Chapter 11
Eleven
Skylar
Finn’s words hang in the air and then snake around my chest, squeezing out my resolve to be good.
He’s such a decent man on the outside, but he’s too fucking good at getting my panties off.
I respond the only way I can. I’m tired, horny, and weak-willed from spending all day working inches away from this man. Sometimes next to him. Sometimes, with him standing behind me at the table saw, his hands guiding me, his body heat all around me.
With what seems like zero effort, Finn lifts me up and sets me down on the work table, sending my hard hat and the remaining room-temperature coffee drinks and stale donuts tumbling to the floor.
I don’t actually care, not with this man taking off his tool belt, then dropping that pencil that he keeps tucked behind his ear.
He’s just so much man between my thighs.
My hands scramble at his zipper, and he has to help me because I’m shaking too much. Eventually, we get there, tugging down the waistband of his black boxer briefs. And there it is. Thick and red. Pulsing and fully erect, with a small stream of cum already leaking out.
My jaw drops at the sight of it. It’s all I can do to drag my eyes away and back up to meet his gaze.
Finn is far more adept at getting me out of my jeans. With my arms around his neck, he lifts my hips and hitches down my jeans and panties, all the while kissing me wildly. His tongue dominates while his incredibly strong arm slides my hips forward, fitting his incredible cock against my middle.
My brain short-circuits as he slides that thing through my folds. “Holy fucking shit, you’re so damn hot,” he murmurs, moving through me as he grits out his words against my throat. The tip…the tip is so close.
“I want all that on my dick before I wrap it up. It’s gonna feel so fucking good.”
I let out a little squeak and thrust forward involuntarily. I think I just squirted.
Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Is this what sex is like now? Is this real life?
Happy birthday to me.
Where has he been? Where did he learn to make a woman do what my body is doing?
I close my eyes and mewl like an idiot, letting myself get lost in the sensation, until it’s gone.
Wait…gone?
I open my eyes and realize, to my relief, he’s wrapping himself up.
“Ribbed for her pleasure,” I laugh.
Aroused Finn has no time for joking around.
I’m on my back, my hands clinging to his bunched shoulders.
Finn’s eyes are on me as he hooks on arm under one of my legs and pushes inside.
I gasp at the stretch. The burn. The fleeting thought that he’s not going to fit, but then…he’s in.
And I’m wrecked.
Locking my other leg around Finn’s waist, I pull him in closer.
He moves in me. Slowly. Deeply. His eyes penetrating my soul.
It’s almost too much. Too serious.
And if he weren’t so good at taking me like this, I might try to make him laugh.
But I’m all out of words. I am only gasps and cries and moans. I am putty where he is steady. I’m soft where he’s firm. I’m falling apart while he powers into me.
“Finn…yes, Finn…”
He angles me on my side a little and switches legs. I have no idea what’s happening, but the next thrust is a whole new sensation. Hot and tingly in new places. I’m going to shatter so hard, and he seems like he could last for hours. This is new and fun and utterly devastating.
Finn is already the best sex of my life, and it’s not on a bed or in a totally private space.
Who is this man?
I stop asking these questions when his mouth finds mine again, sharing his sweet, salty taste with me.
I’m not thinking about how on earth he’s able to hold me up and move me in sync with his body. I’m not thinking about how sturdy or not-sturdy this work table might be. No thoughts between these ears. Only the unreal sensation of being held—cradled, even—while this man blows my fucking back out.