Page 67 of The Bright Omega

“Piers met Leith in Chicago. Leith was running security on some buildings Piers had just bought. They got along, and Leith’s the one who convinced Beck and me to apply for positions here in East Rock. He has family here, which is nice, but mostly he thought Beck and I could make careers here. Piers can work anywhere. So we all moved.”

“And you and Leith?” I bite my lip waiting for the answer.

Finn shrugs, a little self-conscious. “It wasn’t some big dramatic moment. We kept ending up in each other’s space.”

I squeeze his hand and sit with that for a second. There's something about the way he says it, simple and certain, that makes me want to ask the thing I've been turning over for a while. "Does it worry you? That I'm here now?"

Finn looks at me. "Worry me how?"

"That I'll change things between you two. That I'll get in the way of what you two have together."

He's quiet for a moment, which with Finn means he's actually thinking about it rather than just reassuring me. "No," he says finally. "If anything, you make it easier. You see us. Both of us. You're not threatened by what Leith and I are to each other."

I think about that first night at the club. Leith's hand at Finn's shoulder, steering us both. The way Finn looked to Leith on the dance floor before he let himself move. The quiet language between them that I'd clocked immediately and hadn't wanted to interrupt. "I love watching you two together," I say honestly. "I don't want to change that. I want to be somewhere in it. If there's room."

Finn's grip on my hand tightens. "There's room," he says.

I look at him for a second. Then I dip down and kiss him. The movement pulls at my still-healing side, not painful exactly, but enough of a reminder that I pause. Finn notices immediately. His steady hand slides gently to my side, supporting me.

“Better?” he murmurs against my lips as he stands, stepping between my thighs so I’m sitting more firmly on the edge of his desk.

“Much,” I breathe.

We stay like that for a while. Enjoying slow, easy kisses. Then his hands slide up my thighs, pushing my dress higher as he kisses me again, still tender but hungrier now. I reach down and palm him through his pants. He’s already hard, and when I squeeze, he groans into my mouth.

I pull back enough to whisper, “Professor…”

Finn’s breath catches. His scent spikes. “Careful,” he says, his composure slipping. “You keep calling me that and you’ll have to stay after class.”

Fuck. That does it for me.

I moan softly and tug him closer. “I want you, Finn. Please.”

He checks in one more time, always careful. “Are we allowed?”

“Not knots or anything rough. But, yes. Please,” I whisper, already aching. “I want this. I want you.”

Finn kisses me again, then pulls my dress up to my waist and slides my panties down my legs. He dips his long fingers inside me, curling them perfectly. The pressure is exact and relentless and I come almost instantly, clenching hard around his fingers, thighs locking around his hand.

He groans at how wet I am, slick already running down my thighs. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, almost reverent, as he frees his cock. It’s long and perfectly formed. Smooth, flushed, with a slight upward curve that I already know will hit every perfect spot. I moan at the sight of it.

He lines up and pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching me open until he’s filling me so carefully that I feel every one of those inches. I’m so wet that he slides in easily, but he doesn’t rush it. He watches my face the entire time.

“Fuck, Cammie,” he breathes when he bottoms out. “You feel… perfect.”

He starts to move with deep, rolling thrusts that are tender but devastating. I wrap my legs around him, heels digging into his back as he fucks me on his desk.

He slides his right hand to my neck, slowly, cuffing me just enough to make me moan. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I beg.

His fingers hold there without pressure, just the weight of his hands.

“One day,” I gasp between moans, “when I’m fully healed… you’re going to put this perfect cock in my ass.”

Finn’s fingers tighten. He makes a choked sound and thrusts harder for a second before catching himself. “Keep saying things like that,” he pants, forehead pressed to mine, “and you’ll definitely get an A.”

I laugh breathlessly, then moan as he hits that spot again and again. He fucks me like he worships me. Every move steady and deep, and so attentive I feel like I might shatter from how good it feels.