One second I was standing at the counter, watching the first drips of coffee land in the pot, and the next, I was thrown against the wall. I thought Fin was going to punch me—not that he had a reason to—but instead, he kept pushing into me. His hard body was against mine, and I could feel the thick bulge in his pants. Hard lips crashed into mine with bruising strength.
Fin pulled back. His face twisted in anger and pain. Opening my mouth to ask him what the hell he was doing, I was shut up by his lips descending on mine again. The kiss was hard and desperate. Angry and wild. Rough and delicious.
Hands traveled down my arms, skirted across my taut stomach, only to then dive down and grip my straining cock through my jeans.
Letting out a groan, my hands moved of their own volition. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Fin Huntington would be touching me like this. My breath picked up as my fingertips moved under the hem of his shirt, and felt the silky expanse of skin on his washboard abs.
I wanted more. I needed to taste him. To taste the monster because I might never get another chance. Breaking the kiss, I nipped down his neck as I slowly started to undo the belt on his jeans. I tugged his fly open and was ready to take a knee when Fin jerked out of my grip.
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