Chapter 24
Finn kneels in front of me and places his hands on my knees. Tears stain my cheeks and congeal in my throat, and I hurt so much I can hardly move. He squeezes lightly until I look at him.
“You took away their pain.” He smiles from beneath his mask. “You did good, Alana. You did a good thing.”
“But it hurts so much.” I press my fingers to my temples. I feel like my skull might explode.
“So, now let me help you.” He stands and cradles my face in his hands, brushing my tears with his thumbs.
Finn’s touch is gentle, like the flutter of a moth’s wings against my skin. I close my eyes and let myself lean into his warmth, seeking solace in the darkness behind my eyelids. When I open them again, his eyes bore into mine with such intensity that it feels like he’s peering into the very depths of my soul.
“I can make it stop hurting, Alana,” he whispers. “The way you did for them.”
I nod wordlessly. I would do anything not to feel like this anymore.
Finn moves away from me, and heads for the curtains. I watch, confused, as he unfastens the large rope ties that hold them back and, instead, winds them around his hands.
The dim light casts elongated shadows across the room, and suddenly, everything about the way he is moving seems different. Darker. More forbidden.
“I’m going to teach you how to bind my wings,” Finn says, his voice low and hypnotic. “And then you can do whatever you like with me. I’ll be yours. You’ll have all the power. You can use me until you don’t hurt anymore.”
His words seep into my skin and send shivers of anticipation through my veins.
I watch as he unfurls the rope, its fibres rough against my skin as he places it in my hands. My fingers tremble slightly as I take hold of it, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest.
He kneels in front of me and stretches out his wings. “Press them against my body.”
I do as he says, and although he’s the one teaching me, I am the one with the power.
I feel it, and I see it in his eyes.
“Curl them tightly around my arms.” He winces as I follow his instructions, enjoying the sensation of manipulating his body with my hands. “Now, the rope.”
With each movement, each twist and knot he shows me, each jerk of tension that makes him groan, I feel more powerful. And less broken.
As the last knot is secured, Finn looks up at me. His wings are wrapped tightly around his body, pressing his arms at his sides. He can move his legs, but not his torso.
Reaching down, I take the piece of rope that hangs between his arms and secure his wrists, too. His eyes widen as I do so, and he dips his head in submission.
The air in the room grows thick with tension.
I know what I’m going to do next.
Sliding my hands down the side of his face to his neck, I can feel his pulse thrumming beneath my fingertips, a steady rhythm that matches the pounding of my own heart. I tighten my grip on his throat, and watch as he closes his eyes and gives into me.
When I stop, he opens them again and I see a flicker of something primal that matches the hunger in my core.
Roughly, I push him back against the cold stone floor. He untucks his legs from beneath him and lies there, bound for me, offered up for my pleasure.
I straddle his waist and slide my hands up his chest, over the knots, and the fragile veins of his wings. I stroke the piercings on his tips, and sigh as they chime gently for me. Then I reach for his mask.
Finn inhales sharply, and flinches.
“You are mine,” I whisper. “And I want to see your face.”
He says nothing in response, just closes his eyes and remains completely still while I unfasten it and lift it free.
In the flickering orange light of the chamber, his face is everything I thought it would be. His jaw is strong and firm, and his cheekbones are, too. I stroke his features slowly and carefully, as if I’m trying to learn every inch of him by heart.
When I reach the mottled scar on his cheek, and stroke it with my thumb, he releases a low humming sound and turns his face away from me.
I bring it back, then lower my lips to his skin and try to kiss away whatever memory haunts him.
At first, Finn resists, but then his body arches beneath mine and I explore every inch of him with a hunger that borders on obsession.
I remove his pants, and toss them aside.
The taste of salt and sweat graces my tongue as I move my way up his bare legs towards his cock.
But I don’t touch him there. Not yet.
I play with him, using my lips and my hands to claim him.
Finally, thrusting my mouth onto his shaft, I fill myself until my eyes water and he groans loudly. I sit back, smiling.
I am not doing this to give him pleasure; this is for me, and he is letting me take what I need.
Again, I take him in my mouth. And again, and again.
I bring him to the edge of an orgasm, and then let it fade away. And when he can’t take any more, I lower myself onto him, grip him with my thighs, and let him thrust up into me until he explodes.
With his come dripping from my pussy, I move to his lips. “Can you taste yourself?” I whisper.
He moans into my clit.
“Do you taste good?”
He laps and circles and groans.
I scrape my fingers through my hair and arch my back. My body coils tightly, pressure building. I lean back and tug the rope that holds his wings in place, and the sound he makes finally sends me over the edge.
Fire explodes beneath my skin. My wings flutter violently.
As it subsides, and I return to my body, I realise he was right; some of the hurt has gone. And it has been replaced by strength.