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To my surprise, Mike merely shrugs and his hand drops away from my waist. “Alright.”
He steps away, making a beeline for Ana as she returns with the drinks, and she’s definitely more receptive to his attention than I am. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, calming the sudden influx of nerves inside me. I didn’t even know he thought of me that way, considering we barely know each other, but then again, I am quite the catch.
Holding onto that thought, I throw myself back into dancing with Meghan and draining my latest cocktail while Ana entertains Mike. Watching them dance together with Meghan laughing in my ear draws my thoughts back to Finn and Caspian.
If only they were here. Either of them.
Or both.
By the time I get home, exhaustion bleeds heavily into every limb. The Uber drops me off at my place and waits, with Meghan and Ana in the back, until I’m at my door before driving off. The silence in my apartment is almost smothering after the loud music from the club. The cool air is a welcome touch, though, and I strip off my clothes the moment I trudge into my bedroom.
“Ow.” My heels come off with a flicker of hot pain at the back of my ankles, and with a sympathetic rub and a distant thought of showering in the morning, I collapse into bed.
Sleep doesn’t come, though. My drunken thoughts are filled with Finn and Caspian.
Finn, with his lopsided tie, loosely buttoned shirt, and thick, brown hair. Caspian with his golden skin, sexy silver hair, and those gorgeous tattoos. My mind runs away with itself as I picture wrapping Finn’s tie around my fist in one hand while my other maps out every intricate detail of Caspian’s tattoo.
I should be so lucky. Tossing and turning, sleep continues to escape me as the fantasy builds in my mind.
I can’t go to sleep like this.
Giving in to the desire and the building ache between my legs, my uncoordinated hand fumbles around the inside of my bedside drawer until my fingers lock around the trusty vibrator I keep there.
Honestly, who needs a man when things like this exist?
The soft hum of the vibrations fills the air at the push of a button. Rolling onto my stomach, I shove my face into my pillow and guide the toy between my legs. The second I touch my clit with the toy, my hips jolt forward and I moan deeply into my pillow.
Immediately, my fantasy takes over.
Finn is between my legs, holding this toy against me as I tell him it’s too much. He makes me beg for more, tells me to take it like a good girl, and I do because I want to please him. Caspian beside me, stroking his large hands down my back like I’m the clay I watched him work over in the studio. The press of his cock against my hip, thick and long, as he whispers in my ear that he wants to fuck me all night long. Until I scream myself hoarse and can’t walk in the morning.
My hips move with a will of their own, following .my drunken fantasy of riding Finn’s cock. I slide my toy back and forth across my pussy but end up mainly focusing on my clit the closer I get to orgasm.
I want them. Either of them. Both of them. I want to smell them, taste them, feel them wrapped around my body as they hold me.
I come with a cry muffled in my pillow, wave after wave of scorching pleasure rolling through my body. My hips stutter and an ache builds in my wrist from how I angled the toy to the left to make sure I got every last delicious drop of pleasure.
Then, with a satisfied sigh, the toy returns to my drawer and I wrap both arms sleepily around my pillow.
Fuck.
Finn might not be interested in me, but in my fantasies he loves me.
Although, if reality can’t match up with that, maybe it’s time I followed through with Caspian’s flirting.
4
FINN
“Now, I want you to really think about what the writer is trying to tell you here. This isn’t the curtains are red so the character is angry. This goes much deeper. The language used to really paint a picture of how our character feels in this house is what’s important here.”
Holding the book aloft, leather balanced against my fingertips, I pace back and forth across the stage.
“So, can anyone pick out an example for me?”
A sea of faces stares back at me, most of them void of any enthusiastic thought or comprehension—the pain of a Monday morning lecture after a wild weekend of students going crazy. A few hands dot up around the lecture hall as I remove my glasses, so I use the glasses leg to indicate to the person closest.
“Aria.”
