Page 36 of Bloody Temptations

Well fuck. It’s not often I get choked up or emotional. Especially since being turned–it can kind of numb that part of you a bit. But I can’t help but feel a tight squeeze in my chest at his words. My teeth worry at my lip as I try to find the words to reply.

My first instinct is to send something incredibly embarrassing back, spilling my guts about being more than happy to do anything for him because I’m completely gone over him. Thank the Gods my pride is a powerful beast and it refuses to let me do it.

Trust me when I say, it’s been entirely my pleasure Finn.

I don’t know about that. Between the HVB video’s and your selfies, it’s been a little bit of my pleasure too.

Biting my lip to keep my groan in, I read his message again and flick my eyes to the bathroom door.

Maybe it’s that we haven’t seen each other in days, and I haven’t had my fix of him in too long. Maybe it’s because whenever he gets all shy and admits to watching my videos, it’s hot as shit. Even hotter when he implies he’s been getting off to them too.

It’s like he knows how to hit all of my buttons. Heart thudding, I rush to my room, not wanting Nikki to leave the bathroom and catch the boner currently tenting my basketball shorts.

The blood I drank this evening is not nearly enough to maintain both my erection and my brain, which is my excuse for doing the potentially stupid thing and asking him outright.

Finny, have you been doing wicked things with my photos?

With my free hand I palm myself through the thin material of my shorts. It’s barely enough to take the edge off, but I’m willing to hold out to see where this goes.

Um, no. Definitely not. Because that would be immoral and a breach of our friendship. Totally improper and all that. So no.

Well, I’m totally convinced.

Ignoring that one hurtful word 'friendship'—reminding myself not for the first time that one date and making out in the storeroom at work does not make a relationship, no matter how much I want to slap all the labels on it—I focus on the rest of what he had to say.

My dick throbs and I snake my hand under the waistband of my shorts, giving myself a quick, unsatisfying stroke. Keeping my fingers there, my grip loosens while I reply.

I thought I told you I like to be watched? That I like *you* watching.

Slowly I keep stroking myself. This is probably a terrible idea, the very worst idea I’ve ever had, but I can’t seem to stop myself. My hand is a little dry, so I quickly spit on it and continue teasing myself, twisting my fingers around the sensitive head. Sparks of anticipation ricochet down my thighs.

Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that you want to know I get my rocks off to your horny dancing with your best friend.

God, he’s so fucking cute. It would have killed him to make that admission too. I know that wherever he is he’sblushing. If he’s had enough blood this evening, he would probably be flushing all the way down his neck too. I can see it in my mind’s eye and it’s hotter than it should be. I tighten my fist around myself and thrust sharply up into my hand.

My body is on fucking fire. It’s been too damn long since I got off with someone else. Too long pining after a shy, yet temperamental, former cat shifter with too pretty eyes and a smile that makes my stomach quiver. Too long being worked up with the taste of his lips and nothing more.

Really? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve told you twice now it’s hot as fuck Finn.

Yeah, but it’s not like you meant it likethat.

He still doesn’t get it. Maybe it’s time to give this relationship a little shove in the right direction?

Throwing caution to the wind, I force my eyes back open and quickly thumb my way back to my camera. The picture I snap might be entirely covered, but that doesn’t make it less obscene. The hint of my bare abs, my shorts riding low on my deep V cuts, the waistband pulled tight over my forearm. Even though the black material covers all of the really good bits, it’s still really fucking obvious what I’m doing.

I really, really did. See?

Fucking Nikki putting those thoughts in my head, because how can Finn not see how fucking hot I am for him, all the fucking time?

I follow the message with the photo.

Obviously, I have a problem. Or maybe I am a problem, who the fuck knows. But knowing that he is probably looking at the picture only makes me harder.

In a rush I shove down my shorts, kicking them haphazardly off, and lunge for the drawer next to my bed for the lube, almost sliding off the covers in the process. I manage to get the bottle uncapped and my hand slicked up and back around my cock without injuring myself—or putting down my phone.

The message is sitting on read, but there are no little dots to say that he’s typing. The wait would be killing me, except I’m very happily distracted thrusting into my tight, slick fist. My eyes flutter shut, despite my best efforts to not miss Finn’s message.

I can’t help it, though. A highlight reel ofhimplays through my head while I jerk myself. It’s a montage of blonde hair, timid ferocity and the way he feels against me. The way his fingers bite into me, the way he’s bossy and dominant yet also so innocent.

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