“You’re so wet, Finnley. Do you like watching our fingers fuck you?” he asks, staring at my face in the mirror.

“I like anything you do to me,” I reply with a shaky breath as he picks up the speed of our fingers until the only sound in the room is the wet, sucking noise our fingers make as they sink inside me over and over.

He bends his knees behind me and I see the tip of his cock between my legs as I stare into the mirror, our fingers continuing to move in a blindingly fast pace.

In one perfectly executed move, he pulls our fingers out of my body and immediately replaces them with his cock, sliding deep inside of me with one slow push.

His hand stops its ministrations on my nipple and instead, bands tightly around my ribs right below my breasts to hold me up. Thank God for that because I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to stand on my own. As he works himself in and out of me, using two fingers to rub my clit, I reach behind me to grasp his hips, curling my nails into his flesh as he slowly fucks me. He takes his time with me, each plunge deep and precise and so completely unlike our earlier encounter. Being taken up against the wall in a rush of slapping bodies and bruised skin was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, but this slow burn with its sensual intensity is just as good.

The fingers circling my clit move maddeningly fast while his cock plunges into me deep and slow, the opposing sensations melting together until I’m nothing but a burning pile of need. It’s a struggle simply to stand here and try to help him keep my body upright when my thighs start to shake as my body hovers at the brink of orgasm. My hands clench his hips tighter and I lock down my muscles, afraid to move for fear of losing my hold on the feelings coursing through my body—

The need to scream.

The need to come.

The need to keep him here so he can do this to me every single day.


That thought should scare the hell out of me, but it doesn’t. This time is impossibly better than the first and I can only imagine that it will continue to get better every single time.


My release comes swiftly and without warning, my pussy clamping down on his cock as I continue to watch what he’s doing to me in the mirror, my mouth open on a silent scream of pleasure. I gasp and pant through my orgasm until my throat is so dry it feels like it will crack. As I come down from my high, Collin turns us away from the mirror, grabs my hands from his hips and places them on top of the dresser in front of me.

“Hold on, baby,” he warns.

I have just enough time to brace myself against the smooth surface of my dresser before he pulls his cock completely out of me and immediately slams it back in to the hilt. I cry out in pleasure as he resumes the same pounding rhythm as earlier, his hips slapping into my ass as he grips my hips tightly and uses my body to find his release.

I lift myself up on my toes and arch my back, giving him easier access and allowing him to drive himself inside me, as deep as he can go, again and again. I feel the heat of him behind me and the length of him inside me and I’ve never felt more completely overwhelmed. I love the sound of him losing control, growls and curses that are rough and foul and so fucking sexy that I feel my pussy tighten down on his cock in an involuntary spasm. I love that I can already tell when he’s getting ready to come just by the way his movements become jerky, like he can’t control what he’s doing and his only thought is of coming inside me.

“Fuck, Lee. FUCK!” he shouts, slamming deep one last time before he lets go, his hips grinding against my ass as he comes.

We both collapse on top of the dresser, my breasts flattening against the cool wood and his warm chest pressing against my back. He shifts his hips, slipping out of me and I feel his come drip down the inside of my thighs.

Collin wraps both of his arms around my waist and peppers my back with kisses while I try and catch my breath, wondering if I’ll ever get enough of this man.

“Jesus, I can’t get enough of you,” he mutters against me, voicing my own thoughts. “I’m already thinking about fucking you again.”

I smile to myself as he runs his hands over the skin of my upper back.

“Fuck, the things I want to do to your body should be illegal.”

Lifting my head, I look over my shoulder at him. “I’m perfectly fine with that. As soon as I recover, you can do anything you want to my body.”

His eyes darken and I know he’s contemplating all the things he wants to do to me. I’m fairly certain that most, if not all of them, will be new experiences for me and I shiver in anticipation.

The distant sound of the front door opening and slamming shut brings me out of my orgasm-induced euphoria and I jerk up from the dresser, pushing Collin away from me in the process. He gives me a strange look, clearly confused for a moment, and I realize he must not have heard what I did.

There’s only one person who has a key to this house, one person who would be walking through that front door right now.

I shouldn’t have ignored his calls. I should have acted like an adult and talked to him. I knew that going radio silent would piss him off and eventually he’d ignore everything I said to him the day he left about how I couldn’t stand to look at him and I never wanted to see him again.

The separation papers obviously weren’t enough for him. Seeing me freshly fucked from another man and that man still in our home, a man who he’s always hated for the simple fact that I dated him first, is going to be one big wake-up call for him. Part of me wants to grab Collin’s hand and drag him out into the living room without a care about our nakedness and shove it right down Jordan’s throat. The other part of me, the more logical, less bitchy side, wants to hide Collin in the closet and keep what we just did a secret. Not because I’m ashamed, or I feel guilty, but because bringing this out in the open will make it real. Making it real means it can be taken away at any moment and I’m not ready to let this go just yet. I don’t know if this is rebound sex, a way to get back at Jordan sex or something more than sex. It’s too new and too fresh and I haven’t had time to process it yet. I’m still in a little bubble of bliss and I’m not ready for that bubble to be popped.

“Finnley? Babe! I’m home!”

I cringe when I hear Jordan’s shout. Judging by the angry look on Collin’s face, my bubble of bliss just exploded and Jordan was holding the sharp pin of destruction.

Chapter 10—Powderkeg

I CANNOT BELIEVE this is fucking happening right now.

“Please, just stay in here,” Finnley begs for the third time as I watch her quickly throw on a short, black robe she grabs from the end of the bed.

I cross my arms in front of me, silently fuming, as she rushes towards the door. She looks back over her shoulder at me, her brown eyes filled with worry and sadness.

“Please,” she whispers brokenly one last time before turning away and rushing down the hall, the door pulling closed behind her.

I hear her footsteps as she races down the stairs followed by the sounds of murmured voices before I finally let the anger that’s been simmering just under the surface since I head him speak her fucking name boil over. Picking up a pillow from the end of the bed, I bunch it in my hands and then chuck it as hard as I can at the mirror hanging behind the door, equal parts pissed off and grateful that it wasn’t something harder. Gripping my hands in my hair so tight my eyes start to water, I pace around the room while the voices down below get increasingly louder.

I should have made her tell me what the hell was going on with Jordan before I started any of this shit with her. Fuck, separated could mean anything from him staying in a hotel for a week while they worked out their problems to her getting ready to leave his ass for good. I was a complete and total dumbass for immediately assuming the latter. My thoughts had been centered on Finnley, on getting inside her sweet body with the hope of sating my curiosity and removing all traces of her from my heart and mind once and for all. I’d planned on leaving here today with all traces of my infatuation with Finnley wiped from my mind and without another look back. I didn’t expect for one taste of her to turn into an addiction, never imagined that fucking her would only solidify my obsession. This woman, who’s spent years dominating my headspace, is suddenly under my skin and in my blood and now I can’t imagine not fucking her every day for the rest of my life. I’ll be damned if that fuck head Jordan Castillo is going to ruin my chances with her once again.

Snatching up my jeans and t-shirt from the foot of the bed where I’d tossed them before our second round of mind-blowing sex, I quickly get dressed and walk over to the door. I quietly pull it open just a crack and crane my neck to listen, not giving a shit that I’m eavesdropping right now.

“I’m sorry, Jordan. I’m so sorry.”

The broken apology from Finnley makes my blood boil and I grip the handle of the door so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break off in my hand.

Is she taking him back? Is she forgiving him for whatever the fuck he did and taking him back when I’m standing right here after she just spent the past hour and a half letting me fuck her?

My smell is still on her skin and my come is still pooling inside her body and she’s taking that fucker back. This woman has completely fucked me in more ways than one. The day I let her go, the memory of her and what we had together took root and it grew and grew until she became a fantasy in my mind. I placed this perfect, amazing woman so high on a pedestal in my mind that no other woman could even come close to reaching the ideal of her, but I’m quickly realizing that dreams are much better than reality. I built her up so high in my mind that there was nowhere else for her to go but crashing down.


The bedroom door slams against the wall and I’m racing barefoot down the stairs before I even realize what I’m doing. I completely disregard the bullshit promise I made to Finnley to stay hidden in the bedroom when I hear the fury in Jordan’s voice. I’ll be damned if I’ll sit here and hide like a little bitch while he screams at her.

I’m filled with blind rage when I walk into the living room and see Jordan’s hands wrapped tightly around Finnley’s arms as he shakes her like a ragdoll, spit flying from his mouth as he screams at her.

I fly across the room, clutching the front of his shirt in my fists and dragging him away from Finnley, stopping when his back slams against the wall beside the door—the same wall I just fucked his wife up against. I ignore Finnley’s shouts from behind me as I press him as hard as I can into the wall and get right in his face.

“Don’t you ever touch her or speak to her like that again,” I growl.

“Collin, please!” Finnley begs, her hands grabbing onto my shoulders as she tries to pull me off of Jordan.

“You fucking WHORE!” Jordan screams as he looks over my shoulder at his wife.

I press my forearm into his neck, watching his eyes bulge out of their sockets and his face turn red as I cut off his air supply. “Call her a whore again. Go ahead. Say something else, please. Give me a fucking reason to beat the shit out of you.”

Jordan claws at my arm while Finnley tugs on my shoulders and I let my anger slow to a simmer while I shoot daggers at the worthless piece of shit in front of me.

“Collin, he can’t breathe!”

Finnley’s strangled cry forces its way into my conscience and I finally ease up, pushing my forearm into this throat one last time before backing away. Jordan’s hands immediately wrap around his neck as he bends over, coughing and sputtering pathetically like a Goddamn pussy.

When he can finally breathe normally again, he stands up to his full height, puffs out his chest and glares at me, his nostrils flaring like an angry bull. I can tell he’s thinking about charging, that he’d like nothing better than to punch me in the face. I can see it in the way his chest heaves and his hands clench and unclench into fists at his sides. Aside from the tattoos covering both of his arms from wrists to shoulders and the strung-out look in his eyes, he looks like the same punk from high school. He’s taller and has a few more muscles, but I can still wipe the floor with his ass. I silently dare him to punch me. Outside of taking his wife back up to their bedroom and fucking her brains out, I can’t think of anything I’d love more than to put him on his ass. I’ve always hated him, knowing he poached what should have been mine. I’ve spent many years wishing I could be alone in a room with him just once so I could show him who the better man is.

“I can’t believe you would do this to me,” he finally says, staring right at me, but I know his words are for Finnley.

He finally looks away from me to Finnley. I can feel the heat of her body right behind me. I can smell her skin and I can hear her breath stutter with every word he speaks, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. I refuse to see the look of anguish and regret on her face that I’m sure he’s putting there.

“Seventeen years, Finn. Seventeen years and you’re going to throw it all away by sleeping with him?” Jordan asks in disgust.

The fact I just came running downstairs from the bedroom and she’s standing here in nothing but a robe makes what happened between us pretty obvious. She doesn’t say a word to confirm or deny it, but even Jordan isn’t that stupid. I want her to choose me, to tell him that even though she married him, it’s always been me. I want her to tell him to leave and pick me. Pick me, dammit!

“Did you fuck him in my bed?”

I take a step in Jordan’s direction and once again, Finnley’s hand comes out and grips onto my shoulder.

“Collin, you need to go. Please, just go.”

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