7 Finn #2
“Do you understand?” I murmured against the flushed, fever-tight peak of her nipple, my breath ghosting over her sensitized skin. “There is nothing on you I won’t put my mouth on and thank the goddess for.”
She stopped talking after that.
I took my time, even while the clock in my head screamed at me about the encroaching Saint. That was the whole war of it I couldn’t shut off. Relentlessly counting the seconds against the god hunting us on the ridge, and the wolf laying its entire, devastating existence at her feet.
I worshipped her breasts until she was writhing beneath me, until her good hand fisted into my hair hard enough to pull the roots, her breath tearing out of her lungs in ragged, desperate gasps. The scent of her arousal—spicy clove and dark violets—flooded the narrow space.
I moved lower.
I dragged my mouth down the center of her stomach, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the toned ridges of muscle there, mapping the incredible strength of her.
When my hands parted her thighs and I finally pressed my mouth directly against her dripping, swollen center, she said my name like a swear and a prayer stacked on top of each other.
Taste her. Ours.
She was slick, incredibly hot, and burning up with the fever.
I licked into her slow. Deliberate. Then faster, learning exactly what pulled the wrecked sounds out of her throat.
I cataloged every stuttering hitch of her breath with the same ruthless precision I’d once used to catalog the weaknesses of rooms I meant to burn.
I traced the flat of my tongue over the swollen bundle of nerves at her clit, lapping at her wetness, and she bucked violently against my face.
She burns for us, the wolf growled. Claim her.
“Finn—” Her voice was a sobbing, gutted thing. Her athletic thighs clamped tight around my ears, dragging my mouth harder against her core. “Please. The pressure—”
“I know,” I growled against her dripping core.
I slid two thick fingers deep into her tight, scalding heat. Her inner walls instantly clamped down around the intrusion with a slick, crushing grip that nearly shattered my control. I worked my fingers in a relentless rhythm, using my mouth to drive the pleasure higher and higher.
More, the wolf demanded, fighting my restraint. Take her.
Not yet. Let the fever break first.
She cried out in pleasure, her inner walls spasming around my fingers. I groaned for the pleasure of it.
The fever in her blood banked, just slightly. The poison gave up a fraction of an inch of ground.
“That’s one,” I rasped, pressing a wet kiss to the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh.
My voice had dropped to gravel, and something vibrating under the gravel that wasn’t remotely human.
“The bond’s burning it. Every time you break for me, it takes more of the poison out.
I’m going to make you break until there’s absolutely nothing left of it in you. ”
“Then stop talking about it,” she gasped, her fingernails biting into the corded muscles of my shoulders, “and get up here.”
I dragged my massive body back up over hers, my chest heaving, the sweat slicking both our skin. I reached blindly for my discarded uniform pants on the stone, finding the heavy canvas pocket.
No barrier. She is ours. The animal thrashed in my head, furious at the delay.
I protect her first, I shot back, forcing the wolf down. I won’t give her another burden today. I tore the foil packet open with my teeth and rolled the condom down my throbbing length without a second of hesitation.
I braced myself on one forearm, agonizingly conscious of my crushing weight even now. Her hand slid down between our bodies, her knuckles brushing the coarse hair of my stomach. Her fingers found me and closed around my shaft.
The breath punched out of my lungs at the contact. She guided the broad head of my cock directly to her wet entrance, and I held perfectly still, looking down into her face.
Gold. All gold. Both eyes, no brown left at all, the fever making them dangerously incandescent.
“Tell me,” I said, the muscles in my arms trembling violently with the sheer effort of holding myself back from sinking into her. “One more time. Not because I doubt you. Because I need to hear the truth in your voice when your head’s clear enough to give it.”
Her hand tightened on my shaft. Her hips lifted off the stone, a deliberate, demanding pressure that dragged the tip of me a fraction of an inch inside her tight heat.
“Finally,” she said. “Finally we’ve found each other.”
Steady. Absolute. A woman who’d spent her entire life ruthlessly refusing to hand her true self over to anyone, handing herself to me with both eyes wide open.
“Take it, wolf,” she demanded, her voice vibrating with raw authority. “Take all of it. I’m finally here.”
I drove into her.
We both broke on the impact. The sharp, breathless sound she made, the deep, guttural roar that tore out of my own throat—the two sounds tangled together in the air of the tower. And then there was no more thought anywhere in my head at all.
Mine. Mine. Mine. The wolf was a rhythmic, pounding chant synchronized with every thrust of my hips.
There was only the impossible rightness of it. The exquisite stretch of her body taking mine. The searing heat of her inner walls gripping my thick length with every thrust.
We found the rhythm instantly, the exact same way we’d found it in the corridor, in the stairwell, fighting back to back. Flawless. Two halves of a machine built for exactly this one devastating purpose.
She wrapped her long legs around my hips, locking her ankles at the small of my back, and pulled me deeper. I gave her everything. I hammered into her with a relentless, driving pace, the hard slap of our bodies echoing off the stone walls, and she met every single stroke.
“Don’t hold back.” Her nails raked down the broad expanse of my back, scoring hot lines into my skin. “I mean it, Finn—I don’t want the careful version—”
“You’re not getting it.” I slid a hand under her hips, lifting her entirely off the floor to change the angle, and she keened as I ground the thick root of my shaft ruthlessly against her swollen clit.
“You couldn’t have the careful version if you begged.
That part of me is gone. You burned it flat—”