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“Do you like what he’s doing?” Finn asked.
Absently, she allowed her own fingertips to grace the plump skin over her bodice.
“I remember what it was like to lick your breasts. They turn cherry red when they’ve been suckled.”
Claire’s belly clinched. She was already wet. At this rate, she’d leave a huge wet spot on Finn’s knee when she stood up.
“You didn’t answer me. If you were alone, would you be touching yourself? Would you slide a finger below the bodice of your dress so you could tease your nipples? Would you, Claire?” She barely registered it when his hand came up to cup her breast. But she didn’t shove his hand away. She liked his touch. Her breasts were more sensitive than normal, but his touch was gentle.
“Yes,” she whispered, ashamed of her own response. She would be touching her nipples. She would be massaging her breasts. She would be ready to find completion.
“Tell me if I do anything you don’t want,” he said. Then his hand grazed the sensitive skin above her breasts. It was all Claire could do not to arch her back to thrust her breasts into his hands. To shamelessly beg him to caress her. “You’ll tell me if I’m not pleasing you, won’t you?” he breathed. His voice had dropped to a husky murmur for her ears alone.
His finger slipped beneath her bodice and grazed that turgid little peak that ached for him. A shameless moan left her throat.
“I would give anything right now to lower your bodice and take you in my arms. Then I’d drink you in.”
She was being tortured. “Finn,” she protested.
“What is it, love? Do you want to come?”
If it wasn’t so dark, he would see her blush furiously at that question. But, heaven help her, she did. She did want to come.
“Do you want me to make you come, Claire?” he asked softly.
She turned her head and buried it in his neck. She couldn’t say no. She couldn’t say yes.
He chuckled lightly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She exhaled. Finally. Thank God.
His fingers left her bodice and he laid his hand flat on her thigh. Then his fingers began to gather her skirts, bunching them up more and more near her hip. He took great care not to expose her, although at this point, she was well beyond caring. When his fingers finally encountered her skin, they lingered to play at the top of her stockings.
“What color are they?” He drew her earlobe into his mouth and suckled it gently.
“Green,” she replied without even thinking.
“One day, I want to remove them from you so I can lick all the way from your toes to—” He paused. Then found the passage inside her drawers through the slit in the middle, and as his fingers parted her flesh, he finished, saying, “Here.”
Claire’s right hand clutched the chair arm, while her left hand clung tightly to his thigh.
“You are so wet,” he murmured.
How mortifying.
“So lovely,” he continued. His free hand cupped her breast, his finger stroking across her nipple through the bodice of her gown. His fingers dipped inside her, as he brought her own moisture forward and circled that little nub of pleasure he seemed to be fairly well acquainted with. “Oh, it’s swollen. I bet it’s thumping like mad. Just like your heart.”
She nodded, her eyes still closed. She didn’t even need to watch the performance on the stage. Finn was more than she could handle up on the landing. In the dark, with his fingers stroking her most private places, with him driving her senseless.
His finger dipped inside her again, drawing that slick moisture from inside her channel so he could slide his finger easily across that knot of sensation.
“Finn,” she cried out.
“Are you close?” he asked in her ear.
She nodded frantically, biting her lower lip to keep from screaming.
The pressure and speed of his assault increased. “Then do it,” he growled in her ear. “Come for me. Let me feel that sweet wash of your release. Let me feel your body quake in my arms. When you come, I’m going to slide my finger inside you and dream about the day it’ll be me inside you again as you flutter in release.”
