Chapter 18
Eighteen
At the touch of Finn’s mouth, Owen felt need surge against his restraint.
After all she’d been through, he did not wish to take advantage.
Even a strong woman had vulnerabilities.
When she’d described her vision of being chased by a terrifying enemy, he’d wanted to howl with rage.
Knowing what he did of her scars, he never wanted her to feel fear again.
Take care of her.
In that hidden room behind the fireplace, Rose—for he no longer doubted that it had been her spirit—had charged him with the task.
He didn’t know why, but he did know that he wanted nothing more.
He yearned to protect Finn. To take care of her.
To spend his days laughing and sparring with her and perhaps… fall in love with her.
For the first time in years, love did not feel like an impossibility.
He didn’t know if the change came from within him or if it was due to Finn.
He didn’t care that she turned his world topsy-turvy.
Or that he had questions left unanswered.
Or that they were possibly drawn together by the spirits of lovers who’d died over eighty years ago.
What mattered was how he felt when he was with her, and he decided to trust that.
Right now, Finn was kissing him with a feminine intensity that tested his self-control.
She’d clambered onto his lap, her knees bracing his hips as she plundered his mouth.
She’d shed his frock coat, and her nightgown was bunched around her hips, her pussy pressing against his rock-hard cock.
As their tongues tangled, she rubbed herself against him, her warmth seeping through his trousers.
It was too much—not enough. He had to have more of her.
Grabbing fistfuls of her nightgown, he tried to pull it over her head. In his haste, he’d forgotten to undo the buttons at the neckline, and Finn’s head got stuck in the voluminous folds. He tugged on the garment to no avail—she was well and truly trapped.
“You need to work on your undressing skills.” Her words were muffled by the flannel and her laughter. “You would never get a job as a lady’s maid.”
“Why is there so much fabric?” His attempt to find the buttons was not helped by her fit of giggles. “Hold still.”
“I c-can’t. This is too amusing. Some rake you are.”
“Who said I was a rake?”
Why are the damned buttons so small?
“Xenia. She said that while you may have acted rakishly, you were always sincere when it came to your affections.”
He freed a button. Then another.
“I was never a rake.”
“Oh, really. Then what would you call yourself?”
Feeling a third button slip free, he pulled on the nightgown again.
It slid smoothly over Finn’s head—and his breath jammed at her beauty.
She glowed with vitality, like a flower lit from within.
Her hazel eyes sparkled with mischief and mirth, and her hair was a silken cascade down her back.
While he was not possessive by nature, he wanted her all for himself. To be her shelter as she was his haven.
“Lost,” he murmured.
“Pardon?”
“I was lost.” He took her hand and tenderly kissed each scar, including the ones that climbed her arm. It was an act of penitence for doubting her—and one of worship for who she was. “Until you.”
He saw her pupils dilate, the nervous way she bit her lip.
Truth be told, his own heart was pounding.
It wasn’t terror he felt but recognition—and he reckoned she felt it too.
Reading her intent to escape, he tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her mouth to his.
Desire leapt between them like a flame. With a moan, she melted into him, and her surrender was the sweetest thing he’d ever known.
He tongued the curve of her ear while she trembled.
When he nibbled on the plump lobe, she squirmed in his lap.
“That’s right, love,” he said huskily. “Rub yourself against my cock.”
Palming the firm mounds of her bottom, he worked her against him as he licked the delicate tendon of her neck and the hollow of her throat.
He couldn’t resist leaving his mark, a tender bite below her collarbone.
She didn’t seem to notice as she gyrated against his turgid length and soaked him with her dew.
He cupped her breasts, savoring their heft and bounty.
She tipped her head back, moaning as he played with her nipples.
“I want you to come for me,” he said. “Like the last time I sucked your pretty breasts.”
He strummed her nipples while tracing her succulent curves with his tongue.
When he grazed her tender bud with his teeth, she arched her back.
He lapped and laved and swirled, layering on sensations.
Sealing his lips around one swollen peak, he drew upon it while giving the other nipple a sharp pinch.
“Blooming hell,” she gasped.
Her look of startled bliss aroused him beyond bearing, as did the warm gush against his wool-covered erection.
He held her through her tremors. Afterward, she melted into him like a sleepy kitten, her head tucked in the crook of his neck.
Amused, he stroked her back, enjoying how sweet she was in the aftermath even as he fought to contain his own raging arousal.
“Owen?” she murmured.
He thought she’d fallen asleep. “Hmm?”
“Why are you still dressed?”
At the catch of laughter in her voice, he narrowed his eyes.
She sat up and gave him the sultry smile that always hit him in the prick.
“You didn’t think I was done, did you?”
He refrained from rolling his eyes. “You seemed rather relaxed.”
“Thanks to you. That was lovely, and now it’s your turn. Off with your clothes, sir.”
She slid off his lap as she issued the cheeky order. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he began undressing while she lounged like an indolent goddess on the sofa. He was far from prudish, but he felt his face heat as she eyed him like he was some decadent treat.
“Are you blushing?” She sounded delighted.
“No.”
He finished unbuttoning his shirt, balled it up, and tossed it at her.
She caught it—of course she did—and said, “Your trousers next.”
Christ, this woman. Her cheerful assertiveness strained the front of his trousers. It was no easy task to work the buttons free; the instant they gave, his cock sprang free.
He waved at his bobbing member. “Satisfied?”
“Not yet.”
The way she wetted her lips sent heat blazing through his veins. Then she reached out, gripping him by the cock. He hissed out a breath as she ran her fist along his length.
“But I intend to be,” she said.
“You enjoy driving me mad, don’t you?” Owen said raggedly.
You have no idea.
“Perhaps a little,” she said coyly.
She was ready to be playful. His tenderness as he’d kissed her scars had unraveled her.
It made her shaky to think about it, so she focused instead on the matter at hand—literally.
Between her palms, his cock was a fleshy spear, hard and long and ready for action.
Her fingers barely fit around his throbbing maleness.
As she pumped him slowly from base to tip, he made a sound low in his throat.
“More than a little, I think.” He watched her stroke his thick, veined length with avid eyes. “I think it arouses you to have such power over me.”
He was ridiculously attractive, this lord of hers, and not only physically. He understood her. Unlike Jimmy, he wasn’t intimidated by her boldness—and seemed to like it.
“It is rather stimulating,” she said.
“What a coincidence.” His chest heaved. “So is what you’re doing.”
Lips curving, she gave his bulging head another squeeze.
She pumped him harder, faster, and he burgeoned further in her clasp.
Recalling his prior lesson, she stroked with one hand, using the other to cup his stones.
Playing with those velvety weights felt naughty indeed.
He grunted, and a drop of liquid welled upon his tip.
She eyed that quivering bead, recalling the few times she’d given in to Jimmy’s demands and serviced him orally. It had felt like a chore, and she hadn’t enjoyed it particularly. But the idea of pleasuring Owen this way inflamed her.
Leaning over, she licked his dome, purring at his salty taste.
“Bloody hell, Finn,” he groaned.
His reaction was clearly one of approval for another droplet replaced the first. Gripping his shaft, she drew her tongue over the wide head, exploring the new terrain. He bit out more curses.
She peered up at him. “Do you like it this way?”
“Does a drowning man cling to a plank?”
Smiling, she rewarded him with another kiss.
“However…”
She quirked a brow. “However?”
“I wouldn’t mind if you, ahem, deepened the kiss.”
“Show me what you like.”
He guided her to sit at the edge of the sofa, placing her palms on his thighs. He fisted his cock in one hand and slid the other into her hair. He brought the fat tip to her mouth, which pooled at his musky scent.
“Part those pretty lips for me,” he said huskily.
She did, and he pushed inside while cradling her head and holding it steady. The surrender of control was lewd—and strangely titillating. With Owen, she felt a novel yearning to please. She tried her best to accommodate him, yet his girth stretched her lips.
“Careful with your teeth, love,” he panted.
Her sound of apology was muffled by his meaty length. The weighted glide against her tongue sent quivers through her belly. His gaze was locked on hers as he began to thrust in and out. He was attuned to her every reaction, and she knew he wanted the pleasure to be shared.
And it was. Oh, how it was. Fresh dew trickled between her thighs.
“All right?” he rasped.
When she hummed her reply around his shaft, he grunted with approval. He plunged deeper, and she realized that he’d been holding back. She didn’t want him to—wanted his surrender even as she gave hers. She slid her hands to his buttocks, gripping the hard, flexing muscles, urging him on.
“Hungry for more of my cock, are you?” he growled.
When she nodded, he bucked his hips, pushing his shaft deeper.
“There you go, greedy wench. Suck me with that beautiful mouth.”
Whimpering with excitement, she did her best. She was greedy and wanted to take as much of him as she could.
She figured out how to breathe through her nose and to relax muscles that allowed him deeper access.
She succeeded so well that on the next thrust, he butted the back of her throat.
When she choked, he groaned and pulled out.
“Sorry.” He sounded winded.
She caught her own breath. “Don’t be. You are delicious.”
“Christ, Finn.”
Gripping his cock, he slowly painted her swollen lips with the tip. The gesture ought to have been filthy but was instead intimate and tender. His gaze was raw and exposed, his essence the most primal of offerings.
“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he said hoarsely.
Her heart pounded with words she couldn’t say.
So she took him between her lips again, deep into her throat, lavishing him with pleasure.
She savored the signs that he was losing control.
His fierce gaze consumed her; when he caressed her bulging cheek, feeling himself as he ravished her mouth, she shivered.
“I’m going to spend so hard for you,” he said. “But first…”
To her surprise, he pulled out, pushing her backward onto the sofa. Grabbing her hand, he shoved it between her legs—and they both groaned at how drenched she was.
“Pet that sweet pussy,” he ordered. “Do it, love. Come with me.”
His carnal command made her wild. Whimpering, she stroked her needy flesh while he towered over her, his biceps bunching as he pumped his erection.
Emboldened, she spread her legs wider, rubbing herself for him while he uttered earthy praise and frigged his huge cock.
The pressure in her belly built and built and then—
Bliss broke. She felt a shocking gush between her fingers as tremors rocked her.
An instant later, Owen shouted out, his fist flying over his engorged shaft.
He exploded with shocking force, lashing her breasts and belly with his hot spend.
His eyes glowed with proprietary heat as he wrung the last drops onto her skin.
Then he crawled atop her, kissing her thoroughly.
“Are you satisfied now?” he asked.
Breathless, she pretended to think about it. “Not yet.”
“Well. Hallelujah to that.”
He smothered her giggles with another kiss.