Chapter 18
Finn
Iwake up with something stroking my wing. It’s so light it tickles, and I twitch, the sensations running through my whole body. I crack open one eye to see Cassidy, curiously stroking over the thin underside of my wing.
“It’s almost see-through in the sunlight,” she muses, clearly having noticed I’m awake. “It’s beautiful.”
My throat feels tight. “Thank you.”
Last night, Cassidy was worried I wouldn’t want her because she’s human, and maybe I had in the back of my mind a worry that she wouldn’t want me because I’m a gargoyle.
I know I look different to what a human is used to, what their mind is trained to expect.
But the way she stares at the thin skin of my wing, the way she won’t stop touching, settles any reservations I may have had.
I clear my throat when she doesn’t stop. “Cassidy,” I warn, my voice rough with sleep, “I told you my wings are sensitive.”
“You did,” she agrees, but doesn’t stop touching. When I don’t say anything else, too busy fighting for my life over here, she pauses and glances at me. “It doesn’t hurt, right?”
“Hurt’s not the word I’d use.” I’m naked. She can look down and see exactly what it does to me.
To be fair, it’s not only her fingers on my wing. It’s waking up with her under my wing and protection, completely naked, warm from sleep and pressed up against me. That’s enough to make a man lose his mind.
I don’t say anything, though. Last night, she clearly needed something other than sex, no matter what kind of front she put on. I’m more than happy with where we’re at. I don’t need to push for more.
Cassidy didn’t get that memo, though. She looks up at me, smirking slightly. “You’ll have to tell me what I can do,” she murmurs. “I’m tempted to push you onto your back and straddle you, but I don’t want to hurt your wings.”
It takes me a second to process that as all the blood in my body rushes to my cock. “Oh, I—fuck,” I manage to say, oh-so-eloquently. “Give me a moment.”
Pushing me onto my back would cause my other wing to bend the wrong way, so I sit up and re-settle myself on my back for her without crushing my wing.
I can’t lie this way for long, but if she wants to straddle me?
Fuck it, I’m there. A little cramping in my wing muscles is absolutely a cost I’ll pay.
True to her word, Cassidy straddles my hips and I look up at her like the work of art she is. Her hair is still sleep-mussed. She must do something during the day to tame it, because right now, it’s a frizzy halo, and I want to touch it. I want to watch her. I want to worship her.
“Sorry I fell asleep early last night,” she says.
“I’m not,” I tell her immediately. “We needed to talk, baby. I’m glad we did.”
She gives me a shy smile. “Me too. But now—you promised me the night wasn’t over, and I figure, better late than never, right?”
I trace along her hips, fingers pressing into her flesh, watching it dent under my hands. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.
“Believe me,” I say, my voice coming out hoarse as I watch my hands on her, “any time with you is a good time. I don’t really care about when, you know? Just you.”
She leans forward, that hair coming down like a curtain around us. Her breasts brush my chest, and I groan. She presses the lightest kiss to my lips. “Smooth-talker,” she accuses again.
“All truth,” I promise her. My hands slide up from her hips, spanning her waist, moving toward her breasts, still going slow. I’m pretty positive I know where this is headed, but I’m waiting for confirmation from her.
She wiggles, and then her mouth is level with my neck. I’m about to ask what she wants, and then she bites me, sharp little teeth digging into my skin.
I groan, “Fuck, Cassidy.”
She picks up her head and grins at me. “That’s the idea, Finn. You up for that?”
She’s a menace to society. “Is that what you’re after, wife?”
“About time we actually consummated our marriage, hm?” she asks. “People might suspect we’re faking it otherwise.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” I agree. My hands find her breasts, cupping them and kneading her soft skin. “Were you married to this idea of being on top?” I’ll stay perfectly still if it’s what she wants, but I desperately want to take her apart.
“What’d you have in mind?” she groans, arching into my hands.
“Glad you asked.” I sit up, gripping her waist so I can lift her and put her on her back. Then I turn so I can hover over her, wings flaring out behind me. “Remember what I said last night?”
“You said a lot of things last night.”
“I told you that I want to take care of you. For you not to worry about a thing and let me make you feel so damn good. You like that idea?”
Her breath catches in the most gratifying, sexy way. “Yes.”
I dip closer so I can run my nose along her jaw. “Good, wife,” I croon. “You let your husband take care of you for a bit.” Her whimper goes straight to my cock. “You have nothing to worry about, nothing to do. Just feel for me,” I continue.
“Alright.” Her voice is shaky now, already too turned on to keep her collected facade together.
Here, she’s not anyone’s employee, anyone’s caretaker.
She doesn’t have to be Georgia’s role model or the perfect human to please the town.
She’s just mine. My wife. My Cassidy, who deserves to feel so fucking good.
I slide a finger into her pussy. “Oh, you’re so wet for me already,” I tell her, like she could possibly not know. “So fucking wet. It’s gorgeous. Love how you’re dripping for your husband. And I haven’t even started yet. Going to make you gush for me.”
“Finn—” She digs her heels into the bed so she can push a little closer to me. For the most part, I ignore it, but I do shift so I’m kneeling between her legs, able to pin her hips with my free hand.
“You don’t have to chase anything,” I murmur. “If you want something specific, tell me to do it. But otherwise, I’ll get you there. And I’ll make it so. Damned. Good.” I punctuate my last word by sliding a second finger in, and she looks so damn pretty when her mouth falls open with a silent gasp.
“So full,” she breathes.
“I know,” I coo, softly sympathetic but not willing to stop unless she tells me to.
She’s so hot and tight around my fingers, her perfect pussy choking them in a way that makes me never want to pull out.
“You’re so fucking small, wifey, hm? So little in my arms. But don’t worry; you’re going to take all of me.
Let me open up that pretty pussy for my cock. ”
She shivers, mouth dropping open, eyes hazy in a way that shows me I’ve finally broken through the barriers she keeps around herself. She’s no longer in control; she doesn’t have to be and she knows it. She can relax and enjoy it.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I continue. “Letting yourself feel, such a good fucking girl for me, aren’t you? Letting me make you feel good.”
“Finn—”
“Who am I?” I interrupt, thrusting my fingers with a little more emphasis. “Who am I to you? Who’s opening you for his cock?”
“Finn—” she mewls again, then catches on to what I’m after. “Husband—”
“Good fucking job, baby,” I praise, and I pull my fingers free.
She’s so fucking delicious beneath me, flushed and heavy-eyed, wanting more.
Needing it, maybe. I line up my cock, wrapping her legs around my waist, and then I push in slowly, watching her face the entire time as Cassidy gives into her feelings and lets go.
I lean forward, gently holding her wrists down while I feed my cock into her.
“Please,” she whimpers, and I stop. She protests at that. “Please,” she repeats.
“Okay, baby. Here. Give me a second.” A decade, I remind myself slowly. It’s been a decade for her. And I imagine I’m a lot bigger than the human college student she was presumably last with. I need to be careful.
“You okay?” I ask her, softening my voice as her face changes while her body gets used to me. I’m only a couple inches inside of her, holding myself back until she’s ready for more.
“You’re so damned big,” she gasps, and I don’t know if it’s a compliment or a complaint.
“I know.” More accurately, she’s so damned small, but I’m not going to argue semantics. “You’re opening so pretty for me. Look at you, taking your husband. Can you take a little more?”
She nods, but her face tightens when I give her another few inches. “Finn—”
I stop. “Breathe, baby. It’s going to be fine. You’re made to take my cock. My cock is made to stretch your perfect pussy. Deep breath.”
She does as I ask, watching me with a vibrant stare as I slowly push the rest of the way in, giving her time to adjust. She makes little gasping sounds, and they start off making me nervous, but by the time I’m most of the way in, they’ve changed to sounds of pleasure.
When I’ve bottomed out inside her, I watch her face, looking for any signs of pain, but all I find is delirious pleasure.
“You feel good, baby?” I ask. “Like having your husband’s hard cock stretching you out, hm?
Is that good for you, me stretching you open more than you thought possible? Me stuffing you full?”
She nods slowly, and I take a moment to gather her wrists in one hand, holding them over her head. “Good girl,” I tell her. “Hold on for the ride, baby. I’ll make you feel so damn good.”
I give an experimental thrust to see what she can take, and she moans my name in a way that’s so hot, so sinfully seductive, I didn’t even know it was possible.
I want to cause her to make that noise again.
It becomes my mission, fucking her long and slow, decadently deep inside her hot, tight pussy.
“You feel so good around me, so fucking perfect,” I tell her, willing myself to hold out. I came way faster than I’d have liked last night, and I’m determined to put on a better show today. I want to watch her come again, need to see her break apart with her pleasure.
Her wrists twitch in my hand, and I let go immediately, thinking she’s trying to get free.
But no—the second she’s free, she grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers, and my hips stutter at how sweet that is.
“You like that?” I ask rhetorically. Her eyes are big and wet and needy, her mouth fallen open on a gasp that can’t quite escape.
She isn’t loud, and I momentarily wonder what I’ll have to do to make her scream, but then her pussy clenches around me, driving any thoughts straight from my mind.
I can’t tell if she’s doing it on purpose or not, but it’s like everything about her is designed to drag me right over the edge of sanity. I can’t function with her around. I don’t want to function—I want to fill her and hold her and make her come. I was made to bring this woman pleasure.
“Come for me, baby,” I plead. I’m so close, a hair’s breadth away from coming, but not until she does first.
She rolls her hips experimentally, and then her mouth falls open wider. “Yeah?” I ask her, making sure to maintain exactly that angle. “You like that? Is this good for you, wife? Is this what you need?”
“Finn—” Her voice is barely a gasp, a breath of air that’d vanish forever if I wasn’t so intent on her.
“Let your husband make you come, baby. Give into it—let yourself feel good.”
She calls out my name again, and then she comes, her pussy squeezing around me while her pretty eyes slip closed and the sweetest moans slip out of her mouth.
She sounds so fucking pretty like this, falling apart for me, her husband. And yes, this is it—this is what I want for the rest of my life.
I have the presence of mind to pull out of her, shooting my come all over her stomach. My cock hates leaving her sweet, warm heat, but just because we talked about the idea of children doesn’t mean we should start right now.
I look down at her, and my breath catches at the sight of her, rung out, a little sweaty, and absolutely fucking perfect.