Chapter 27 #3
Not a question, a command, but it’s not as if he really needs to right now.
He constantly checks that I’m okay in ways that don’t include words every time.
He watches me with an intense concentration each and every time we’ve found ourselves in situations like this, and never once have I worried that he won’t stop if I say no.
I want him to command me like this, to demand and take what he wants, because I know full well I’ll get every ounce of pleasure out of it.
Which is why, when a breathy “Yes” does come out of my mouth, it’s winded, yes, but also strong and unwavering.
My shorts are off in record time, tossed somewhere on the floor, leaving me in nothing but a lacy thong. Finn rests his head on my stomach as he groans, and the feeling makes me jolt. His strong grip on my thighs holds me in place.
My legs are spread to allow for him to move between them.
“Please tell me you bought these recently,” he pleads.
I don’t bother to hide my giggle. “Last week,” I tell him.
“Thank God.”
“I don’t get why that matt—”
In the blink of an eye, my thong lays in two pieces on the floor. I give Finley a look to which he just shrugs.
“I’ve always wanted to do that.” His gaze turns serious. “Now, be a good girl for me and keep those legs spread wide. I need zero interruptions for what I’m about to do next.”
The task I’ve been assigned becomes almost impossible the moment Finn’s mouth finds my pussy. He makes it unfeasible for me to remember to control my legs when his tongue moves in slow yet confident circles around my clit; teasing, warming me up for the main event.
He licks up my slit and I arch into him and grab a fistful of his hair in my hand, trying to keep him as close as I possibly can.
He keeps hold of my thighs as if they’re keeping him here, keeping him grounded and stable enough to fully enjoy this. And enjoying this he is. Every moan and hum is proof of that, and each one is felt against my sensitive bundle of nerves, which sends pulses of electricity zipping through my body.
Finley has every single nerve in my body lit up like a Christmas tree. He pays close attention to every single part of my pussy and I’m squirming so much, I’m not sure if it’s to get away from the sensation or to try and see if I can get closer to it.
“I said stay still, Cherry. I’d hate it if I had to stop.”
Fuck, my brain barely even comprehends his words, but my body understands perfectly, a feeling of dread filling me as it anticipates the loss of contact, and as if with a mind of its own, my body halts its movement, even if reluctantly.
He hums against me, and it takes everything in me not to move. “Fuck,” I groan.
He hums again, this time against my clit. “Good girl, Cherry baby. The more you stay still, the faster I make you come. A fair deal, don’t you think?”
Not particularly, but right now I’m not risking him moving his mouth away from me.
Each stroke and every moan is a staggering step toward my orgasm. Every lick and every suck of my clit makes me wish I could go back in time and do this with him sooner. I obviously knew that the man is talented with his fingers, but this? This is a whole other level of talent.
I start to feel that lick of heat that zips down your spine as you begin to reach that crucial point.
Most men start to slack off here, satisfied with the mere fact that they got you close enough that they think getting to the end is inevitable.
But in reality, this is the hardest part.
You need to keep a specific pace that … that … oh fucking hell, he’s found it.
It’s almost as if he’s working harder, as if he can tell somehow that coming is close to being an inevitability instead of a possibility.
I don’t know how he knows, but a slower pace is exactly what I need when I’m this close.
I need to feel every movement, allow my body to memorize every stroke of his tongue, every—
“Shit!”
Two fingers stretch me as they enter. Finn curls his fingers until he’s caressing the top just the way I like, and holy fuck, does it do the trick. My pussy tightens around him, claiming him and making sure he knows just how close I am.
He presses a kiss to my inner thigh. “God, I can feel you’re close, Cherry.”
“So close.” I groan as my squirming starts up again. Thankfully, I receive no reprimand from Finn.
“Let go, baby, I’ve got you.”
Maybe it’s the commanding tone of his voice.
Maybe it’s the way Finn’s movements are exactly what I need.
Hell, maybe it’s an amalgamation of the two.
Whatever it is, it ends up being more than enough to send me over the edge.
He watches with rapt fascination as my back arches off of the couch, my hands reaching for something to hold me, ground me.
Finn lifts my hips off of the couch so he’s higher up, able to see my face without taking his mouth away from my pussy.
The look of pleasure on his face matches mine as I clamp around his fingers, and I try my hardest not to tear my gaze away even though my eyes are begging to close from the overwhelming sensations running through my body.
I feel the moment every ounce of energy dissipates from my body, making me go limp on the couch.
Finn peppers kisses along my legs, my stomach, my chest, until his face is a hair’s width away from my own.
He nudges his nose against mine and leaves the tiniest kiss on the tip.
The next time he kisses my lips, it’s slow, meaningful, and I try my best to push down my fear that comes storming across my mind and my stomach.
I want to enjoy this. I want to enjoy being with the man who, in the last month alone has shown me more care and appreciation than any man has before him.
Finn’s kisses turn to playful nips against my neck and I can’t stop the giggle that passes my lips. His low chuckle feels like warm honey against my skin.
His hands grip my ass and he uses his thighs to stop me sliding anywhere while he lifts me up until I’m able to wrap my legs around his waist. His lips find mine again, and I silently hope that this is a moment that never ends.