Page 30 of Wreck Me

“Is that a fucking brand?”

I instantly still, forgetting that the damn thing was there since the pain went away.

“Fuck, it’s still red around the edges. What the fuck did you do?” he hisses, hands lifting off my back, fingers trailing over the scar at the very top of my ass cheek.

“Don’t worry about it,” I snap at him, trying to jerk away.

“Tell. Me.”

“My brothers did it while we were drunk on our annual boys’ trip in February. It was a joke. Ended up doing something stupid while drunk; it’s not a big deal.”

“The fuck it isn’t, Carter, this is permanent!”

“No shit. But you aren’t my keeper, so get off of me.”

His fingers continue to run over my skin in a soothing, almost affectionate way. My heart does that weird damn thing in my chest. It’s a slow burn at first, just my heart skipping a beat, steadily beating faster and faster as his hand flattens over my skin. Then my breathing starts to come harder, my heart fluttering. The hand around the back of my neck is a firm pressure, holding me still, reminding me that he’s in control right now, and for some reason that I can’t understand, I allow it, knowing that at any point he would let me up if I really wanted him to.

My body hums with equal parts excitement and nervousness, the warmth of his touch as he slowly palms my ass, the desperate little moan that escapes his lips as his fingers dig into the meat of my flesh. My thoughts empty, but everything else in me is alive, rapidly losing control of my feelings and my body.

Then, his mouth is there, a small peck over my fresh scar.Once. Twice. And then his warm, wet tongue that my dick is more than acquainted with licks over the spot. My cock is throbbing, pinned between my body and the bed, already leaking precum. The urge to roll over and have his mouth on me is so damn strong, but I fight it, letting him have this moment. I let myself enjoy his hot mouth, dropping open-mouthed kisses on my skin. He stays in the area directly over my scar, and then he’s gone, and I nearly whine.

I hear the whoosh of air only a split second before the hard sting of his hand against my ass. I jerk hard in response, but he holds me down by the neck.

“Did you just fucking spank me?”

“Don’t. Fucking. Mark. Up. Your. Skin!” He punctuates every word, pushing my head into the pillow as he says them. And then he’s letting me go, taking a few measured steps backward. I lay there for a moment stunned by the turn of events, even more stunned by the wave of emotions spreading through my body like a goddamn inferno.

“You’ve got ten minutes, Hayes. Get dressed, pack. Ten. Minutes.”

I listen for Finn’s steps to leave my bedroom, fading away the farther he gets before I roll over and do exactly what he said. With my heart in my goddamn throat, my head swimming with confusion, and my cock as hard as steel, I take the quickest shower of my life, pull myself together, and pack a weekend bag without having a shit idea of where we’re even going.

I find Finn sitting on my couch, his forearms resting on his thighs, bent over and focusing hard on his phone. He’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a black henley that strains over the muscles of his biceps. His glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose, and I want so badly to push them back for him. I’m fucked. I’m failing at keeping myself in check, and the weekend hasn’t even started yet.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he says, his face lighting up in a smile like I’m the best damn thing he’s ever seen. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as one can be when they’re being kidnapped.” All I get is a dirty little smirk in return, and somehow that’s better than any reply he could have said.

After a tense three-hour drive to Seattle from Aspen Ridge, we drive right onto the airstrip to a waiting plane, and I realize why his ass picked me up at three in the morning.

“Of course you have a private jet. Because why wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not mine. It’s . . . my dad’s. It’s just frowned upon if I fly commercial. Apparently it makeshimlook bad, even if I’d prefer not to travel this way.”

I don’t know why the sudden transparency, but I’ve got a feeling there’s quite a story there based on his tone, and as much as I want to push, I don’t think he’ll give me any more, so I let it slide.

“C’mon, we’re already late because you decided to sleep in.”

“Maybe if you had told me what time to be ready, I would have been.”

“Get your ass on the plane, Carter.”

“You’re not making this fuckin’ easy. You know that, right?”

“Don’t give a shit. Just as long as you get on the plane.”

“Not until you tell me where we’re going.”

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