CHAPTER 53 #3
It’s in these moments that I feel something I’ve hardly ever felt before—pure joy and love.
God, I fucking love him so much it’s like my heart can’t be contained inside my chest. I can’t escape it.
And I don’t want to. But it also scares the shit out of me, because having it—and losing it again—is terrifying.
It might just be my biggest fear.
“So about this first time. Are you going to tell me all about it?”
“Someday,” I tease. I pull his face closer to mine and nip at his lip.
“Not sure I can deliver, Lil’ Bird, if I don’t know the details.”
“That’s too bad. Honestly, it was one of the top reasons I was so keen to come back here.” I steal another kiss from him, and for a second or two, we lose ourselves in it.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to try like hell to make it even better.”
“You think you have it in you, old man?” I smirk.
“The way I see it, I’ve got some time to make up for, seeing as I could have spent the last ten years loving you, making you happy, starting a family… getting you pregnant and fat with my babies.” I swat at him, and he laughs, catching my hand.
He takes a moment and eyes the tattoo on my hand, the pink hummingbird.
His lips tenderly kiss my skin there. When his gaze meets mine again, he says, “You’re the reason, though.
The reason I’m still here. This unfinished business between us—this story we haven’t finished—is now ours to write.
It’s why I kept fighting. Because I somehow knew this was waiting for me, if I could find you.
Deep down, I think I always knew. And we’ll have our story, Lil’.
It might’ve started early, and come a little late, but it’s finally our time to live it.
I’m not going anywhere. And this sap is so fucking in love with you that he can’t see straight.
Honestly, my life makes no damn sense without you. ”
I’m a complete mess for him. But that’s not what I say. What I say is a little mean. “You are a sap.”
He laughs and nods. “I am. But just for you.”
I tap his chest three times over his heart. “Just for me. And I fucking love you too.”
He lays his hand over mine.
“Now, can we move this along?” I ask softly and with total sincerity. “Because I think I’ve waited long enough to be yours.”
“Ditto, woman.”
His mouth claims mine, fierce and possessive. There’s little need for oxygen when my desire to be as close to him as possible overrides everything else. It’s a carnality I’ve never experienced before. A high that both devastates me and sets my world right.
But yes, breathing is essential, and we finally break the kiss.
Only, Finn’s not done. His mouth slides along my jaw, runs up and down my neck, branding his way across my skin there, and then down to my collarbone.
They’re rough kisses, meant to mark and leave an impression.
The coarse brush of his goatee, too, has my skin tingling in its wake.
He attempts to lower the top of my dress for better access. It doesn’t have much give, but it’s enough for him to find the tattoo in a copy of his handwriting. His words. Etched into me.
There is beauty in her movements,
pain in her eyes,
and a storm in her soul.
~ My dreamweaver and little bird.
It was a note he’d made in his journal. I saw it one day while visiting him in rehab.
To say I was touched is an understatement.
I burst into tears. I also sat on the floor by his bed until I could pull myself together.
Because how can one goddamn man have this kind of power over me?
He slayed me with those words, broke my heart, and mended it fully at the same time.
After snapping a photo of it, I made an appointment with Taz so he could permanently ink them into my skin. I didn’t just want those words with me always; I wanted to see them every day when I looked in the mirror, so I could maybe start to see myself the way he saw me.
He pauses and pulls back. Those dark irises of his flick up to mine. “This is new.”
“I got it a few days ago.”
He huffs under his breath, “Somebody was snooping.”
“No secrets, right?”
He nods. “No secrets.”
His thumb traces the ink. A second later, his mouth replaces it. His lips tickle, and I fucking giggle because, wow, I didn’t think I had a tickle spot on my entire body. I was so very wrong.
Just like he did when he explored my body without the makeup for the first time, he pays homage to each tattoo as if they’re a map to my soul.
Spends a torturous amount of time lovingly touching and kissing each one.
He starts on my torso, moves to my arms, then my legs.
Especially the ones I painstakingly hid from him and sometimes the world before he went to rehab.
His mouth on my inner thigh has me groaning his name. The next kiss is higher up, and he adds more pressure from his hands as he grips my thighs so I can’t shy away from him.
“You have no idea how maddening it’s been to wait.
There’s drug withdrawals, and there’s you.
Getting another taste of you is all that’s been on my damn mind since the last time I had my mouth on you.
” His fingers dance over the garter belt, playing with it.
Moving inward, he strums my clit above my panties.
It’s deliberately slow, ratcheting up my need for more.
“Finn,” I moan, more out of desperation than anything else.
He continues rubbing my clit, slow and relentless, torturing me for endless moments.
It’s a performance—his own private show.
Even as he hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and peels them down my legs, he takes his sweet time.
Then he playfully twirls them around his finger once before flinging them across the room.
I shake my head and curl my finger, beckoning him back closer.
Dropping to his knees, he spreads my thighs wide to accommodate his large frame. One hand slips behind my ass so that the second his breath brushes over my clit, he can pull me to his mouth. The long, slow, languid lick up my center has my core tightening.
I lie back, close my eyes, and enjoy everything he makes me feel.
The pressure of his hands on my skin. The heat of his breath against my pussy.
The wet glide of his tongue. The rapid flicks over my clit.
Even the scrape of his goatee on my sensitive flesh.
All of it drives me wild, threatening to pull me under.
“Jesus, woman. You’re like a decadent dessert I’ve been denied for too damn long. Think I’m gonna be here a while takin’ my feel.”
He’s a man possessed as he devours me. I tug out his hair tie, threading my fingers into his hair, and use it to hold on.
Rocking my hips, I attempt fuck him right back, but he growls and tightens his hold on me.
The growl is fierce and possessive, and I swear the vibration of it ripples through my entire body.
He drives his tongue inside me. Two fingers soon follow. He curls them and begins to fuck them in rapid succession. I begin to shake. In mere moments, a haze settles over me as all other thoughts melt away.
“Oh, God. Finn! Fuck. That… that feels so fucking good. Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.”
His calloused palm roughly abuses my breast. That talented tongue of his returns to my clit.
Looking down, I meet his dark gaze, and it’s the predatory stare along with his ministrations, and the fact that his fingers know what they fuck they are doing to my body—all of it shoves me completely over the edge and into a land of euphoria, my head snapping back, and a cry spilling from my lips as I cum around his fingers.
“Fuck. Uh. Jesus, Finn. I’m…fuck.”
“Yeah. Say it just like that. Like it’s a mercy plea, because that’s what you are, Lil’. You’re at my fucking mercy.”
He doesn’t ease up for even a second. He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I ride out the orgasm as his fingers pump into me.
I’m breathless and spent, too sensitive to take any more, and when I try to pull away—he finally lets me. After dragging a hand over his face, he brings his fingers to his mouth, like he’s savoring every last trace.
Tilt sideways, I pull the zipper of my dress down. He brushes my hand away and takes over. That too lands on the floor.
His mouth moves to my stomach, where his tongue circles the petite diamond stud nestled there.
I pull on his hair, raise his head, and tangle our tongues together—consuming him the way he consumes me, tasting myself on his mouth.
“You taste good, don’t you, baby?”
I nod and lick at his bottom lip.
He groans, and I feel it everywhere. His need—his desperation to be closer—matches mine. I pull at the hem of his shirt. He grabs it by the collar and peels it off. Every movement has those delicious muscles of his flexing.
The second his shirt hits the floor, his hungry eyes locked on mine.
I lightly run my nails over the ink of his chest piece—the one that speaks to me now in a way it didn’t before.
It makes me feel like the missing piece of his soul—the woman he couldn’t let go of.
The one he had inked here as a daily reminder of me, so he would never forget, and so we could find each other again.
His reason for living and pushing through the pain.
It’s art. It’s love in its truest form.
And in a way, this version of him is more real: scars, tattoos, all of it. Not perfection, but rough edges. A body that tells a story, and it’s a story I’ll hold in my heart for as long as I live.
He pulls my thigh around his hip. “I can’t wait anymore, Lil’. The thought of being back inside you has been consuming my mind and driving me fucking mad. Wanna feel you, baby, all around me. Been waiting, but not sure I can wait another second to feel you again.”
I grin. “Right there with you.”
“Good. Then we’re done fuckin’ waiting.”