Chapter 30
Thirty
As Owen swept her off her feet, Finn felt a strange sense of clarity—the first she’d felt since the attack by Carver’s men.
Everything was descending into chaos, and she knew her charade could not last much longer.
She saw two paths diverging before her. She could tell Owen about her mission and hope that he would help her save Iris.
Or she and the Hawks could go at it alone and make a last desperate bid to find the treasure before Carver’s men returned.
She knew that the ruffians would come back. She understood Carver’s ruthlessness too well. He had tried to kidnap Tansy for additional leverage; failing that, he would find other ways of manipulating the Hawks, each more menacing than the next, until he got what he wanted.
There is only one way out. I must trust Owen—and believe that he will help me, even after all the lies I’ve told. I must tell him everything.
And she would—in the morning.
Right now, there were more important matters.
Owen set her on the bed. His gentle care swelled her chest. Before him, she’d believed that romantic love was a weapon, used to control and contain and cage.
Yet Owen offered the opposite. His love was a shelter, given freely and with a selflessness that humbled her.
This man had risked his life for her and Tansy.
Then he’d shut himself away to endure the cost of his valor alone.
Finn yearned to give him something of value in return.
Something that, no matter what happened, would always be a gift.
The most precious thing she had to give, and that she would only give to him—her gentle warrior who stood before her with knuckles still bruised from the battle he’d waged on her behalf.
She gazed up at him through her lashes. “I feel overdressed.”
He yanked off his nightshirt with an impatience that thrilled her.
She adored his lanky virility, his lean lines accentuated by wiry bulges of muscle and a light furring of hair.
His hair waved over his eyes, which were bright with lust and love.
Even his cock was both torrid and tender.
His shaft was hard and bulging with veins, yet the head wept a silky tear.
Scooting to the edge of the bed, she wrapped her hand around his thick rod.
“That’s much better,” she said. “I like having you entirely in my hands.”
“You stroke my cock so well, Finn. Be a good girl and play with my stones, too.”
Truth be told, Finn had never been a good girl. Never aspired to be one. Yet for some reason, his filthy command—and the casually dominant way he issued it—aroused her. In this moment, she wanted to be good for him.
“Like this?”
She cupped his sac, fondling the velvety weights.
“Just so,” he approved. “Now frig me harder.”
She pumped him with eager strokes, adding a squeeze at the tip that wrung another pearly drop. The feel of him in her hand, slippery and hard, made her nipples tingle. She wanted to feel him everywhere. Bending her head, she tried to take him into her mouth—and was stunned when he stopped her.
“Did I say you could suck my cock?” he inquired.
His lordly manner was new. She didn’t know what game they were playing, but she liked it.
“No.” Impulsively, she added, “You did not, my lord.”
“Some proper respect at last. Very well, you shall have a reward. Put your hands on my thighs and keep them there.”
At his imperious command, heat trickled between her legs. Did she wish to yield to him? Of their own accord, her hands let go of his male equipment and moved to his hard thighs.
“You are so sweet when you surrender to me,” he murmured.
“Don’t get too used to it,” she muttered.
“Still have a saucy mouth, I see.” His eyes had a wicked gleam. “I shall find a better use for it. Open for me, love.”
The way he took himself in hand, tapping his blunt tip against her lips, made her feverish.
She did as he asked, and he thrust inside with a ferocity that stole her breath.
Literally—for there was hardly room for air with his meaty shaft filling her mouth.
He gave her no measure, and she liked that he understood her so well.
She’d never been one to back down from a challenge.
Stretching her lips around his girth, she took as much of him as she could.
“You enjoy sucking my prick, don’t you?” he rasped.
She nodded. When he gripped her scalp, the bite of pain made her pussy flutter.
He shoved deeper, and she found a way to accommodate.
When he withdrew, she wanted him back. The primal act of giving pleasure became her focus.
She wanted to be filled by him, used by him, loved by him.
She lost herself in the bliss of giving herself wholly to her lover.
All her worries, schemes, and fears faded, and she floated in joyful freedom.
Fixing his gaze on hers, he plunged all the way in. He cupped her cheek, his eyes glittering as he felt himself moving inside her. The gesture was proprietary, and with him, she liked it. She wanted to belong to him and only him.
“My beautiful Finn,” he said huskily.
In answer, she hollowed her cheeks, and he grunted, bucking his hips. She felt him slide deeper, toward the back of her mouth. When her reflexes tried to prevent his incursion, she managed to quell them, letting him in.
“Hell’s teeth, your throat is so sweet.” His voice was thick with pleasure. “If you keep that up, I’m not going to last much longer.”
She wanted him to spend. To come apart because of her. Sliding her hands to his arse, she clutched those taut hills, urging him on.
He growled with approval. “Greedy wench. Hungry for more cock, are you?”
She hummed around his plunging shaft, and that seemed to unravel the last of his control.
He drove himself deeper, and she worshipped him, showing him with action what she yearned to put into words.
His chest heaved as he took what she freely offered, his stones slapping lewdly against her chin.
Suddenly, he tensed—then rocked forward on his toes.
He roared, his essence jetting against her tongue, his salty musk inundating her senses.
He finished with shuddering thrusts, his creamy abundance overflowing her lips.
Panting, he pulled free. He swiped his thumb over her chin, wiping away his seed.
“Was that too much?” he murmured.
She gazed at his still-turgid cock. “I was hoping it was just the beginning.”
He laughed. “Christ, I love you.”
As her heart leapt with joy, he tumbled her onto the bed.
“Owen. Crikey, that feels so—ohh.”
Finn moaned as he curled his fingers, finding that spot high inside her. He tickled that sensitive place, enjoying how she writhed and panted. Her pussy clenched around his digits, and he knew she was close to peaking again, even though she’d already anointed his tongue with her cream twice.
Bloody hell, how did a man get so lucky?
It startled him to realize that he did feel lucky, something he’d never expected to feel again. But Finn had changed that. She changed everything. Although their earlier game had been fun and arousing, now he wanted to worship her.
“Do you like the way I’m stroking your cunny?” he asked.
“I cannot take any more.”
She was lying, and they both knew it.
“But you’re squeezing my fingers so nicely.”
She gasped as he thrust with a twisting motion.
“That’s too much,” she moaned. “Do it again.”
He screwed his fingers inside her. When he judged that she was teetering on the edge, he bent and closed his lips over her pearl. He sucked fiercely, fingering her with rough, hard strokes. She arched her back, chanting his name as she flew over. Her gushing release drenched his palm.
“Blooming hell,” she sighed. “I made a mess, didn’t I?”
He crawled over her, enjoying the velvety drag of her nipples against his chest.
“As I recall, you don’t mind messes, and neither do I. Especially not this kind. I love how passionate you are—love that you share it with me. I love you, Finn.”
He kissed her, sharing the flavor of her pleasure. As their tongues twined in a sensual dance, he rocked against her, sliding his turgid cock against her lush folds.
“I cannot get enough of you,” he whispered against her lips.
“Nor I of you.” She gazed at him. “I want more, Owen.”
“More of this?” He thrust his rod against her sensitive peak.
“That’s nice,” she said throatily. “But I want to feel you…inside me.”
He stilled. “What about the risk?”
She glanced at him through her lashes. “I assume you have a preventative measure?”
He did, but that wasn’t the point.
“I don’t want you to regret this,” he said.
“Why would I?”
Because I’m a disaster. Because you could do better. Because you are too precious, and if anything happened to you because of me—
“Owen.” She caressed his jaw, her touch taming his demons. “I could never regret being with you. I want you to be my first.”
“Are you certain? Because there’s no going back—”
“I am already too far gone for you,” she whispered.
When have I ever been able to resist this woman?
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
He fetched the French letter, donning it as he mounted the bed. He paused, burning the moment into his memory. Finn was posed like a goddess in his bed, her hair spread out in luxuriant waves, her smile so warm he felt he might never be cold again.
She held out her arms. “Come to me.”
He covered her, supporting his weight as he brought his ready member to her entrance.
Notching himself to her opening, he pushed in the tip—and knew it was going to be a tight fit.
A fit that, while delightful for him, might be less so for her.
He’d never been anyone’s first before and hadn’t wanted to be.
The idea of hurting Finn was more than he could bear.
“Do it quickly,” she said.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Her eyes shone. “I want you, Owen. And I want my first lover to be the man I love.”
Joy exploded, vanquishing his doubts.
“Then I’ll have you, Finn,” he growled. “But know this: I shall be your first and your last.”
He entered her with a firm thrust, and though she gasped, her wetness eased his way. Her pussy enveloped him, each pulse of her velvety channel blazing pleasure up his spine. Once he was fully seated, he gritted his teeth and held still, giving her time to adjust.
Gazing down into her eyes, he asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “It doesn’t hurt. But it does feel a bit strange to have something so enormous wedged inside me.”
“Christ, Finn. Now is not the time to make me laugh.”
“Why don’t you try moving instead?”
He had to smile. “Is that an order?”
“I let you be in charge when we played our game,” she pointed out. “Now it’s my turn.”
“As my lady commands.”
He went slowly at first, but when she moaned and began to move with him, hunger took over.
He thrust harder, groaning at her tight, rippling heat.
She was rare and beautiful—and all his. Despite everything he’d done, he had won the heart of this woman, and now they were joined, body to body, heart to heart.
Emotion swamped him. His eyes heated, and looking down, he saw hers were wet too.
“Promise me,” she whispered. “Promise you won’t forget how perfect this is.”
“That’s an easy promise to give. I love you, Finn. We’re meant to be together like this.”
He took her lips even as he increased his tempo. She felt too fine, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He found her pearl, strumming it as he plowed her with disciplined strokes. He hilted himself again and again, his stones smacking her wet folds.
“Come for me, love,” he bit out. “And I’ll come with you.”
“Yes,” she cried.
A heartbeat later, ecstasy overtook him as well.
Bliss blasted through every cell, shaking his foundations.
Groaning her name, he came in voluptuous surges, shuddering as she wrung him of every drop.
When he garnered enough strength, he took care of the sheath before collapsing atop her.
As she sifted her fingers through his hair, he was awash with contentment.
Time turned to honey, dripping with languid sweetness.
Eventually, their frenzied hearts slowed, and he lifted his head.
“I’m not too heavy, am I?”
“You feel like a blanket of bricks.” Her carefree giggle and the joy in her eyes held him as securely as her arms. “Stay with me, my love.”
With a happy sigh, he did. He breathed her in and held her close. His last thought before sleep came was that he had finally come home.