Page 64 of Manhattan Tormentor

C H A P T E R 17

Finn

I can’t believe the sexathon…so mind-blowing… I had last night was with a guy.

The best sex of my life was with a guy.

I’ve been saying the same thing for a month every time I hook up with Fierro. And each time I swear it’s the last.

His fiery breath touches the back of my neck. The curl of lust deep in my gut should be next to impossible, seeing as how much I’ve come already in the last few hours. Sage is fucking potent.

His lust surges over me like a wave. Bigger than expected and feels solid on top of me. He smells so good that I fill my lungs to capacity with him.

It’s absurd how his exhale can rev me up again. Before I can act on it by doing something stupid, I roll off my bed and hook up the discarded track pants from the floor, yanking them up my legs. And only then do I face the hot little shit sprawled on his stomach once I’ve put some distance between us.

He’s watching me.

He’salwayswatching me.

It floods my body with horny heat, and I turn away from those eyes.

I never thought he’d see me again after being a coward at the café, but here we are.Addicted.

“It’s time for you to go.” I tell him.

His snort does nothing to help me dampen my desire. Sarcastic snorts, eye rolling, he even scoffs at most everything I say to him and nothing makes me want him less. I don’t know if I’m over sexed or he’sthatappealing, so even his annoying habits aren’t that annoying to me.

I watch him move to sit on the side of the bed. He’s got a semi which seems impossible from the amount we’ve used his dick.

Every night he either calls me or I break the pact to myself never to see him again and I summon him over. It’s become a disease I can’t shake.

With the shit with my dad escalating, I need this distraction.

Drinking directly from a discarded carton of orange juice I left out earlier, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while I watch him step into his white boxer briefs. Hiding that perfect ass.

What the fuck am I saying?

It means I need him gone.

But he doesn’t add more clothes. He stalks over to me and I brace for the smell of apples and sex.

It stirs me, and I grind the back of my teeth to stop from reaching out to him.

Sage has no such restraint because his hands come to my waist, his face in mine. “This was fun.” He tells me.

“It was alright,” nothing puts him off when he smirks, coming closer. “Don’t start, Fierro.” I warn, putting a hand on his chest to stop whatever crazy shit I see in the blueness, “fun is over.”

“Is it?”

I would swear on a pile of whores a month ago that Fierro didn’t have any seductive game in his nerd body, his gaze unwavering, burning eyes and smoke voice licking over the surface of my skin. I can’t deny there’s something irresistible about him. Something I want to drown in.

I stare back. His lips are almost touching mine. “If you let me do the fucking for once…”

“Not happening.” My voice is hard, and his laugh is taunting.

It’s then he moves in and kisses me, his hand sliding down into the waist of my pants, and he finds my cock half hard. One tight squeeze of his fingers and I’m at full mast, moaning into his mouth.

Fine, a minute of this, then I’ll kick him out.

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