Chapter 16 #2
I groan, arching my back so I can push closer, chasing his tongue and all the pleasure I know he’ll give me. I think briefly of the vibrator I hid in my craft room when I decided to give Finn this bedroom, and how it’s never even come close to this. This is something else. This is—
This is a man with a talented tongue single-handedly focused on my pleasure. This is a man who I can believe wants me to come more than anything in the world. I groan; that’s apparently as hot as everything else about him.
I can’t take it anymore. I know he told me to leave my hands on the bed, but I need something more real to grab onto.
I reach down and grip his horns, conscious of the fact that I don’t know if there’s a point where their apparent sensitivity turns to pain.
I keep my grip light, but he immediately stops moving, groaning low and deep before re-doubling his efforts.
I rub my thumb over the tip of them. I was curious if it’d be sharp, but it’s not, just smooth and hard and kind of electrifying, if I’m honest. It feels hard as stone, and I trace it, fascinated.
He growls, pulling back from my pussy, and I whine, gripping his horns tighter in response. “Baby,” he murmurs, voice choked, “if you keep doing that, I’m not going to last.”
I smile at him, rubbing my thumb over the tip of his horn. His eyes fall shut. “That sounds like something I’d like to see,” I tell him, daring to pet him with a little more pressure. He whimpers this time, his body jerking under my grip.
“Baby—”
“Yes, husband?” I ask idly.
His eyes open. “Oh, you’re evil. You want me to come in my pants, wife?”
I definitely wouldn’t be opposed. I like knowing that I affect him, that he’s as turned on by this as I am. I run my thumb over his horn again.
“Leave me some dignity, Cassidy. Let me at least make you come on my face first.”
I open my mouth to ask what dignity has to do with it, but don’t get a word out, because he leans forward, tongue finding my clit before I can say anything. I gasp, head rocking back, and Finn hums appreciatively.
One of his huge fingers slides into me, and I groan around the stretch. “Finn—”
“That’s it, baby,” he mumbles, words muffled by my body, vibrating against my clit. “So fucking pretty for me. Look at you, ready to soak my face. Going to mark your husband, baby?” His free hand lands on my belly, pressing lightly as his finger inside me crooks.
“Oh, fuck.” How is he so good at turning me into a puddle?
He slides a second finger inside me, opening me up for what I’m sure is going to be a massive stretch. I haven’t even seen his cock yet, but I can make an educated guess. I’ll need every bit of stretching I can get.
I whine, and he hushes me. “I know, baby, I know. But it’s going to feel so good. Relax into it,” he croons, and I can’t help but listen, relaxing my muscles so I can welcome him inside.
He keeps playing with my clit, his tongue moving in shapes I’m pretty confident are letters, and if only I was more cognizant so I could figure out what he’s writing. But every stroke of his tongue sends me closer and closer to the edge. I feel it, pulled tight inside me, waiting to snap—
I grip his horns tight when I come, and the only thing I hear is him moaning my name.
I’m breathing heavily, my body still tingling, when he presses kisses along my thighs. “So fucking perfect, baby,” he coos, and I sigh, my whole body completely boneless.
“I want to—what can I do for you?” I ask after a moment.
He’s silent for a moment, but then he says, “Don’t worry about it.”
“What?” I sit up. “Worried I’d be that bad?” I mean it to come out teasing, but judging from the way his eyes scrunch up, I miss the mark.
“Cassidy,” he says, back to the growly voice. “Like you could ever be bad. You made me come without even touching my cock.”
“I did?” I demand, trying to get a glimpse, but he’s still kneeling on the floor, pants still on. “You did?”
“I did,” he confirms. “Came in my pants like a teenager because your pretty little hands touched my horns.”
That’s oddly flattering and kind of arousing, honestly. He wanted me that badly?
“I’d like to, you know, do it on purpose next time,” I tell him, already imagining it. I didn’t even manage to get him fully naked.
He groans. “You’re telling me that was an accident? I’m terrified of what you’ll do to me on purpose.”
“Finn, come on.”
“I’m being serious, baby. I think you might ruin me.” He pushes to his feet, and now I can see the wet spot on his jeans. I practically lick my lips like a cartoon character. “I need to get cleaned up. Too old to have sticky jeans.”
He strolls over to the bag he still hasn’t unpacked in the corner, moving leisurely.
He unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his hips, not a care that I’m watching.
“And, uh, on this ‘too old’ thing…” I begin.
“Not too old to go again, I hope?” I remind myself he’s ten years older than me. He might need a break.
He turns back to me, now clad only in soaked briefs, and lets his eyes rake over my almost-naked form. “Trust me, baby,” he says, voice full of hot promise, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”