That fuels his determination. He finds my lips once more, but this time his hand also finds my throat, gripping and squeezing just enough that my pussy contracts in response. Absolutely nothing wrong with liking a little pain.
His other hand is bold as brass, finding my ass and giving a hard squeeze. I moan against his mouth in response, and he lets out a fucking growl that sounds so animalistic, I’m overcome with need. His hands wander, taking in every inch of my body. I allow myself the liberty of doing the same. My hands glide over the firm muscles across his shoulders, down the slopes of his arms and back up over his abs. I don’t know how to stop, but based on the sounds Finn is making right now, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.
Even though Finn’s hand finds its way back to my throat, the way he places me down on the couch is so paradoxically opposite that I laugh.
“Something funny, my tart little thing?”
“First of all, ‘tart little thing’ is definitely a no from me. Secondly, I just can’t get over how different you become when you’re turned on.”
His smile falters and something akin to insecurity passes across his face. His hand rips away from my throat as if it’s been burned.
“Hey.” I take his face in my hands and bring him closer, letting my lips lightly press against his. “I love it.”
He looks surprised. “You do?”
“Fuck, yeah. You’re a man I would write about.”
That spurs him on once more. His hands become bolder in their search and instead of sticking to the innocent spaces, they journey further out to sea. They float along the inside of my thighs, right up to where I need it most, but he denies me that much.
He leans back, his smile back in full force. “God, the things I’ve been planning in my head for you.”
“Do tell.”
“I’m more of a shower than a teller.”
He leans forward, his mouth finding the shell of my ear, the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder blade. He kisses, bites, and nibbles, and I don’t waste a single second thinking about the bruises that will be there tomorrow. Now, I actually find myself grateful for the excessive AC because my skin feels like it’s on fire. Everywhere his fingers or his mouth touch burns with a fire made from pleasure and pain. It’s the perfect balance—sweet and salt, light and dark, shy and confident.
His kisses drift downward until he meets the swell of my breasts. His fingers curl around the edge of my bra and he looks up at me, waiting for me to give him the go-ahead. A single nod is all he needs before he’s ripping it down, exposing my breasts to him for the first time.
He stares at them like he’s found the Holy Grail; so intently that I’d believe him if he said that’s what he found.
My breasts aren’t huge, but they aren’t small, either. Definitely enough for them to be a handful, even in Finn’s massive hands. He cups one in each hand, and the cold of his palms reacts perfectly with the heat evaporating off my skin. His thumb streaks across my nipple and I let out a small yelp.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is that sensitive?” he asks with a smile that tells me that he isn’t sorry for shit.
His laugh vibrates against mine as he kisses me once more, two notes of joy forming a tune I could listen to as many times as possible. Kisses on my lips skirt across to my cheek and down to my neck. When he kisses that sensitive spot behind my ear, I mewl like a goddamn kitten.
“I could listen to you over and over again, Cherry.”
He peppers kisses down my chest, in between my breasts and down my stomach, until he’s right against the waistline of my shorts.
He hovers over them, hands waiting on either side. He watches me with nothing but mischief on his face. “Say yes, Cherry.”
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?—”
