But Robbie wasn’t here as a boyfriend, he was here as a friend. One who was very proud of Finn for being in the running to coach a promising ice-dance team and who just happened to see a framed cross-stitch with an ornate flowery pattern and cursive text that read: Not Loving Myself Is Total Bullshit. TheBullshitwas rainbow coloured. How could Robbie resist buying it as a congratulations present?
Fuck it. Robbie was here now—it would be silly to leave.
He grabbed his reusable canvas tote and headed for the door.
He ran into Holly on the doorstep.
Shit.
“Uh, I have a present—” he started, lifting up the bag.
Holly held up a hand, even as she eyed the bold font on the side of the bag that read I Usually Forget This Bag in My Car, and kept walking. “I am not here. I was not here. I left five minutes ago for my meeting and won’t be back for three hours. I am blissfully unaware of anything happening in my home.”
Well. That happened.
Figuring that was as good a permission as any to enter the home, Robbie tried the latch and found it unlocked. He stepped through the front door and locked it behind him.
Soft music wafted from the room on the right, so he took a few steps forward, peered inside, and—
Jesus H. fucking Christ on a pogo stick.
Robbie must’ve made a noise, because Finn’s eyes snapped open. His palms, pressed against the mat at his hips, twitched, and his toes flexed where they dug into rubber above his head. Finn was folded in half with his ass on display like an offering.
He looked up at Robbie from between his legs, and whatever wild, hungry look Robbie was giving him made him gulp.
“Babygirl,” he purred. “Did you do that on purpose? Set yourself up so your ass was on display if someone walked in?”
Finn lowered his lashes coyly. “I might have if I’d known you were coming.”
“Fuck. You little tart. Spread out in front of me in fucking plow pose.”
Finn’s muscles started to tremble.
“Naughty girl.” Robbie set down the bag and dropped to his knees. “I’ve been thinking about your ass since you showed it off in those sassy shorts. Think you can hold this pose while I do what they asked for, sweetheart?”
Finn’s breath hitched, but he hesitated just enough.
“Or do you want to unfold and roll over? Lie on your stomach while I eat your pretty pussy?”
Finn hastily slung his legs up until he lay flat on his back and then scrambled to turn over.
Robbie prowled forward on hands and knees until he was straddling Finn’s thighs and cupping his ass. “You are going to be the death of me, babygirl.”
“Me? You’re the one who walked in here with dirty talk. I was just doing yoga.” He attempted to affect indignance, but he was breathing too harshly and squirming too much for Robbie to believe the act.
“Brat. Keep up the attitude and I might have to spank you again.” Robbie slid his fingers in Finn’s waistband and peeled back his shorts and underwear.
“You always do yoga in pretty pink panties?” Before Finn could answer, Robbie lifted his hips and stuffed a throw pillow topped with the yoga towel underneath. He grabbed a cheek in each palm and squeezed. “Your ass is a peach. I’ve been dying to eat it.”
“So then why—why aren’t you?” Finn gasped.
There was only one way to answer that kind of bratty question. Robbie leaned in and bit one round plump cheek.
Finn arched into it. He tried to spread his legs, so Robbie shifted to get his own knees between Finn’s thighs, focused on the goal—his tongue, Finn’s ass.
He leaned in and licked from Finn’s balls up to his hole. He lapped gently, covering him in spit, getting him wet. Finn moaned into the yoga mat.
“Mmm.” Robbie pulled back and blew cool air on the wet skin. Goose bumps rose on Finn’s back and thighs.
