26. Surrender #4
“I thought… I convinced myself that what I felt was one-sided. That I was foolish to think you’d ever look at me the way I look at you,” I manage, my voice trembling with the weight of my admission.
He lets out the slightest laugh, a soft, muffled sound that somehow makes my heart flutter and ache all at once.
With Finn… there’s no hesitation, no fear, only an ache that consumes me, a longing so deep it feels like it’s always been there, waiting for him.
This moment feels inevitable, as if the world itself conspired to bring us here.
I won’t stop it—not this time, not with him.
Not when his touch feels like salvation.
His lips graze my neck, each kiss sending chills over me, stealing my breath. “I wouldnae wish this torment on anyone… Ye’d drive a man mad and straight off a cliff, Triona. Ye’re drivin’ me mad, challengin’ me every chance you get. ”
His words make my head spin, but I move closer, needing the contact, the heat of him. His hands shift, one sliding to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing against my skin, the other pressing firmly at the small of my back, holding me to him.
I press closer, feeling the friction, the undeniable proof of his desire. He hisses, the sound rough and ragged, and I revel in the power I seem to have over him.
I tilt my head up, my eyes locked on his, refusing to tear my gaze away as the tension between us swells. “Tell me, Finn,” I whisper, tilting my head, letting my lips hover just out of reach. “Would you really stand by while another man claims me?”
I press into him again, daring him, testing the limits of his restraint. “Could you handle it, Finn?” I ask, my voice dropping to a sultry murmur. “Could you handle another man laying claim to me?”
I can’t hide my taunting look. I want to rile him up. Some, albeit childish, part of me delights in seeing the side of him that only I bear witness to.
In truth, I want to give in. I want Finn to dominate me completely. I’m ready for him to take what he wants.
“I want no other man to have you,” Finn growls, his voice low but fierce, each word vibrating with raw intensity. “I want all of you. I want my scent so profoundly embedded in you that, even in my absence, they’d scent my claim on every part of you I’ve touched.”
His words send a shiver racing down my spine, the possessiveness igniting a fire in me I can’t ignore.
His hand releases my hair, the tension easing only for him to slide his hands down to my waist. His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on my stomach, a tenderness that contrasts with the rough edge of his voice and the hunger in his touch.
The contradiction only heightens the need building inside me, making every nerve feel alive under his fingertips.
For a moment, he doesn’t move, the tension between us sharp enough to cut. Then, slowly, he presses his forehead to mine. “If I give in now—” he rasps, his breath ragged. “I’ll take you apart, piece by piece, and I won’t stop until ye’re ruined for me.”
I press until I’m a whisper away from his lips. “Then ruin me, Finn.”
His hands move with sure and steady intent, gripping my rear possessively as he grinds into me. The contact sends a jolt through me, igniting the ache already pooling deep inside.
And then, at last, he claims me .
Finn crashes his mouth to mine, a groan tearing from his chest like it’s been caged for years.
It reverberates through me—through skin, through bone—until I feel it in the deepest parts of me, where longing has lived in silence.
His kiss is not careful. It’s consuming.
Devouring. A beautiful ruin. He kisses like he’s starving and terrified this might be the only taste he’ll ever get.
The first touch of his lips is indescribable. I press closer, needing more, needing him. His tongue brushes the seam of my mouth, seeking entrance not with aggression, but with an aching urgency that makes me dizzy.
My hands tangle in his hair, desperate to anchor myself.
With a low, broken sound, he lifts me like I weigh nothing at all.
Instinct takes over—I wrap my legs around his waist, our bodies aligning in a way that leaves no air, no reason between us.
I chase the contact I’ve craved for so long, desperate for the connection, overwhelming all rational thinking.
With ruthless determination, he presses my back against the wall, the cool stone biting through the fabric of my dress—a stark contrast to the searing heat of his body against mine
He shifts against me, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate grind, eliciting a loud moan from deep within me.
The pressure is unbearable, exquisite—his need meeting mine in a rhythm that makes the world fall away.
A moan builds in my throat, raw and desperate, but before the sound escapes, his hand gently covers my mouth.
His eyes find mine, burning with something feral and protective, as if to remind me we’re not alone. But the danger, the sheer risk of it, only fuels the fire.
Nothing matters but this—him and I, tangled in the heat of our desire.
He lowers his hand from my mouth, fingers trailing down my jaw. One arm braces beside my head, the other wraps tight around my waist, anchoring me to him, to this.
I can feel him—hard, ready—pressing against my centre with a pressure that sends shockwaves through my core. My breath stutters, caught between desire and disbelief.
His gaze drops between us, and something shifts—a quiet, dangerous certainty. When his eyes meet mine again, they burn with a promise.
“Triona,” he mutters, brogue thick with desire, “are you bare under yer dress?”
“Aye.” I breathe, the word a sultry whisper.
“By all the gods, you’re drenched for me,” he rasps, his statement a sinful praise .
His hand glides lower, following the dip of my waist, his fingers barely ghosting over my skin. Each slow inch is deliberate, a silent plea for permission. His eyes burn into mine, waiting—demanding.
The instant his thumb grazes that aching bundle of nerves, pleasure sears through me. My body jolts, arching against him, chasing the friction I crave.
I am absolutely crazed for this man.
His touch is consuming every inch of my being. There is only his mouth, his tongue, his eager hands, and the strength of his well-sculpted and taut body pressing against me.
I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, and he eagerly grants me access. It feels as if I know every part of his body without ever having touched him before; every movement feels instinctual.
“Triona,” Finn groans, in a voice unlike his own, but one I know I’d beg to hear again. He thrusts his hips between mine with unparalleled fervour as I continue to writhe and lose all sense of control. His arms flex with each powerful movement as he continues massaging my centre.
I’m a mix of urgency and lust; I don’t want the moment to end, but feel a throbbing forming under the pressure of our combined movements.
Finn pulls away, tugging a moan from me to look me in the eye.
“Have you done this to yerself before?” He demands between his heavy moans. His movements slowing as he awaits my answer.
I nod, and the relief on his face is immediate as his pace quickens.
His tongue traces delicately along the column of my neck, drawing out soft whimpers as he moves, finally settling just below my ear—the spot that makes me clench against him. I can feel his grin in the way his breath tickles my skin.
“Like that, aye?” he murmurs, right before mimicking the motion once more.
“Finn…” is all I manage to gasp as my back arches off the wall.
“That’s it. Let go, Triona. Let go and give your pleasure over to me.”
Beads of sweat trickle down my skin, their cool trail contrasting with the scorching heat that radiates through my entire body.
Then it happens—the build of the unmistakable release his body promises, a sensation so overwhelming it feels as though the world vanishes. My body shudders, the intensity consuming me entirely .
It’s the most intensely pleasurable sensation I’ve ever experienced, and I feel it everywhere—coursing through my veins, leaving me weightless.
I grip him tightly, my nails pressing into him as I ride the crest of this overwhelming feeling, every thought, every word dissolving into the sheer bliss of this moment.
Finn never moves his eyes from mine as he watches my undoing, only taking my mouth again to stifle the moan I’m helpless to suppress, and growls in satisfaction as an undeniable wetness coats him.
My body aches with need, still so desperate to feel him—flesh against flesh, every bit of him claiming me. I want to feel him pushing deeper, his body overwhelming mine as he licks, sucks, and possesses me completely.
I eagerly wedge my hand between us, seizing the narrow space he’s allowed. The moment I cup him through his damp trousers, he emits a long, low groan that sends a shiver down my spine—and makes my mouth water with anticipation.
I grapple with the laces coated in my arousal, but he jerks away, halting my desperate movements.
“Not here. Yer first willnae be against a wall,” he says adamantly. “We need to—”
I cut him off with a searing kiss. I won’t be swayed from claiming him the way he just irrevocably claimed me. I need his release.
I lock eyes with him as I trace the heel of my palm along the full length of his thick shaft, following its smooth contour until I reach his tip, resting just beneath his navel.
His breath quickens, and he tilts his head back, exposing his throat in silent invitation.
Leaning forward, I let my tongue explore his sweat-slicked flesh, every caress a promise of unspoken desire.
“Triona, I’m about to—” he begins, his voice hoarse with desire, but I silence him as I suck the skin at the base of his neck.
He groans and thrusts into my hand with a strength that has me aching and imagining him buried deep inside of me.
“Oh, feckin’ hellfire,” he breathes, voice wrecked.
With one final stroke, he shudders against me, his body going taut before he unravels completely.
I feel his cock pulsing under my touch, and the guttural sound emanating as he finds release sends another wave of heat crashing through me, reigniting the ache between my thighs.
As the intensity of our embrace fades, Finn buries his face into my neck, his breaths slowing as he savours the aftershock of ecstasy. His grip on me remains tight, as if he never wants to let go .
A breathless laugh rumbles from his chest. “I cannae believe I came in my trousers like a lad fresh off his first kiss.” His voice is low, rough with embarrassment, but there’s a spark of wicked amusement in his eyes as his gaze locks with mine.
He smiles, his thumb brushing tenderly along my cheekbone before pressing the lightest of kisses to the corner of my mouth.
“You can’t possibly fathom how intoxicating you are,” I murmur, voice hushed with reverence, my fingers still trembling from the aftershocks. “Hearing the sounds you made for me...” The confession slips from my lips unbidden, the vulnerability of the moment wrapping around us.
The moonlight pouring in through the window casts a soft glow over Finn’s face, illuminating the sharp planes of his features. A sheen of sweat clings to his forehead, and his lips are swollen and red from our kisses. He is utterly mesmerising.
Reluctantly, he lowers me back to the ground, his body, lingering close, pressed against mine. Neither of us speaks, unwilling to let the fragile magic of this moment slip away.
My fingers weave into his dark hair as I tug him closer, desperate to capture his lips again. But the blissful haze shatters as the unmistakable sound of footsteps and cheerful whistling bounds toward us.
We tear away from each other like sinners caught in the act; the intimacy shattering as reality slams back into place.
My heart races in my chest, hammering so loudly I’m certain Finn can hear it.
I smooth my dress with trembling hands, the lingering heat between us making it almost impossible to compose myself.
The footsteps grow louder, closer, and panic blooms in my chest. Finn leans casually against the wall on one side of the hall, his posture deceptively relaxed. I move to the opposite side, creating a distance between us that already feels unbearable.
Casey rounds the corner, his steps uneven but sure enough. He pauses, his sharp gaze flicking between us. My breath stalls, bracing for the inevitable spark of realisation—the knowing look, the teasing remark. But it doesn’t come.
His usual perceptiveness dulls beneath the flush on his cheeks, the slight sway of his stance. He’s had more than his fair share of drink tonight. A small mercy. One I silently thank the heavens for.
“There you are, dear sister,” he says, his voice light and sing-song. He bounds toward me with the carefree energy of a boy, tapping my nose as if I were still a child .
Casey slings an arm around my shoulders, his warmth a sharp contrast to the cold guilt settling over me. “Ye’ve been missin’ all the fun,” he says with a grin, oblivious to the tension hanging thick in the air. “Come on, we’ll find something to drink.”
I nod, forcing a weak smile, but my gaze flicks back to Finn. He leans against the wall, golden eyes locking onto mine for a single aching heartbeat. Something flickers there—regret, longing, something I can’t name—but before I can breathe it in, he looks away.