Chapter 14 #2
Closer wins out when he cants his hips and shifts his thigh between mine.
With a happy sigh, I lean into him. My lips touch the smooth curve where his neck meets his shoulder. He smells delicious, clean like soap, and spicy like sex and pheromones. The fragrance of Finn goes straight to my head and makes it light, while the rest of me becomes heavy and hot.
I lick that curve, and he grunts—a breath of sound. His grip on my breast tightens a fraction.
Smiling, I tug the button of his jeans, and they pop open. Finn goes utterly still.
He’s fairly humming now, he’s so tight.
Delicious. I want to eat him up.
My hand slides under the waistband of his boxer briefs. His cock rises to meet me, fever-hot, silky-smooth. He’s so hard he
pulses. I give him a long, easy stroke.
Finn’s breath comes out in quick, light gusts. He’s shaking now, but he barely moves, as I quietly jack his cock. Up and down,
squeezing just a bit at the tip. Finn’s free arm snakes beneath me and gathers me closer.
We’re wound together, my face tucked in the warm hollow of his neck, my hand stroking his dick, as he plucks and toys with
my nipple. He can’t do more. We can’t move too much without being noticed. The huge muscle of his thigh, notched between my
legs, flexes rhythmically in a maddening push-release against my clit.
Trembling, he rocks his hips, slowly fucking himself in my grasp. I run my thumb over his crown, tease the ridge of the wide
head. The tremors increase. I don’t know who is shaking harder now. I could come like this. But I want his release more. Straining
against him, I find the sensitive skin at his neck and suckle it, as my grip tightens on his dick.
The sound he makes is tortured, almost a whimper, and then he jerks so hard, I nearly lose hold of him. Wet heat spills over
my fingers. We both shudder then, gasping as he works through his orgasm.
Finn sags against me, his breath stilted and damp on my neck.
The world around us returns—the loud explosions on the screen, the reflective lights of the movie flickering over Finn’s skin.
As if coming out of a deep sleep, Finn blinks at me, his lashes fluttering. His gaze clears, zeroing in on me with a force
that makes my breath hitch.
Watching me, he takes my hand and wipes it clean on his shirt. I am a twisted woman because part of me wants to tug my hand
free and taste him on my fingers.
I don’t know what he sees in my gaze, but his nostrils flare. His lips barely move, his voice so low only I can hear it. “Bedroom.
Now. Or I take you here.”
I move like water, rising up and flowing to my feet. My limbs don’t feel like my own anymore. Somehow he’s claimed them, and
I’m left this throbbing mass of need. My nipples are so stiff they hurt. I need him to pinch them harder, put his mouth on
them and suck . . .
Blood rushes in my ears, and distantly I hear myself saying good-night to Glenn and Emily. Emily is asleep.
Glenn waves me off without looking back.
I know Finn is following. He’s coming for me. The knowledge is cool heat on my skin, a pulsing pressure between my legs. My
thighs clench with each step.
I don’t make it far. The darkness of the hallway closes in, and then his warm hand is there, wrapping around my arm, pivoting
me.
Silently, he presses me against the wall, one hand in my hair, the other cupping my chin. But he doesn’t kiss me. Not yet.
Our breath mingles in rasping pants, as we stare at each other in the shadows. The line of his jaw bunches. I’d think he was
angry if it wasn’t for the intense look in his eyes. As if he’s hurting.
Need.
That’s what that is. Because I feel it, too.
I lift my chin, nudging at his hand, leaning into his touch.
His thumb strokes the edge of my jaw. His voice is barely a whisper, but hard and stern. “Tell me again that I’m a bad bet.
Because I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”
Anticipation shimmers through my belly. “Prove it.”
All the tension leaves him with a breath, replaced by something more intent.
When he kisses me, it isn’t rough or impatient; it’s deep and consuming, as if he’s been given air after so much denial. Or
maybe I’m the one who feels deprived, because that first touch ignites me. Nothing compares to kissing Finn Mannus. It is
glorious, delicious. Perfect.
With a rough noise, he settles into the kiss, feeding me his tongue with easy glides, coaxing mine to play with his. And I
do, tasting, taking. I draw in a quick breath, plunge in again, working for those gruff, pained sounds he makes, as if he’s
dying and only I can save him.
I’m so attuned to him at this moment, every rapid thud of his heart against his ribs reverberates through my body. My fingers
curl into the loose fall of his shirt at his back. I’m shivering with heat, my lips swollen, my jaw aching.
As if he feels my need, his grip on my hair tightens. He takes my mouth with soft, nibbling kisses, and deep explorations.
All the while walking us toward his room.
Hands fumble behind me. He gets the door open, and then we are in the cool quiet of the bedroom. Standing in the center of
it, I watch him close the door, pull his dirty shirt off, and toss it to the side. Blue moonlight plays on his shifting muscles
as he moves. I drink in the sight, my fingers clenching with the need to touch.
Finn’s eyes gleam as he reaches out and flicks a switch. The bedside lamps turn on, and he grins, a slow curl of his lips.
The look in his eyes is predatory.
My belly does a little flip. “Afraid of the dark, are we?”
He takes a step farther into the room. He looks as undone as I feel. Hair mussed and eyes glazed. “Needed to see this in full color.”
We speak in hushed tones, as if neither of us wants to break the quiet spell.
He stops close enough that I feel his warmth, see the way his pulse beats a rapid tattoo at the base of his throat. His lids
lower in lazy perusal. Softly, he traces a line down my neck, sending little shivers in his wake.
His finger hooks on the edge of my shirt and plucks it. “Take this off.” It’s a low murmur that rubs like velvet on my skin.
Holding his gaze, I pull the shirt free. Cool air buffets my skin.
Finn’s breath hitches. He stares at me without blinking, his chest lightly lifting and falling. “That first night,” he rasps,
“you were wearing a gold, silky top. I wanted to slip my hands under it, cup these perfect tits.”
The backs of his knuckles graze the side of my breast, and I twitch, moving closer. Finn makes a rough noise in his throat.
“I knew they’d be so fucking pretty, Chess.” His thumb brushes over my nipple. “I wanted to suck these juicy nipples right
there. Right there at the bar. Right through your little top.”
I sway a little.
Finn’s eyes meet mine. “Take the rest off. I want all of you.”
My hands go to the waist of my lounge pants. “You, too. Let me see you.”
Our eyes hold as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down with an impatient thrust. He’s naked before my pants touch the
floor. Then there is only us. This Finn is just for me, his cock jutting out hard and long, a little pearl of need glistening
at the tip. That big cock sways a little under its own weight as it twitches and preens for me. He grasps that beautiful dick
in his hand, giving it a light stroke.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell him.
Finn’s eyes gleam. “And you’re my fantasy come to life.”
I move to him, sliding my arms around his neck, melding my lips to his. He wraps me up in his warmth, his hard against my soft, his tongue dipping into my mouth for another taste.
Stumbling back, he takes me with him, his mouth never leaving mine. He lays me down on the cool bed, kissing his way along
my neck. Big hands glide over my skin like a dream, slow, soft.
I squirm as he licks his way down my breast, seeking the tender bud of my nipple.
All that time on the couch, he played with me there, working me up, getting me so sensitive, the slightest touch now is almost
too much.
Finn knows this. It’s there in the way he looks at me from beneath his lowered lids, all covetous and hot like he’s planning
illicit things. “So fucking gorgeous.”
He goes at my poor, stiff nipple with short, leisurely licks, testing my flavor, getting himself acquainted with my textures.
Just enough pressure to make me feel it, to want more.
A satisfied hum from his lips buzzes straight down to my clit. I can’t take it.
“Will you . . . ?” I swallow convulsively, my body jerking as he gives my sensitive flesh a little kiss.
“What?” he whispers, idly dragging the flat of his tongue over my nipple again.
“Suck it,” I rasp. “Please. It aches so bad.”
A groan tears out of him, almost pained. He cups my breast in his big hand, plumping my flesh up for his pleasure. The first
wet pull of his mouth has me biting back a whimper. My back arches off the bed, but he holds me fast, sucks me with rhythmic
tugs.
“Finn.” My voice is thready, desperate. “Please. Suck them.”
He mutters hot, frantic words, his breath coming quicker. His mouth moves to my other nipple. Teeth nip, and then the wet
glide of his tongue before he sucks. It feels so good, I’m going to melt into a puddle of heat.
My hips rock against the bed as I whine, needing more.
“Shhhh.” He kisses my nipple gently. “You don’t want to wake my parents.”
That sly whisper goes straight to my core. We shiver, sharing the illicit fantasy of pretending we might get caught. It makes
everything more intense. The room seems darker, his skin on mine hotter.
Slow, lazy kisses pepper over my chest, as clever fingers drift down my trembling belly. His fingers are thick and long, and
by the time he gently slides them over the swollen bud of my clit, I nearly come.
Finn rubs his cheek against my breast, his fingertip tracing the opening of my sex. “I want to fuck you now.”
I think I whimper. My hands claw at his shoulder, the back of his head. I need him closer.