Chapter 26 #2
I don’t know whether Finn understands that I’m saying goodbye.
He has yet to misread me. Maybe it’s shared understanding guiding us, but when we fall back together, there’s no hesitation.
I’m driven by pain and desperate hopelessness, the weight of all I’m losing by losing him.
Maybe Finn feels the same, because he dives into the kiss with unbridled intensity.
As if he knows it will be our last night together.
I pull him back onto the bed. I can’t get close enough, once again. His hands move everywhere: in my hair, down my back, testing every curve. Our breathing gets heavier. It’s not enough.
“I need…” Finn swallows, pulling shakily away from me. “I need you to tell me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” I kiss him more fiercely.
He returns my kiss. At first. His hands rise, tracing up my stomach, moving higher, and then he pulls back again, groaning. “No. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Why?”
“It’s not fair to you.”
“Why?” My hands move over his chest, then slip lower. Finding what I want.
He hisses through gritted teeth. I bring my lips to Finn’s throat, finding the hollow part between his shoulder and his neck. It takes great effort for him to ask, “Have you ever? Before?”
I draw back slowly and shake my head. “Is that a problem?”
“No!” he says quickly. “No. I just…I want you to be sure. I don’t want you do anything you’re going to regret.”
“Do you think we’ll regret it?”
“I won’t,” Finn says. He’s warring with something. “But it’s not my first time.”
“I understand that.”
“And you don’t care?”
I try to reassure him. “Isn’t it better that one of us knows what we’re doing?”
He laughs. “I suppose.”
I lean in to him again. His lips find mine, and he kisses me fiercely. We move so I’m straddling him. He brushes the hair back from my face, finding my ears—outlining their pointed tips under my silken kerchief.
He pauses. “May I?”
I nod silently, and he gently pulls the scarf off. I watch him, breathing steadily, as he traces their shape. “Beautiful,” Finn murmurs. Then he leans in and kisses them.
The sensation sets my body aflame. Then it’s his turn to kiss a trail down my throat and over my shoulders. His hands run a line up and down my spine. “I just…I want this to be perfect for you,” Finn says roughly, finding a breath.
“It will be,” I assure him, kissing him again.
“It…it isn’t, for most,” he manages.
I’m surprised by the nervous edge in his voice. It’s enough to make me pause, reaching up to take his face between my hands.
“I don’t care if it’s perfect,” I whisper. “I just want it to be with you.”
I mean it.
Those words seem to be the permission he needs. In one smooth motion, Finn flips me onto my back. I expect him to move over me. But instead he pulls away, and those callused hands encircle my ankles. Then they start sliding up my calves, then my thighs…
“What are you doing?” I ask, sounding breathy.
“Something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.”
I feel vulnerable like this, swept away by the same self-consciousness that characterized our first conversations. The shyness fades into the background as he dips his head and kisses near my ankle.
My stomach vaults. I’ve imagined this many ways, but not…this way.
His lips are soft enough to make me shiver.
I reach out and drag my fingers through his dark hair.
Finn pauses, craning to kiss my wrist; then he returns to my legs, with another brush on my thigh, as soft as the flap of a butterfly wing.
He moves to the opposite leg, drawing lazy circles with his lips and tongue.
“Finn…” I say roughly.
He pauses, lips a breath from my skin. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” I say emphatically.
“Are you sure?” He smirks, kissing me again.
“Yes.” I swallow, trembling and flushed. I’ve decided I am going to face the fear. This is what I want. What I need to experience with Finn, even once.
“So you don’t want me to stop?” Another smirk. Another kiss, higher this time.
I shake my head, whimpering. I’m flooded with conflicted emotions, apprehension mingling with desire.
My Talent burns all over like wildfyre. Rising above all other emotions is the love I feel for Finn: the adamant, all-consuming devotion.
I want him to have this moment with me. I want to take it.
So I don’t say no when Finn finally stops exactly where I want him.
I find myself repeating his name, something between a plea and a prayer.
More. I want more. I need more. I might be begging for it, but he just chuckles against me and keeps working, guiding me toward some unknown conclusion.
He’s relentless, pausing every so often to meet my gaze and smirk his enjoyment.
Those emerald eyes track every movement I make, every twitch, every involuntary gasp.
I can’t hold this much pleasure and I might shatter trying to contain it.
And that’s exactly what happens.
When Finn finally draws back, I’m limp and tingling. It’s all I can do to breathe and breathe, watching him sit up and grin at me, my prince, this son of Verdinae, the picture of a conquering warrior. My miracle.
“How was that?” Finn asks, panting.
I just reach for him. He fulfills the silent request, drawing me close. I curl into his body, pressing against the hard lines of muscle, and lay my head on his chest. Finn’s heart is pounding, keeping tempo with mine. I take a deep breath, savoring each of my singing senses.
Eventually, I sit up.
“So that was okay?” he says.
I nod my affirmation. I’m not sure I have ever loved him more than in this moment: the way he’s gazing at me expectantly, searching for my approval, his measured breaths.
He’s wound so taut, he’s almost trembling.
And I understand why. He is attuned to me like no one has ever been, wholly intent on my happiness and pleasure.
It’s my turn to make him speechless. As I crawl on top, he’s watching me like I’m a predator and he’s afraid of making any sudden movements. My hair tumbles around my face, forming a dark curtain. He helps guide my hips. As we move together, I realize Finn was wrong about at least one thing.
It is perfect.