Chapter 14 Rosie #2
I open my eyes again and see myself in the mirror.
Flushed skin. Glassy eyes. A wild mane of untamed hair and a hesitant hand on my breast. Knees that have fallen open without meaning to, and a thin strip of white lace wet and clinging to my pussy.
Watching myself in the reflection and wondering who this woman is, I follow the path of my hand down over my sternum and across my stomach, then spread my thighs to get a better view of my fingers slipping into my panties.
In the corner, Finn groans and drops his head back, nostrils flaring with a strained inhale, and I release my own breath with a trembling whimper. This power I have over him right now? Without touching him? Without trying? It’s everything.
“Is this what you had in mind?” I ask.
Finn keeps his head thrown back, the long line of his throat struggling to swallow and his eyes closed tight.
“You’re going to have to look at me, Finn, if you want to know how to touch me. Isn’t that what you said?”
The growl in his chest is broken and tortured, but he lifts his head and pins me with eyes that are more out of control than I’ve ever seen them. Feral and frustrated.
And I’m not scared. I’m satisfied.
“Like this,” I murmur as I pull the lace to one side and spread my legs a little wider.
I brush the tips of my fingers across my folds, coating them with my wetness, and I don’t know where to look—at myself in the mirror or Finn as still as carved stone in the corner—because both images are driving this moment from incredible to unbearable.
I drop my head back onto the pillows and close my eyes as I circle my clit, varying the pressure of my fingers.
The small, tormented grunts from Finn make me smile to myself, and I press harder, move more quickly, tilt my hips up to meet my hand.
It feels good, but not as good as riding Finn’s hard-on.
No matter how I tweak my nipple or rub my clit, the tease of my climax rises like a wave that won’t ever break, taking me closer to the edge without pushing me over.
I clench my jaw and try to focus, but I’m in my head and I can’t get out of it. My orgasm, so close just a moment ago, moves out of reach.
I glance at Finn, about to ask him what I should do next, but my eyes catch on the hard ridge in his pants, a dark spot of precum staining the cotton, and desire flares all over again.
The veins on his forearms pop with the strength it takes to keep his hands on the arms of the chair, and the hard set of his jaw, the furrow in his brow make my core clench.
I slip a finger inside myself and release a heavy, relieved breath.
“Finn?”
“Yeah?” he answers, or I think he does. His response is barely more than a moan.
“Can I see you?” I ask him, and when his head tilts with puzzlement, I nod at the hard length straining against his pants. “There. Can I see it?”
Finn rakes a hand through his hair, then grips the arms of the chair with even more force than before.
“This is about you, Songbird, and what you need. It’s not about me or what I want.”
“But what do you want?”
His nostrils flare. “I think you know what I want.”
“Oh, God.” My finger makes wet sucking sounds as I pump it in and out. “Please, Finn. I want to see you.” My breath comes faster at the idea of touching myself while Finn watches with his dick in his hand. “I can’t get there on my own. I need to see what I do to you.”
His groan is deep and pained, but he drags his thin cotton T-shirt up over his hard, inked abs, and then tucks a thumb into the waistband of his sweats. With a turn of his wrist, he drags the fabric over his swollen length, and I groan at the first sight of his thick and throbbing cock.
For the first time in my life, I want to get on my knees for a man. I want to wrap my lips around his dick, feel his fingers twist in my hair, and have my throat fucked by a god who can’t control himself around me.
I wonder if Finn would be rough with me. I wonder what he’d say if I asked.
“Stroke it,” I whisper as I slide another finger inside. “Show me how I should touch you.”
He hesitates, and I frown as he dips a hand into the pocket of his sweats. It reappears with a scrap of red lace, and it takes me a moment to recognize the panties I thought I’d lost on the dock. When I finally understand, I whimper and slip another finger inside.
“Have you been carrying those in your pocket this whole time?” I ask breathily.
Finn wraps the fabric around his hand, then lifts it to spit in his palm. He wraps his fingers around his cock and gives it a featherlight pull. I match his rhythm with a thrust of my fingers.
“What do you think?” he says, voice strained and neck tensed.
“Oh, God,” I moan, driven mad by the thought of him getting off by rubbing my panties along his cock. “Do it again,” I command, watching him between glances at the mirror where some wanton woman who can’t be me is fucking herself with her fingers.
Finn tugs again, harder and more than once, and when I match my pumps to his pace, he scrambles to push his sweatpants farther down his heavy thighs, giving him space to thrust into his fist. His thighs are hard and thick as he fucks his hand, and my body rocks and writhes as I curl my fingers inside my core and coax myself to the edge again.
But this time, with my eyes on Finn as he pumps himself to climax, thick ropes of cum shooting up over his rock-hard stomach, I topple with him, core muscles fluttering and pulsing around my fingers, wet heat exploding and dripping down my thighs, sparks of light dancing over my skin.
I come hard, eyes closed tight, pleasure racking my body until the waves recede and I’m back on the shore.
My eyes flutter open and land on Finn in the corner of the room, breathing hard and staring at me with unleashed lust.
“I think I’ve got the hang of it,” I say, sinking into the pillows with soft-muscled exhaustion.
“Understatement.” Finn shakes his head at the mess on his torso, then looks back at me with suspicion glinting in his caramel gaze. “You like being watched, don’t you, Songbird?”
“I like being watched by you,” I say.
He growls and stuffs my panties back in his pocket before dragging off his shirt and using it to wipe himself clean. He crosses the room and cups my face before brushing my lips with his.
“You put on one hell of a show,” he says.
“Thank you.” I lift my head to return his kiss. “You did pretty well yourself.”
His mouth tips up. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” I look pointedly at his pocket. “Are you going to give those back?”
He smirks and kisses me again. “Fuck no.”
I throw my arms around his neck and drag him down to the bed. He falls onto the covers beside me, and I roll against him. “That was so hot,” I say. “Now I want to know what else you can do.”
I say it lightly, but I want to know everything. Every inch of his body, every thought in his head, every dream in his heart. The music in his soul.
He chuckles quietly and kisses me again. “That’s good information to have, Songbird, because I can’t wait to show you.”