Vampire Haven Book 1 Excerpts

Have You Ever Been Kissed?

The Vampire Haven Book 1

Excerpts are NSFW! ~ CW: blood

Finn and August: A gorgeous, charming vampire looking for his happily-eternally-after falls ridiculously hard for a shy, nerdy human who’s never had a date in his life.

Finn Sullivan is among the most eligible bachelors in Chicago, with movie-star good looks and a reputation as a talented gentle dom. Secretly, he’s also a vampire looking for the love of his life in the shape of a human who wants a very long-term relationship. Finn realizes almost immediately upon meeting introverted, inexperienced August Amesbury that August could be The One. But Finn’s been disappointed in love before—will sweet, shy August only break his heart once more?

August Amesbury can get his head around the idea of actual vampires congregating in a diner to have lots of sex. And while he has no idea what these (very) friendly strangers mean when they say August is a sub in need of a gentle dom, he’s down for figuring that out. What August can’t believe is that Finn Sullivan, the most beautiful person in the world, could actually be interested in awkward, geeky August. But that could be a problem, because August is pretty sure he’s already falling in love.

Tropes: charming/shy, gentle dom/sub, virginity kink, strangers to lovers

Excerpt from Chapter 1: So vampires are very real (and very hot)

The man at the blood bank had not been kidding.

August Amesbury was watching a trio of men in an intimate embrace. A handsome, dark-haired man licked a stream of blood off another man’s neck. The, ah, donor, as it were, shivered as the man’s tongue reached his jaw line, leaning back into the arms of a blond man with freckles, who took a slow lick of blood himself.

The donor was aroused, visibly hard in his blue jeans, eyes half-closed, making tiny panting noises.

So vampires were real and this was a place to get up close and personal with their teeth. And other body parts. Yeah, this was getting very personal.

August looked away, his cheeks hot.

The man from the blood bank—the freckled one now sucking on the donor’s neck—had invited August to what he called a “haven,” but it looked unexpectedly like a diner, except without windows. There was a well-lit counter, where August sat on a red stool, and a semi-open kitchen with two large refrigerators.

Behind August various people in darkened booths and couches were sucking blood and apparently other things as well. August didn’t turn around to look, but he could hear their sounds of pleasure.

The freckled blood-bank vampire, Sean, was instead having his meal under the bright lights, leaning a hip against the counter just a few feet down from August’s turkey sandwich and lemonade.

August honestly had no idea why he’d merited an invitation to the Haven. He’d gone to the blood bank to donate out of goodwill, but mostly lack of funds, due to his recent move. He’d thought vampires were fictional, and gay vampires maybe even more so, but here he was watching two of them have dinner right next to him, and August had to wonder if perhaps Sean had invited August to eat dinner and then be dinner.

August had never been dinner. Well, even without the blood part. The very handsome but still entirely clothed donor was getting touched in places August had never been touched, with clothes or without them. Christ, August had never even been kissed the way the dark-haired vampire was kissing first the donor and then Sean, all tongue and hands cupping jaws and muffled moaning.

This didn’t seem to be a strictly gay vampire diner-slash-sex club—the other groups in the dimly lit sections were mixed, but to August, who had never really understood what was meant by feminine sex appeal, this was the most arousing thing he’d ever seen, let alone from three feet away.

Sitting at the counter with his sandwich, August couldn’t help but imagine himself in the arms of two handsome men—or even one!—leaning into someone’s embrace with their mouth pressed against his throat, sucking, licking, the heel of their hand rubbing against August’s dick, which was now so hard it was difficult to sit on a stool. August hadn’t ever thought he’d want to have an erotic experience in front of a whole diner, but honestly, if a man was squeezing his ass like that, August might not care where they were.

When the donor started making a high-pitched whining, Sean took his hand, grinning, and the three went through a door to an even more dimly lit section of the restaurant. August returned his head to its natural orientation and was surprised to remember he had half a sandwich waiting for him.

He barely recognized what food was.

“Doing all right?” said a low voice, and August looked up to see a very attractive person of indeterminate gender taking the stool next to him. Their hair was shaved from the nape to above their ears, but long and purple at the top, their eyelids rainbow, and their lips glittery gold. “I’m Charlie,” they said.

August tried to bring himself back to reality, though to be fair, that wasn’t really that useful, because reality right now was a vampire sex club. “August. I have no idea why I’m here.”

“Existential crisis, got it.” Charlie smiled. “Sean must’ve thought you’d fit in. Not squeamish about blood or sex, queer-friendly, good with secrets.”

“How on earth would he know that?”

“He’s psychic. Reads people if he touches them.” Charlie took a drink from a mug of pale coffee and somehow none of their lipstick came off on the rim.

August supposed if there were vampires, there might as well be psychics too. Sean had held the door for August as August left the blood bank, laying a hand on August’s shoulder briefly before following him into the parking lot and saying You know, there’s another place you can donate blood, and the pay is better. “Are all vampires psychic?” he asked.

“No, just Sean. Nobody knows why. Anyway, vampires need fresh blood, literally, so he recruits humans he thinks might enjoy it.”

“Oh, you’re not—?”

“Nah, human. Older than I look though.” August figured the makeup might be taking off about ten years, so Charlie could be around 30. Charlie leaned an arm on the counter, twisting on their stool to face him. “So what do you do when you’re not watching vampires fuck?”

August coughed, his hips twitching, jeans still far too tight. “I fix things. Um, I mean repairs. Like electronics. I just got a job in a shop, but I’d like to teach someday. Community college or something. I don’t know if students would be any better than customers, though.” August took a long drink of his lemonade to stop himself babbling.

“That sounds cool. So you’re new in town?”

“My cousin asked me to move here, but I don’t think he really wanted me to. So what do you do for a living?”

Charlie looked like they wanted to ask about the cousin thing, but August was already sorry he’d mentioned it.

“I work here,” Charlie said.

“Oh. Uh, cook?”

“Entree. Universal donor. House red?” Charlie tapped pink nails on the counter, grinning. “The Haven’s got the bagged stuff for free, but fresh is better, and not everybody can afford it. They don’t want anyone prowling for humans, so they pay me a salary to be on tap.”

“House red,” August said, appreciative. “As in blood.” He swallowed as he heard a satisfied groan from behind them.

Charlie looked sympathetic. “This place can be overwhelming at first.”

August hoped Charlie didn’t look into his lap. He tried to say something that sounded competent and came out with, “I don’t know very much about sex.” Which wasn’t strictly true, August knew how sex worked, he just had never—well, worked it. Charlie did not look terribly surprised by this revelation. “So I’m an odd person to invite to a sex haven,” August said.

“Well, strictly speaking, it’s not a sex haven. It’s just that this place—this is really the only place around here where vampires can be themselves, without the outside world getting a say. And it turns out most folks find blood sucking erotic.” To August’s blush, they added, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great.”

“Oh.” August sighed with relief. “Really? I thought I was a duck out of water.” He was aware he sounded like he was ninety-five, but maybe that wasn’t so bad, since he was surrounded by vampires who might have last been hip in the 17th century.

Charlie’s gaze sharpened like they’d just figured something out, though August had no idea what that might be. “Well, I think you’ve found the water,” they said. “All you need now’s someone to teach you to swim.”

Excerpt from Chapter 2: Truly, passionately, thoroughly kissed

Finn turned the conversation to pleasanter things for a while, August relaxing bit by bit, and Finn leaning in, slowly, until they were closer than new acquaintances generally sat. Not quite close enough to kiss. But enough that August’s breath hitched.

“I know this place is a lot for new people,” Finn said. “But I want to thank you for meeting me tonight.”

August’s eyes fluttered behind his glasses, nervous again. “Oh, um, that’s. I don’t know why they set that up.”

“I believe they said you were my type,” Finn said, unable to keep from smiling.

“But obviously, I’m not.”

“Now, why would you say that?”

August waved his hand. “You said you can see yourself in a mirror, so—”

“August,” Finn said softly. “Trust me. All right?” August eyes were wide with confusion, worry, and such longing. “I’ve been sitting over here trying to think how I could possibly thank Sean for finding you,” Finn said. “Your pretty curls, your blush, your laugh. I find you desperately attractive, I promise you.”

August actually shivered, his shoulders jumping, his eyes now trained on Finn’s face like the rest of the room didn’t exist. Like Finn was the source of his nervousness, but also of his reassurance, and that was when Finn started to realize how incredible this was going to be.

“Have you ever been kissed?” Finn asked.

“Um. Sort of?” August whispered. “I guess.”

“So you’ve never been truly, passionately, thoroughly kissed.”

August shook his head, curls trembling.

“Would you like to be?”

It was beautiful to watch the struggle on August’s face, anxiety warring with desire, until he finally nodded. Finn tried to keep the grin off his face as he leaned in to brush his lips against August’s forehead. He pulled back just enough to see August looking at him in confusion and murmured, “Not here.”

Finn’s legs were unexpectedly shaky when he stood. He took August’s hand to lead him away from the counter, but not all the way into the shadowed corners, where body heat and the smell of blood made Finn recall other pleasurable times. Instead, he took August to a tall table by the wall. A lamp hung there gave light where the sun might come through if the Haven had windows.

August caught his breath as Finn fitted his hands around his waist and easily lifted him to sit on the table.

Finn leaned close to whisper in August’s ear. “I’m afraid I’m not above trying to impress you.”

“Oh, um, that’s really not necessary.”

Finn gently lifted August’s glasses off his face and folded them onto the table. “Near-sighted or far-sighted?”

“Um, near.”

“So you can still see me, then.”

“Pretty sure I have you memorized.”

August’s breaths were shaky, so Finn leaned in and gently kissed his forehead again. Then his cheek, the side of his jaw, the place his pulse jumped in his throat. “Shhh,” he murmured. “It’s all right. I have you.”

That sort of thing didn’t work with every lover, but August took it so beautifully, leaning in, even raising his hand to clutch at Finn’s white cabled sweater. Finn couldn’t help but kiss him on the mouth, briefly, and then again, tasting the softness of him, the warmth of his body.

Then Finn used his thumb to tug August’s mouth open and kissed him for real.

August gave a surprised moan and after a few frozen seconds, pressed forward into it. Finn’s arms closed around him. He kept the kiss slow and gentle, open-mouthed with just a hint of tongue. It felt incredible to have this man in his embrace, all the sweet shyness of him. When Finn pulled away, he wasn’t sure which of them was shaking.

Somehow, Finn had tapped into that hope he usually tried to keep down, but right now, it felt so close. “You’re doing so well for me,” Finn murmured, and watched as August’s pupils blew wide.

Finn couldn’t stop himself from gently gripping August’s throat, tipping his head. “Like this,” he said in a low, commanding voice. August went willingly, and Finn was lost to it. He kissed this beautiful man the way his heart wanted, with gentle guidance and a fair amount of possessiveness, and August responded more ardently than Finn could have hoped for.

August’s bright laugh, his pretty smiles had only hinted at what passion ran within the man, and here, with August’s self-consciousness let go in Finn’s embrace, Finn could taste it all for himself. August did not know how to kiss, but he met Finn’s tongue with his own, making breathless little sounds and chasing Finn’s mouth if it pulled away even slightly.

Finn gently pried August’s hands loose from his sweater and guided his arms around Finn’s neck, which made August slide closer to him, resting on the edge of the table. Finn parted August’s legs with a small push of his hand, and stepped between them, where he was thrilled to find August’s cock stone-hard in his jeans. Not that Finn wasn’t in the same situation.

Finn ran his tongue along August’s lower lip, his hand over the bumps of August’s spine, one by one, down toward his waist. August shivered, opening his mouth to encourage Finn’s tongue back inside. Finn wanted to touch every inch of this man, to learn him by heart, in the dark, in the light, even.

It may not have been the most erotic thing going on in the Haven at that moment, but Finn was certain no couple in a back room could possibly be enjoying themselves more than he was with August in his arms, a man he’d just met, who let himself be kissed with the trust of a long-term lover. August’s legs were squeezing Finn’s hips, and he’d slid to the edge of the table trying to get closer, seeming sure Finn would not let him fall.

Finn sank a hand into August’s wild curls, which made August gasp into the kiss, and God, Finn wanted to hear more of that, but August had started trembling again, and Finn didn’t want him too overwhelmed.

He broke the kiss gently, with his hands cupping August’s face. August looked dazed, lost, his mouth still parted.

“Christ,” Finn breathed, guiding August’s head to his shoulder. He stroked August’s hair, feeling his heartbeat race against Finn’s chest.

Finn wanted nothing more than to pick August up, take him into one of the back rooms, strip him bare, lay him down on a soft bed and feel August’s naked body beneath his own. Would August fold his legs over Finn’s hips if guided to? Would he bare his throat even without guidance?

Finn suspected he might, but if Finn rushed things now, he might frighten August away. It hit Finn suddenly, uncomfortably, that he did not want to lose this man.

Finn tried to keep the shakes out of his voice as he said, “You beautiful thing. Let me buy you dinner.”

Excerpt from Chapter 4: The pretty little human he can’t stop thinking about

Finn was thinking about August again, and that was a problem.

There was a party going on all around Finn, at a house belonging to some famous drummer. There was music, and good food—Finn could smell the food, anyway, he knew better than to get near the tables lest someone knock a bowl of fruit salad onto the floor and he’d have to spend his evening counting grapes. There was laughter, champagne, lovely people, and Finn just kept thinking about August.

About that cry of ecstasy when Finn had made him come, but beyond that, all the little noises leading up to it, the sighs against Finn’s mouth, the adorable tiny gasps of surprise. Finn’s favorite of August’s noises were the desperate half-pleading sounds—not August pleading for Finn’s touch, but August to himself, trying not to tip over into orgasm just because Finn licked the roof of his mouth.

Finn prided himself on being a good lover, but so much of what was happening with August was just August. Finn had never before met a man whose shyness concealed such passion, and to feel that in his arms—to have August’s cries and moans come from Finn’s hands, meant for Finn’s ears—it was breathtaking.

And god, the taste of him. Finn could still feel the warm smoothness of August on his tongue. August Amesbury’s blood was clear and sharp as cut glass, like the sugar-shock of cold lemonade on a hot day. It was the kind of taste a person would mourn if they ever lost it.

Finn enjoyed parties, and he was enjoying this one, but he enjoyed August far more, and that was an immense problem, because Finn had been here before. A beautiful human, shy but eager, who looked up at Finn with pleasure-dark eyes and made him think Maybe this time.

They never meant to break Finn’s heart. And the fact that August seemed more perfect than any of them only made it worse.

It was also more difficult at the moment, because Finn could smell the scent of sex wafting through the air. Couples and larger parties were heading upstairs hungry and coming back happy. Finn could head up if he wanted to. Normally, he would on a night like this, he’d find a friend or stranger who’d go upstairs with him, drop their clothes on the floor of an unoccupied bedroom, and let Finn put one of those satisfied smiles on their faces.

But tonight, the only person Finn wanted stretched out on a bed beneath him was a pretty little human with disorderly curls and the softest, sweetest mouth Finn had kissed in a very long time. Maybe ever. God, August was going to be an absolute dream to fuck, and Finn had enough plans for him to last a weekend, starting with getting his mouth on—

“Finn! There you are.”

Finn realized he’d been staring at the wall, and the party came back to him: fairy lights reflected in a black baby grand piano, the flowing-jerky movement of people dancing, chilled night air from a door propped open, and the scent of blood—B-positive now.

Not quite like August, though. No one else had such ambrosia flowing through their veins.

Oddly enough, this man did look somewhat like August—the same black curls, but not as beautifully wild.

“Logan,” Finn said. “How nice to see you again.”

Logan was handsome, tall with broad shoulders and dark eyes, a bass player for several local bands. He held up a cd. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I saw this and thought of you, our beloved piano player. Ahmad Jamal live at the Jazz Showcase, 1992.” Logan stepped close to press the album against Finn’s chest, and said in a lower voice, “Perhaps we could get together and listen.”

Finn had met Logan at a place like this a year ago, an after party for some concert. For whatever reason, this particular social circle of humans had been especially quick to bestow the label most eligible bachelor on Finn, which was disappointing, because with that ridiculous title came men like Logan.

“That sounds like a wonderful album,” Finn said, leaving unmentioned the fact that he’d actually attended that show, in the Blackstone Hotel, before Logan was born. “I’m sure everyone here would like to hear it. You could go ask the host to put it on.” He did not take the cd.

Disappointment flashed across Logan’s face, and a hint of anger Flinn had glimpsed before, but Logan covered it with a smile. “Of course. Wonderful idea. Now you be good, and wait right here.” Logan even winked as he stepped away.

Finn intended to do no such thing. In fact, as far as he was concerned, the party had lost any luster it’d had. Finn was used to being pursued romantically, and he favored a soft, kind approach when turning people down. Most people understood him just fine. Finn was pretty sure Logan understood too. But Logan was relentless, and Finn didn’t like relentless, it reminded him too much of that dark street the night someone had—

Well. No sense in thinking about 200-year-old events when he could head home and fantasize about August instead.

Thus Finn was utterly surprised when five feet from the back door, he detected the scent of incomparably sweet B-positive, along with lively string music, with the occasional wrong note.

Finn poked his head into what looked like a storeroom, with metal shelves of tapes and cords everywhere. There was a small green couch that held an empty violin case, and in the center of the room, August, with his back to the door and his hands dancing across the strings of a violin. Well, a fiddle, the way he was playing.

Finn’s poor heart felt lighter than it had for days—at least, since the last time he’d been with this beautiful man.

The notes August played were clear as birdsong, the rhythm bright, an old Irish tune Finn had learned at his mother’s blond upright piano so long ago. He could still hear her voice in his memory counting the rhythm, STRAW-berry, STRAW-berry, as Finn played the clunky notes.

“Fucking B-part,” August complained, as he slowed down to start a new melody, and all Finn could think was what incredible music this man would make if given another hundred years to play.

The tune circled back around to the A-part, and ended with a beautiful run of double stops, two notes played at once.

Finn clapped.

August literally jumped and turned, putting the hand holding to bow to his heart like an old lady about to give a scolding. His curls bounced madly, and Finn was laughing, he couldn’t help it.

“Finn.” August’s dark eyes were wide, and Finn could see so much lovely blood rushing to flush his skin. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying your beautiful playing, my darling.”

August blinked, as if he was just remembering he was holding a violin. He put it down carefully on the couch. “It’s not mine, I just saw it and—um, it’s been a while since I played. Obviously.”

“Well, I very much enjoyed it. You have real talent.”

“Oh.” August didn’t seem to care about the compliments, his eyes busy traveling over Finn’s shoulders, his chest, lower.

Finn stepped closer, and August’s breathing picked up.

“I didn’t expect to see you at this party,” Finn said. “It’s a wonderful surprise.”

“Ah, well, my cousin invited me. I was really glad, actually, but then he kind of ditched me, so I wandered and I saw the fiddle—”

Finn dropped his voice low. “Mmm, and how well you’ve done, my dearest, finding a place for us to be alone.”

August gasped, a sound of overwhelming want, and Finn could not wait another second. He grasped August, pulled him close, and took that sweet mouth once more. It started soft, but grew, because August was learning, blossoming, really. His hands clutched Finn’s shirt, and then slid up to wind around Finn’s neck without being guided. He sank into Finn’s embrace, letting Finn lick into his mouth and tangle his fingers in August’s curls, kissing back with intense hunger.

Finn rewarded him—both of them—by sliding a thigh between August’s legs, giving him something to rut his hardening cock against.

August moaned loudly, and then pulled back suddenly, a hand over his mouth to cover a breathless laugh. “I forgot this wasn’t the Haven.”

Finn grinned at him. “Mmm, well, that’s because you haven’t been upstairs.” It was adorable that August looked scandalized.

Finn still had a hand on August’s arm, and he was about to pull him in for further, slightly quieter love-making, but Finn heard someone’s steps approaching. He let go of August, desperately wishing he’d taken this sweet little human with him and escaped before Logan found him again.

“There you—” Logan started, walking into the room, and then froze. “August. I—you—you’ve met Finn.”

All traces of the blush Finn had put on August’s cheeks were abruptly gone. He was as pale as his white shirt, staring at Finn. “Oh, god, you’re—fuck, of course you are, Logan’s always talking about you. I just—I didn’t remember the name—”

The clues clicked into place with sickening ease: the hair, the blood type, August’s presence at the party. “Your cousin is Logan,” Finn said slowly.

“Well, of course I’m always talking about him,” Logan cut in, flustered. “We’re close friends, aren’t we, Finn?”

August’s eyes widened, and he dropped Finn’s gaze.

“How did you two meet?” Logan asked, his voice sharp.

“Someone introduced us,” Finn said. Irritation and worry filled him, and god, he wanted to tell Logan everything: Your cousin is standing in a doorway to my heart that I didn’t mean to open, and by the way, he’s fucking beautiful when he comes.

Excerpt from Chapter 6: Do you really think you could come to just my voice?

Well, phone sex was a good distraction from Finn’s worries. And God, August was so fucking hot getting all out of breath just because Finn had lowered his voice.

“Am I on speaker phone?” Finn asked.

“Yes.”

“Very good. Now take your clothes off, please. I want that beautiful body completely bare for me. Tell me as you do it.”

Finn heard a shuffling of fabric and took a moment to remove his own sweater.

“Okay, I took off my t-shirt. And I’m taking my jeans off. Um, then underwear too, and socks.”

Finn palmed his thickening cock over his pants. “Beautiful. You brave thing, you’re doing so well.” August made a little whining sound and Finn grinned. “Where do you want me to fuck you tonight, little one?”

“Anywhere.” The word was a groan.

“Hmmm. How about the chair by your desk, in your bedroom? Can you sit there for me?”

“Yeah.” After a moment, Finn heard the squeaking of the chair.

“Very good. Now, August, I want you to spread your legs wide for me. Put one up over the arm if you can. But don’t touch your cock.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Are you hard, darling?”

“Yeah.” August gave a breathy laugh. “Are you?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sitting on my bed with my shirt off and my zipper down. You’ll be right here with me Saturday, naked and wanting.” August moaned. “And someday,” Finn said, pitching his voice even lower, “If you want, I might tie your hands to my bedposts, cover you with my body, fuck you senseless just as long as I like. What do you think about that?”

“Fuck, Finn, you have to let me touch myself, please.”

Finn heard the chair squeaking, and imagined August’s hips jerking in the air, his heated cock dripping precome. A thought occurred to him. “Darling, do you really think you could come to just my voice?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to know these things?”

Finn laughed. “Well, I’d like to find out. What do you say, little one?”

August made an adorable noise of frustration, but he said, “Okay.”

“Very good. Now, my darling, I want you to imagine me in your room with you. I’ve got my shirt off, and you can see how hard I am for you, see my cock straining in my pants.”

“Okay.”

“And now I’m down on my knees for you—widen those legs for me, please—very good. And now I’m leaning in, and you can feel my warm breath against your cock.”

“Oh, fuck, Finn.”

“Mmm, we’ll get there. I’m going to trace my tongue all the way from the base of your cock to the very tip. Does that sound nice?”

“Yeah.” August was panting harder now.

“Then I’ll do it again. And then I think I’ll suck you—just a little, just the tip of you, swirl my tongue around—” The squeaking grew louder. “August, I think perhaps you’re wanting to thrust into my mouth.”

“Yes. Oh, fuck, Finn.”

“Go ahead, then. Slide your cock over my tongue. I’ll close around you, doesn’t that feel good? And then you can push in, as far as you want, and pull out again, and then push harder into my mouth. I lean in so you can slide your dick down into my throat. Oh, you stretch me, darling so heavy on my tongue. I bet you’re leaking, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” August gasped.

“Oh, I love the taste of it. I’ll lick it off your skin and suck it right down my throat. Just a light taste of what I’ll take when you fill up my mouth with your come.”

“Oh, god, Finn, I need—I need to—”

“Poor thing, I’ll give you something. Touch your nipples for me, darling, rub and pinch yourself like I would. You can look down and see my lips red around your cock, my mouth stretched wide. Oh, you slide in so well, darling, and I’ll suck you every time you pull out, begging you to push back inside.”

“Finn, I’m so close, please!”

“I’m right there with you, my love. Think of me, looking up at you as I take you deep into my throat, all the way down, until you can’t help but—”

August gave a harsh cry and Finn knew he was coming.

“Touch yourself, love,” Finn said, breathless. “You can use your hand now to ride it out.”

Slick sounds came over the phone, and then nothing but August panting.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Finn said, in a normal voice. “That was incredible. God, you are so responsive. So passionate.”

“Finn, please, I’m still hard, are you hard?”

“So fucking hard, I’m fisting myself, hot and slick for you, my obedient little thing, thinking about you all alone with your cock hard and come all over your thighs.”

“Oh, fuck, can I—”

“Yes. Stroke yourself off with me, oh, fuck, August—” He could hear August’s desperate noises increasing. “I’ve been thinking about you topping me. Your cock is so thick, and I keep thinking about lying on my stomach for you, and feeling your weight on top of me. Your pretty fingers slide inside me, all slick, working me open for you, until I say I’m ready. Then I’d tell you to put that thick, gorgeous dick of yours into my tight—”

August shouted in ecstasy again and Finn followed him, spurting all over his hand.

So that was Wednesday.

Photo credits for Book 1 moodboard:

Photographs are from Pexels. Top left/center: Nathan Martins; Top right: Rizwan Aslam; Center: cottonbro studio; Bottom left: Ayman Bardi; Bottom center: Eman Genatilan; Bottom right: Chait Goli