Page 40 of Protecting His Finch

“Ah. So your imperfection is that you’re too perfect.”

She purses her lips. “If you’re going to make fun of me—”

I close my mouth over hers. Hard. Messy. I want her to come undone. I want to kiss every doubt and insecurity out of her body. She sighs against my kiss, and when I seal it off, her lips remain parted, shiny and swollen.

“I want you to wrap your hand around my cock,” I tell her firmly. “Will you be a good girl and do that for me?”

She nods, and I can tell she’s already on a different plane. Call a perfectionist a good girl and she melts like butter underneath you.

She’s careful not to touch my wound. She starts her fingertips above my navel, mapping the lines of muscle there. Then she moves down, walking the trail of curly black hair that leads her to my waistband.

Already, I’m hard with anticipation. I’m straining the fabric of my briefs. I’m watching her, though: those parted lips, the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Testing, she takes her fingertip and runs it up along the outline of my erection. Even the single touch from her sends a hot lick of want through me, and I feel myself immediately grow harder.

She touches the waistband, nudging it. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I tell her, throat already tight.

She lifts my briefs and pushes them down, freeing my cock. I watch her eyes widen, and she lets out a soft “Oh.” She wets her lips, and when her eyes meet mine, there’s a fire in them. “You’re quite big,” she says.

“I am.” I’m not boasting. It’s just a fact. My body was built to be a weapon, and my cock is no different. It has the power to hurt women, if not wielded correctly.

Which is why it’s a good thing I know how to use it.

Finley traps her bottom lip between her teeth. I feel her fingers run through my coarse hair, and then, gently, she takes me in her hand. She’s investigative, the pads of her fingers touching all of me—she traces my veins, the ridges underneath my tip, and when she pets the head of me, I can’t help the growl that leaves my throat.

Those honey eyes meet mine. “Is that sensitive?”

“Very. So be kind.”

She presses her lips together. “I’ve changed my mind.”

My breath catches. If she stops now, I’m going to have a very, very hard night ahead of me. But I won’t pressure her. I keep my tone neutral as I ask, “How’s that?”

“I don’t want you to tell me things.”

A breath of a laugh escapes me. “I thought you wanted me to teach you.”

She shakes her head. “I want to figure it out for myself. Is that okay?”

I nod. If this is how I’m going to be her guinea pig—well. I’m not complaining.

She continues her caresses, her touch frustratingly feather-soft. Then she tests the pressure. She takes me fully in her grip and squeezes, gently at first, then harder. It’s pleasant until it’s not, and I intake a sharp breath. She relaxes her grip at that, her eyes flickering between my face and between my legs. She gives me a couple of long, slow strokes, and then her hand moves over my balls. She cups them, exploring, and I moan.

“You’re very vocal,” she tells me.

“Am I?” That’s a surprise. Normally, I’m quiet when I fuck. Quiet when I come.

Finley must unleash something in me.

She nestles, her hair soft against my chest, angling to better look at her handiwork. “You gasp when it’s bad,” she tells me. “You moan when it’s good. And when you growl…it’s like you’re saying, it hurts, but don’t stop.”

I blink. “You got that all already?”

“I’m a quick learner.” She shifts then, propping herself up on her elbow. Her shirt clings to her, and I can see the hardness of her nipples through the thin fabric. From this angle, she studies my face intently and briefly removes her touch. I throb in her absence. She opens her mouth, wets two of her fingers with her tongue, and then dives her hand under the sheets again.

Immediately, her slick fingers hone in on my most sensitive spot directly under the tip of me. My jaw locks. I can taste my teeth. She swirls her fingers in small, deliciously agonizing circles, and I can’t help the growl that escapes me.

“See?” she says, pleased with herself. “You growled. But you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com