his thighs, pushing against his erection.
“Take off your shirt,” she said, her voice a low purr. “And unzip your pants.”
His lips formed a smile. “So bossy.”
She turned her head until her lips pressed against the bulge in his jeans that marked the tip of his shaft. The wet heat from her mouth slid over him, and he went lax. “Just do what I tell you, biker boy.”
“Or what?” he teased.
“Or I’ll stop.” The response was flat, matter-of-fact and tinged with promise.
He certainly didn’t want that. Still, he didn’t have to just give in either. He plucked at the fabric of his T-shirt, tugging it up just enough to show the lowest part of his stomach. He watched her storm-gray eyes go dark, and her tongue danced over her lips. “You want me to take this off?”
“Didn’t I just say so?”
He tugged it up another few inches. He liked the way she looked at him. Her lips were parted as if she was just waiting to use them all over his body. Finn was more than willing to let her. There was something glorious about a woman who wanted. Her hands dove over his chest, greedily pushing up the cloth he hadn’t moved yet. She tugged hard until the shirt ended up somewhere else.
Her mouth slid over his skin like she was starving and he was the buffet. He wondered if there had ever been another who drove him this wild. He kissed her back with fervor, tasting her as much as she tasted him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and he held on to her hips, tugging her closer to his body.
“Didn’t I tell you to unzip your damn pants?” she growled.
He nipped at her lips once more before reaching between their bodies and tugging his jeans apart. It felt good not to be trapped inside his own clothes, but it still ached. She’d barely touched him and all he wanted to do was slam himself inside of her until they were both lost.
“Is that what you need?” he asked, pushing his hips up, driving himself against her.
“I’ll show you what I need.”
Her hand slithered down his chest and into the brim of his boxers before her fist wrapped around him like a vice made of velvet. He jerked and all that managed to do was drive him into the tunnel her fingers made.
“Oh God,” he groaned.
“Do it again,” she hissed against his ear.
“What?”
“Move your hips like you want me, like you need me.”
He did want her. He did need her. This bossy woman drove him mad in a way no other woman had even come close to. He reached behind himself, gripping the headrest with one hand and the side of the driver’s-side bucket seat with the other. He levered himself up, again and again, driving himself against her hand. It felt so good to have her touching him.
“Is this all you want?” he asked. “Some dirty touching in the front seat of your car?”
“Well,” she said with an impish smile that drove a groan from his throat, “I don’t have a backseat.”
The words should have been innocent, but they purred from her lips, still wet from exploring him. They were ripe with meaning, heavy with lust. Her hand tightened on him, and for just a second he thought he was going to lose control.
“Jesus, Cora.”
“There we go,” she whispered. “That’s what I want. I want you…big, bad, biker boy…to be writhing for me. I want you to groan for me. I want you to moan for me. I want…God, Finn, I want you to beg.”
“Deal.”
He wrapped his arms around her and heaved her closer to his body. She slid her legs over his hips, cupping herself against him. She ground her body against him in unabashed hedonistic desire and dragged his hands to her breasts.
“Touch me.”
He did. He felt the weight of her breasts against his palms, filling them. Her nipples were so hard the tips had gone rough with texture. He swirled the pads of his thumbs over them, flicking over and over again until she moaned.
“More,” she growled. “Don’t hold back.”
He took the nipples between his fingers and pinched, steadily increasing pressure until she was gasping. Her eyes fluttered and she pushed herself hard against his hands. Her body moved like a wave against him. One pale hand snaked over her own body, undoing her zipper.
“Touch,” she commanded, her voice husky.
He was only too happy to comply. When he dipped his hands beneath her cotton panties, she was wet. She dripped against his palm, and he slipped one finger inside the damp heat of her body. She made a heady sound, and he slid another finger into her again. When she started to move her hips in a quick pulse, he pushed in tandem.
“You’re being gentle.” She said it like it was a bad thing.
“I am touching some pretty delicate parts.”
She scoffed and pulled herself away from his hand. His fingers glistened with her pleasure. She pushed her jeans down toward the floor until only one scrap of fabric stayed hooked around one ankle. Seeing her bare from the hips down in the bright light of the afternoon made him ache. The soft triangle of curls at the top of her femininity led his eyes to the soft pink slit between her thighs.
“God, you are pretty.”
She gave him a smirk that skirted the line of evil. “Is that the best you can do?”
“Well, I’d prefer to use my mouth for things other than compliments.”
Her head fell back, and she groaned out, “Get to it.”
It took a little maneuvering, but she ended up with her round backside pinned to the dash with one foot perched on the door and another around his back. His hands cupped the swell of her hips, and he moved to kiss his way up her thigh. She stopped him with a single finger to his brow.
“No, don’t be sweet, don’t be cute. I need you to drown me with pleasure.”
He thought about arguing with her. She deserved to be pleasured, to be seduced. The hard light in her eye told him that she was being serious. Cora wanted him to dive in, proverbially speaking. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Her tongue swept across her lips. “You can say that again if you want to.”
He laughed, and then he ravished her with his mouth. He put lips and tongue and teeth to work, tasting the crux of her womanhood. His lips fastened over her clit, and he worked it relentlessly. He felt her fingers slide around the back of his head, holding him in place, and he rolled his eyes up to watch her face as he redoubled his efforts.
He saw the brightness come into her eyes that told him he was doing everything right. His finger danced its way between her thighs and plunged back into the folds of her soaked pleasure, working in and out until her nails scraped against his scalp.
“That’s it, Finn,” she gasped. “Mmmm, just like that. Don’t stop, not yet, not yet.”
He didn’t ever want to stop, the satin caress of her thighs against his cheeks, the way her hips twitched when he hit just the right spot. Other guys could have their sweet and shy ladies; his Cora was wanton and he loved it.
She was close—he could taste it. He plunged his tongue over her again and again. Then he felt her foot shove him suddenly away. His back met the bucket seat with enough force to surprise him. Her body was swiveling around so her back was facing him. While it was a very nice view, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. What the hell had just happened? He was just about to start asking questions when she plopped her round backside in his lap and told him in no uncertain terms:
“Do it.”
She bent herself forward as much as the tiny space would allow, and he was suddenly very thankful she did all those yoga stretches. He slid forward, gripped her hips, and pushed himself inside of her warm wetness. She mewled hungrily.
He started to move, slowly getting a feeling for the strange angle when she shoved her hips against him.
“You’re being gentle again.”
“Well, if we weren’t in the worst seat ever…”
She pulled herself away from him with another growl and reached beside him. With one quick movement, his seat was reclined all the way back. She pounced onto his lap before he could breathe and pushed him back inside of her womanhood.
“Now,” she said, holding herself still. “Do it.”
He did. He gripped her hips and levered himself into her from beneath, pushing deep over and over again. Her breasts, bare and nearly glowing in the afternoon light, bounced with every thrust.
“More,” she cried out. “Give me more!”
He pulled her closer to his lap, tugging until she was leaning over him. He pumped faster, harder into her body, feeling the wetness drip across his length. She cradled her head against his shoulder, and he felt her breath against his skin.
“Yes, Finn. Oh, God yes, just like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”
The mantra of her commands made his head spin. He held her tight against him and pounded into her with enough speed and force to make her expensive car shake. The tips of her breasts caressed his chest, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. His palm gripped her backside, pulling her tight so his thrusts became short, fierce twitches.
She gave him no warning of her orgasm, but he knew when it came over her. Her body shivered on top of his, the muscles of her thighs gripping him tighter. She pushed herself into him as if guiding him to just the right place. Her mewls grew to a fevered pitch, and then her hips jerked on top of his lap with unrepentant pleasure. His own body moved in response, losing all sense of skill and rhythm, desperate to feel the release she had stoked.
“Yes, ohhh yes,” she gasped out, her lips brushing against his neck. It was the last straw. He pushed himself deep inside of her, feeling the last spasms of her own peak, and spilled.
For a long moment, they just stayed there, his body nested inside of hers, and the sun beat down around them. He felt her shift, and he expected her to pull away, but she laid a single kiss on his lips.
“Thank you.”
He hadn’t known exactly what he expected to say after her reaction last night, but gratitude certainly hadn’t been it. In truth, once the endorphins of sex started to ebb away he had pretty much expected her to get mad all over again. The kiss and the thanks, however, were far more appreciated. He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her closer so he could lay a few of his own kisses on her lips, neck, and the tops of her breasts.
“You are very welcome.”
She laughed and waved him off, but there was affection in the dismissal. He wondered if she realized that. With more skill than he could have managed, she shimmied back into her jeans and leaned back against the car door, stretching across the space between them so her feet were nestled in his lap.
“I can’t get pregnant,” she said.
Finn was far too relaxed to feel the confusion that he ought to. All he could manage was a slight turn of his head until he could watch her tuck her breasts back into her top. It was a good sight.
“I’m sorry…what?”
She glanced over at him and then reached into her purse. He remembered that she carried half of her life in that purse. She pulled out a travel-sized hairbrush and dragged it through her hair, setting it to rights. “I’m on birth control. I can’t get pregnant.”
He realized he hadn’t even been worried about it. That was enough of a shock that he fumbled for the lever she had worked so expertly a few minutes ago. The chair popped upward, bringing him with it. It wasn’t that he wanted to saddle either of them with offspring. He’d seen plenty of young people back on the reservation who’d had children before they were ready and ruined lives over it. This wasn’t that. It was the fact that he hadn’t even had the worry. Finn had been so invested in just being with her that the consequences had not even made an appearance in his mind. “Oh,” was all he could say.
“It’s not personal.” She stretched her toes out. He found himself wondering where her shoes had gone. She’d been wearing them, he was sure of it. Where they were now, he couldn’t say. “I just don’t want to be pregnant again. Not right now, maybe never. I haven’t decided yet.”
It wasn’t what she said. If she didn’t want a kid, he wasn’t going to push. She certainly had enough on her plate, and so did he. It was the way she said it. Her voice was soft and gentle as if she were speaking to a memory rather than to him. He placed his hands over her ankles, rubbing his thumb up and down the lowest part of her leg.
“I got pregnant in high school. I was sixteen years old and absolutely certain I was in love. He was a lot like you. A bad boy with a killer smile and a way with words that had me forgetting which way was north.”
“That can happen when you are young.”
She blew out a breath and plopped the brush back in her purse. “That’s true enough. It happened and I didn’t know what to think about it. I saw this whole line of my life stretched out before me for the next eighteen years, minimum. I knew what my dad would do. He’d try to make it all better even though he was disappointed. My mom would have flipped out and flat out told me I was a disappointment. The guy offered to pay for things. God, I was almost grateful to him for that because I had no clue how I was going to pay for anything.”
He squeezed her toes between his hands. “You were grateful for any help at all.”
She laid her head back through the open window until the sun shimmered down on her brow. “Yeah, I was. I didn’t take it. I got pretty mad about it later. I mean, I couldn’t get rid of the kid. I wasn’t willing to. Not that it’s a bad thing, just…just not for me. Besides, by the time I realized, it was too damn late.”
It wasn’t easy to picture Cora Anderson being young and unsure. It was, however, easy to picture her trying to shoulder it all on her own, even back then.
“What did you do?”
“I went to the church for the first and last time in my life. St. Andrew’s over on Peachtree?” she said, making a vague gesture back toward town. “My parents thought I had run away, but the convent there let me stay so I could have the baby. It was…well, it was a weird experience, is what it was. Are you Christian?” she asked suddenly.
“I grew up on a Native American reservation. There isn’t a lot of love for the religion of Abraham there.”
The smile that tilted her lips did not quite reach her eyes, but it softened her face a little. “Fair enough. I don’t exactly know what I believe, but I appreciate what they did for me then. I went there, I had the baby, and I gave it up. I think they all hoped I’d repent and become a nun.”
“I’m really happy you didn’t, though I’d be lying if I said that I wouldn’t still check you out while you were in all that…” He waved one hand over his chest.
“The nun’s habit? Oh, well, I had one. They had me dressed up like one of them so Father Michael wouldn’t think anything of it. He was a buffoon anyway. There’s a part of me that doesn’t wonder if they kept me there just to spite him.”
“He was that bad?”
“Oh, he was sanctimonious as hell.” She laughed now, an honest, true laugh that made him feel warm. The sun was probably helping with that, but she made it better.
“It was brave of you.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged and lifted her head up so she was looking at him. “I dunno. Sometimes it feels like it was brave, some days it feels more like I was just running away from everything because I was a coward. Maybe I was both. Can you be both?”
“Sure,” he said. “I don’t see why not. I think—” His phone rang, the sound of Johnny Cash wafting up from somewhere in the car. “That’s Oliver.”
She sat up then, suddenly alert. Her storm-colored eyes darted. “Where’s the phone?”
“I think it’s slid between the seat and the console.” He tried to slip his fingers between the space but found they were too large. “Could you?”
She motioned his hand away. “Push the seat back. Use the lever. All the way.”
It was on the fourth ring that she finally pulled it out of the void that existed in the spaces of compact cars. She held it up with triumph and then passed it to him.
“Oliver? Where are you?”
“I’m at Hilltop.”
Hilltop was the wealthy neighborhood in Carson. Million-dollar homes were clustered together in a few cul-de-sacs in protective circles. Finn was only passingly familiar with it. Most of the upper class didn’t need to buy guns.
“What the hell were you doing there?”
“Hanging out with some Milton kids,” Oliver said like it was no big deal. “But I don’t have a ride and I need you to come pick me up.”
Finn frowned, wondering what Oliver was doing with the private-school children of the Carson elite. If he was hanging out with a bunch of people from the upper middle class, how did no one have a car? Something wasn’t quite adding up.
“We’re coming to get you.”
“We?”
“Your sister and me. We’ve been driving around looking for you.”
“What the hell? How did she even find out?”
“The school called. Tell me where you are exactly. We’ll come get you.”
“Whatever.” Oliver sounded like a petulant ten-year-old, but he gave them an address anyway.
“Stay there,” Finn instructed as he jotted the address down onto a napkin that Cora slipped him. He hung up before Oliver could say anything else. He didn’t want to hear any explanations or excuses. He slid the phone into his pocket. Cora was already shoving the key into the ignition.
“He’s at—”
“I heard. I—”
This time it was her phone going off. She glanced at the dashboard where some fancy hookup let her see who was calling where other people saw what station the radio was on. It simply said “Dad.”
“Crap,” she grumped, flopping back in her seat and not answering the phone. She tilted her head ever so slightly in Finn’s direction. “So, do you wanna go to a barbecue?”