12. Margo
TWELVE
MARGO
I’m going to hell.
There’s no way I make it through the pearly gates now, not when I’m down here about to fuck myself with a Christmas ornament while a man I barely know watches me.
Jesus is probably rolling in his grave because of what a ho-ho-hoe I am.
I’ve officially lost my mind, but as I spit on the tip of the condom-covered ornament and slowly push it inside myself, I don’t give a damn about being sane.
“ Fuck ,” I moan.
The ornament is thicker than any toy I’ve used. It takes a few seconds of adjusting, but soon I welcome the unusual sensation as my sore thighs open wider to accommodate the new stretch.
“Not too deep,” Finn warns, and his voice is closer than it was before. I open my eyes and find him standing, his hand on the desk and his attention on me. “Just a little more, Margo, then you need to stop.”
For as enjoyable as this ornament is, I want his cock instead. I want him buried inside me like he was last night, and I miss his body on mine.
I press the Christmas tree another inch forward and groan, feeling so good while doing something wrong.
“Put the phone back on your clit while I finish recording,” he says, and I love how commanding his voice is. It snaps me into action, and I move the phone low on my stomach as the vibrations ripple through me.
“It’s too much.” I squeeze my eyes shut, overstimulated. “Why aren’t you fucking me?”
“Be a good girl and be patient, Margo.” He clears his throat and starts reading again. “ Maxine is making the same noises she made when I heard her come last week, and I can tell she’s close. She twists her wrist to find a new angle and lifts her back off the bed. Her feet drag up the sheets and her toes curl. I wonder what she would look like on the back of my motorcycle. What she would look like riding the handle of a knife or the barrel of a gun. Unbelievable, I bet. She fucks herself harder, and I watch, mesmerized, when she cries out. She moans so loud, I’m sure her neighbors can hear, and I give into temptation, stroking myself as she comes on the toy I wish was my cock .”
My own moan matches the one the girl in the book might be making. This is mind-blowing. The filthiest and most depraved thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t care, because the orgasm is so good, so new , I fall apart piece by piece.
I don’t have time to come down from the high because the improvised toy is pulled out of me. Warm hands rest on my thigh and a thumb presses on my clit. I buck my hips, searching for the friction I just had, and when I open my eyes, Finn is stroking his cock.
“Fuck me,” I whisper. “Hard. Rough.”
“I still have the recording going.”
“Don’t care.” I tug on his sweatpants until they fall to the ground. “Let everyone hear.”
“I knew I liked you.” Finn laughs when I reach for him, and he laces our fingers together. “Was what we did last night okay, Margo? Did you like all of that? Do you want me to try something different?”
I’ve spent less than twenty-four hours with him, but it feels like I know him. Like this kindness isn’t an act he’s putting on to get some action. He truly means it, and I rest a hand on his cheek.
“Last night was perfect.” I sink my teeth into his lower lip, happy to hear his soft grunt when I smooth over the bite with the tip of my tongue. “It’s your last chance, Finn. Make me remember you.”
That fuels the fire in him, because he’s putting a condom on his cock. Lining up with my entrance and gripping my thighs with that strength I like about him. When our eyes meet, I give him a small nod, and he turns his cheek to kiss the inside of my palm.
He pushes the head of his cock inside my pussy, and I groan. “We both know you’re not going to forget me anytime soon.”
He’s so damn right, and I hate him because of it.
Without any of last night’s fanfare, without any of the foreplay we did the first and second and third times we were together, he buries himself in me, sinking all the way in until I can feel him everywhere .
“God,” I grit out. He’s the longest and thickest I’ve ever had, and talking is difficult. “You’re so good at this.”
“Your nicknames are cute. Finn is just fine.” He braces his hands on the curve of the chair behind me and rolls his hips. “I’ve been fucking women for years, and no one’s felt as good as you.”
I’m almost folded like a pretzel, but his words are charming.
I know it’s a line he’s using to make the moment more intimate and personal. He doesn’t actually believe it, but for half a second, I pretend like he does.
I pretend like this is something we do every day, and it’s the only reason why I run my palms across his shoulders and whisper, “Kiss me, Finn.”
His lips capture mine, and I put everything I have into our kiss. It makes up for the shit I endured with Jeremy. For my years of crappy dating and this deep-rooted fear I have about never wanting to settle down because I might not be good enough.
It’s like we’re playing a game to see who’s the most aggressive, and I think Finn might be winning because he cups my cheek. He drives into me at the same time his tongue brushes against mine, and I never thought rough sex could also be so sweet and sensual.
From this angle, he can get deeper than he did last night. He uses his height to his advantage as he thrusts forward, our bodies connecting and finding a rhythm I’ve never experienced with another partner.
The slap of our skin echoes around us, but my moans drown it out. His fingers move to my hips, holding me as the sharp bite of his nails leave half-moon marks on the curves of my body.
“Fucking love your cunt,” Finn says breathlessly. He stares down at me, a laser-sharp focus on my tits as they bounce. “How can I make this better for you, Margo?”
“Could you…” I trail off and take his left hand, guiding it up my stomach. He pinches my nipples, and I suck in a sharp breath, dragging his touch higher. “My throat. I want you to squeeze my throat.”
His eyes flare with lust. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nod and his fingers curl around my neck. “Tighter.”
“If it’s too much, you tap my thigh, understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I joke, and I don’t miss the way he slams into me extra hard. How his thumb strokes up and down my windpipe as pleasure builds low in my belly. “That feels so good.”
We match each other’s enthusiasm, a push and pull that has me lifting my hips to meet his thrusts and his grip on my neck tightening ever so slightly. Our panting is synchronized, and when Finn squeezes just hard enough to turn the edges of my vision blurry, I know I’m close to falling apart.
“I’m close,” I whisper. My energy is waning and I can feel the twelve hours of aggressive fucking catching up to me. “And once I finish, I want you to fill me up.”
“Goddamn.” He folds his body over mine. His thighs knock against the edge of the chair and the hand at my throat moves to my head. He pulls on the ends of my hair hard enough for my neck to jerk back and look at him. “I could worship your pussy all day. Come for me, Margo. Show me how well you can milk my cock.”
That deep voice does me in and I cry out, the orgasm crashing into me like a wave. It wraps me up tight, a full-body experience I feel all the way down to my toes. I convulse and shake, riding the high for longer than I ever have in my life.
Finn’s movements turn sloppy. His words come out slurred and his eyes roll to the back of his head when I use my remaining energy to hold my legs open so his cock can reach new places. With another quick slap of his hips, he groans. His release sneaks up on him when I touch his ass and run my finger over the curve of his backside.
“ Hell ,” he gasps, and he stills inside me. “I’ve never done that before.”
“You don’t think this is heaven?” I wince when he pulls out of me, my legs sore and heavy. “And it might be time to admit you’re an ass man, Mr. Mathieson.”
He carefully rolls the condom down his length and ties it off, tossing it in the trash can in the corner of the room. Finn grabs the forgotten ornament sitting on his desk and drops to his knees, his mouth pressing hot kisses to the inside of my thigh.
“Can you give me one more?” he asks, brushing the top of the Christmas tree along my entrance. He licks my clit, and I whine. “One more before you hit the road.”
I’m not sure if I have it in me, but all fears about my lack of energy evaporate when Finn worships me, coaxing me to a third orgasm as he gently talks me through the rush of adrenaline flooding my veins. It’s quick and sharp, surprising me when he spits on my pussy then rubs the saliva over the ornament. The bliss of the last twenty minutes settles in my bones, and tears prick behind my eyes.
“I can’t—” I beg.
It’s too much.
I’m too tired. Too exhausted to do anything else.
Finn drops the ornament to the ground, and it shatters to pieces. He scoops me in his arms and changes our positions, sitting in the chair and cradling me in his arms.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “You’re okay.”
Bone-deep exhaustion racks my body, and a sob sneaks out of me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why?—”
“Lots of stimulation. Not enough sleep. It’s my fault. I should’ve?—”
“You’ve been perfect,” I blurt, because he has been. My one-night stands have never been so mindful or satisfying, and I want him to know that. “I just need a minute.”
“Take all the minutes you need.” Finn kisses my forehead and peels my sweat-soaked hair away from my skin. “I’m here when you’re ready.”
“You’re pretty great, you know.” I close my eyes and snuggle into him, the hint of that peppermint I tasted last night lingering this morning. “Thank you.”
“Thank you .” His fingers dance down my spine and I sigh, content and worn out. “Wish I could wrap you up with a bow and put you under my tree.”
“Maybe we’ll run into each other next year at a different bar.”
“Maybe we will.” He stands and walks us to the door. “Ready for a bath?”
“You spoil me.” My eyes flutter closed, and I’m half asleep as he heads down the hall. “A very, very nice guy.”
His laugh is warm and rich. It’s a sound I’d like to commit to memory to remember how good this entire experience has been.“’Tis the season for nice guys, Margo Andrews.”