A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

FINLEY

I can’t sleep. It’s stupid, but it’s true. And it’s weird. Feeling so damn bone tired but unable to turn my brain off. I blame the frog on my nightstand. I threw a towel over its terrarium as soon as Dylan and Reeves left, hoping the whole out of sight, out of mind phenomenon would kick in, but it hasn’t done shit.

Deep breaths, Fin.

It’s more than the devil’s presence, though. I don’t know how I know, but I do. Flipping onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. It’s late. It’s dark. I’ve already washed my face, brushed my teeth, and taken my medicine. So, why can’t I sleep?

Go. To. Sleep.

My blood boils for no reason at all. Well, I guess that isn’t entirely true. I’m pissed. At my foot. At Drew. At Griffin. At myself. At fate. It’s annoying and frustrating and irritating and irrational and…I really, really wish I could sleeeep.

Slapping my arms against the covers, I squeeze every muscle in my body as tight as I can, then force them to relax.

It doesn’t do shit.

A soft groan echoes from the vent, and my attention snaps to the sound. Seriously? Am I so horny I’m hallucinating?

Another low groan rumbles through the vent. My eyes pop wide, and I sit up in bed. Yup. Yup, I most definitely just heard Griffin doing…something.

I bite the inside of my cheek, attempting to remember whether or not I heard him invite anyone over before I hobbled up to my room.

I don’t think so, though.

He never brings girls here. Or at least, not since Dylan, Ophelia, and I moved in.

Another muffled groan slips from the vents, and I press my thighs together.

Well, damn, Griff. Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.

I smirk and shift toward the vent in the floor, holding my breath as my ears strain to listen.

Heavy breathing greets me, and my grin widens.

Yeah, he’s definitely rubbing one out.

Although, now that I think about it, I could always…

I don’t even let myself finish the thought. Why? Because my spank bank material is unusually saturated with a certain someone I’m not supposed to think about, and now, with the additional soundtrack, I’m almost positive this is as close to cheating as possible without technically crossing the line.

Honestly, though? Griffin is one of those guys. He’s so…untouchable it doesn’t even really feel like I would be fantasizing about a friend, and I’m not the only one. I’m pretty sure Griffin Thorne stars in more girls’ fantasies than he’ll ever fully understand. There’s something about hi m. Lopsided grin. Blue-green eyes. Easy-going personality. And just enough emotional distance to have a girl’s imagination running wild.

Wondering if she can fix him. If she can convince him to settle down. If she can be the one to steal his attention from the real love of his life: hockey. It’s silly but true.

Griffin’s a mirage. A temptation. A glimpse of what you want most but are never able to reach.

Tonight isn’t any different.

I wonder what he looks like right now. Is he video chatting with someone? Is he watching porn? Is he using his imagination? If he is, what’s he thinking about? Who is he thinking about?

His panting echoes through the vent, and I gulp.

Pour me a tall glass of water because this guy sounds…hot.

This much I know.

I shouldn’t be thinking about Griffin or eavesdropping, but, uh…damn.

“Fuuuuck…” The word is low and throaty and raspy and…

I press my thighs together.

This is bad. This is really bad. Before I started dating Drew, Griffin was an easy guy to fantasize about. I blamed it on my teenage hormones and a lazy imagination because he was always there. And it’s not like I thought anything would actually happen between us. I’d never put our friendship—or Griffin’s friendship with Everett—on the line. But, uh, call me a sucker for being a girl who wants what she can’t have because I have a feeling this is a solid album for an easy orgasm tonight if I’m stupid enough to take advantage.

Me and Griff.

On the couch .

In the car.

At the rink.

It doesn’t matter. It never mattered. I’d think of him and… hello there, orgasm .

But that was before. Before Drew and I started dating. Before Drew threw down the gauntlet.

Don’t. Even. Think about it.

I could use an orgasm, though.

Especially when masculine grunting is filtering through the vents, and I’m stuck with my own lonely thoughts as company.

Nibbling on the edge of my lip, I weigh the pros and cons, deciding sleep is more important than mental cheating, thanks to our relationship already feeling like a bumpy car ride lately. But if I only use the orgasm-inducing sounds and pin them with fantasies of Drew, then it’s fine, right?

Yeah. Hello, loophole. Besides, doctors in the early 1900s would get their patients off all the time under the guise of mental health. Who’s to say I’m not doing the same thing? A little…self-treating female hysteria. See? Perfectly rational and totally acceptable.

I almost choke on my snort as I slip my hand under the thick white comforter and into my underwear.

Drew , I remind myself. Picture Drew.

I’ll just…use the little groans as fuel on an already smoldering ember.

Totally. Completely. Fine.

Closing my eyes, I imagine Drew on top of me. His hand sliding into my underwear. His…I sigh, annoyed by my own annoyance. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

With an annoyed huff, I try to focus.

Sleep. You’re doing this for sleep.

My mouth twitches, and I glance at the closed door, imagining what I would do if someone walked in right now. If they caught me…listening. I slip my hand further into my underwear. Yup. I’m soaked. Gently, I dip my finger inside and circle my clit, creating a…different and completely out-of-reach scenario.

“Hey, Fin?” a low voice growls from the hallway.

My breath hitches. “Yes?”

The door squeaks as it’s pushed open.

Resting his shoulder against the doorjamb, Griffin crosses his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I lie.

His gaze falls to the sheets draped over me. “You sure?”

I nod, slipping my finger deeper inside of me.

“Looks to me like you’re playing with yourself.”

I gasp and use my opposite hand to squeeze my boob. Shit, they’re so sensitive lately.

“Your cheeks are red,” Griffin whispers. “You’re pretty when you blush.”

“Who says I’m blushing?”

He pushes himself away from the doorjamb and strides closer to my bed. Grasping the sheets, he pulls them off the bed, exposing my spread legs as I play with my center.

I want to stop. I should stop. But…

His gaze darkens, and he cocks his head. “What are you thinking about, Fin?”

My mouth curves up. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Now go away. I’m a little busy.”

“Looks that way.” The bed dips as he sits on the edge of the mattress, watching the white cotton sheets rustle near my crotch. His hand finds my knee, the heat burning the inside of my thigh as his attention slides to my face. “Need any help?”

“Maybe,” I breathe out.

“You want my mouth or my cock? ”

I press my fingers harder against my clit and rock my hips.

“Mouth,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as my imagination runs wild. “I want your mouth, Griff.”

His lips quirk, and he climbs onto the bed. My legs fall open even more as he reaches for my underwear and shifts it to the side, blowing on my exposed skin and dragging the tip of his tongue along my slit.

My fingers move faster as I imagine it. His eyes pinning me in place as he tastes me.

Fuck.

I push my fingers deeper inside me, crooking them and moaning quietly, grateful Griffin’s too distracted by his own entertainment for the evening to pay attention to lil’ ol’ me on the top floor.

Pumping my fingers, I rub my clit with the heel of my hand, imagining what Griff sounds like when he eats a girl out. If he’s quiet. If he likes it. If he watches or closes his eyes as he licks and sucks and?—

“Fuck, Griff,” I moan. “Fuck.”

I fall apart, unraveling against my hand as my back arches off the mattress, and my eyes fall back in my head.

When I finally come back to earth, my chest heaves, and I slowly catch my breath, savoring the tingles in my limbs and the aftershocks from my core as they spread along my body.

Seriously.

Why is masturbation so fucking good compared to most of my sexual encounters? I sigh and slip my hand from my underwear, throw off my covers, and head to the bathroom across the hall to use the restroom and wash my hands. Once I’m finished, I climb back into bed and fall asleep within minutes.