It’s four more days before Finn and I see each other again. Mostly that’s my fault. I have back-to-back therapy sessions plus farm work. It’s enough to exhaust me—and it does—but I still find myself crawling into bed and wanting him.
I played with myself until I came last night and it still isn’t enough to take the edge off. As I walk toward the Fox Theater, my n*****s ache against the lace of my bralette. They’re incredibly tender and yet I’m desperate for Finn’s mouth to use them hard.
And when I round the corner and spot him ahead of me, waiting, that ache deepens.
He’s in work clothes again—a dark gray suit with the jacket hanging open. One hand is fisted in his pocket and the other holds his phone. Whatever he sees on the screen seems to annoy him and when he looks up, meeting my e
