Page 63 of Their Dark Rose

He laughed a throaty, sexy laugh and drove me around for the remainder of the day. He blended into Boston’s streets while we talked about life, while he explained to me the daily operations of Nightingale Construction.

Finn asked what secrets I kept from them—since all teenagers do. While driving by Fenway Park where the Red Sox play, around the harbor, I told him about the books I read. He approved, because how the fuck not? They reaped the benefits. All three of them.

At Harvard, he slowed down, so I’d get to see the huge lawns, students, and campus. From the outside. Always from the outside.

We then passed by a mall that our company—I insisted on calling it our—built.

I cried when Finn pointed out what should’ve been his parents’ home. When my tears dried, it got me thinking.

And I haven’t stopped until now.

“The fries too, little rose.”

Despite this being my first meal of the day at six in the evening, I’m not terribly hungry. I have questions, ones that only my godfathers can answer.

But Finn ordered me to eat. And submitting to him, to the three of them, is a new favorite of mine.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice huskier.

“Thank you,” I say between bites, my face burning.

Once the fries are washed down with my coke, I ask him, “Are you my boyfriend?”

He lets out a rugged laugh, grabs the back of my chair, and drags me to him.

“Little rose.” He smells of leather, his mouth of the minty gum he’s chewing on. And of sex. Tons of it. “I thought we made it clear, didn’t we?”

His undivided attention twists my stomach in knots. Makes my pussy wet again, dampening my already-soaked panties from the two orgasms he gave me this morning.

“You three said I’m yours. Yours doesn’t mean girlfriend.”

His smirk stretches at my discomfort. His thumb draws a hot trail across my cheek. The dim light in here is hardly enough to see anything other than our food. Still, though, his knowing hazel eyes tell me he sees past my confident act.

Finn sees everything.

“Yeah, we did say that. That means you’re more than our girlfriend. You’re our everything.” He grabs my wrist, pressing my palm to the bulge in his jeans. “But fuck, hearing you say it makes me so fucking hard, Bri.”

Bri. A new nickname. An endearing one.

On its own, my hand runs up and down Finn’s length.

“Fuck.” His hips buck, pressing me to his erection. His lips are at my throat, his teeth sharp on my skin and his soft hair tingles me. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day, girlfriend.”

“Oh.” My surprise forces a gasp out of me. Makes me squeeze his dick harder.

Finn groans, a hungry beast right before it pounces on its prey.

His fingers sink into my hair, and he pulls my mouth to his, coaxing my lips open.

At first, Finn sucks on my lips gently. But he’s not a patient man, and it’s not long before he darts his tongue into my mouth, passing me his gum.

The eerily intimate gesture doesn’t gross me out. I glue the chewed gum to the roof of my mouth, teasing him to work to get it back.

“Kinky,” he murmurs into my mouth, forcing me closer, licking me harder.

I try to fight him and lose. He’s relentless, plunging his tongue deeper until he grabs the gum and pulls it back.

“Real kinky.” He winks, blowing a bubble.

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