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“Damn right I am.” He lifts me like I weigh nothing and gives me half a second of warning before he slowly drops me down over his dick. My toes curl as I take in every inch of him. If I thought his fingers or tongue felt good, this is like a whole other world. He slowly slides himself inside me and just as I’m beginning to think that I won’t be able to take any more, he bottoms out, and I have to marvel at how perfectly he fits inside me.
He gives me an experimental thrust. “How’s that?”
My head hits his shoulder and I bite down on the soft skin there in an attempt to muffle my cry. How can it possibly feel so good already?
I hear him chuckle and then I feel his fingers come up to tug at the back of my hair. It’s not painful; he uses just enough force for me to recognise that it’s intentional and he’s trying to catch my attention. I lift my head up and bite back another moan as the movement has me involuntarily grinding on him.
“As much as I liked that,” he says, nodding to the patch on his shoulder where a small, purple bruise is surely going to form by the morning. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. I told you I want to hear you scream my name. Okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Make sure you keep watching,” he murmurs as he grabs my hips and starts to bounce me up and down. “I want you to see everything your beautiful body does to me. I need you to see, first-hand, what I see – what I feel – every time I look at you. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you keep your eyes on me? On us?”
I nod and he smiles. It’s a soft smile, a sweet smile, one reserved just for me.
For us.
I keep my word and my gaze remains locked on our reflections. Even when he presses into me, his dick hitting that sweet spot that makes my vision blur, I force myself to keep my eyes open. I’m so glad that I do. Because I don’t miss the wayhiseyes roll back, the way he bites his bottom lip as I roll my hips against his, the increasingly erratic rise and fall of his chest as he moans my name between grunted pants.
I think this may just be the hottest thing I’ve ever done.
I love watching the way Finn’s hips roll into mine as he bucks upward, finding a steady pace that works well for us both. I stick to my word and don’t muffle my moans and cries as he hits me in all the right spots.
“Finn.”
Every time I moan out his name he sinks himself deeper into me and I feel his body shudder. This might just be my superpower. The ability to make Finn Hawthorne lose his mind with just one word.
“Finn.”
“You feel sogood, Amber,” he groans as I bounce, fingers digging tightly into my skin. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.”
Baby. I pause. That’s a new one, and while I don’t hate it, there’s one I prefer more.
I tear my gaze away from the mirror and grip his chin tightly between my thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look into my eyes. “Sweetheart,” I tell him between moans. “Youcall mesweetheart.”
I don’t know what it is exactly that sends him over the edge — Is it the eye contact, the little order I give him, or the way I roll my hips to punctuate that lastsweetheart— but it works.
His grip on my waist tightens, and the rhythmic thrusts turn almost feral as he jerks into me. “Sweetheart. Oh,fuck,I—”
I capture his lips in a kiss and swallow down the deep, loud groan that spills out as he finishes inside me. I bring my other hand down to my clit and rub just how I like it, taking me to that sweet, sweet spot in seconds. I arch my back and let my head roll between my shoulders as my vision blurs, and for the second time in less than an hour, I see stars.
I watch our reflections in the mirror as we pull ourselves back together. I like the way I look sitting in his arms, like this is where I belong. After a few minutes, our breathing returns to normal and he plants a lazy kiss on the corner of my mouth.
“That was number two,” I remind him as he stands up, cradling me in his arms as he walks us toward the bathroom. “You promised me a least one more, or did you forget?”
He shoots me a tired grin. “I don’t break promises, sweetheart. And tonight is just getting started.”
23
AMBER
Finn sleeps like a log.
I’ve been up for at least an hour now, woken by the sunlight cracking through the slits in the curtains, but Finn is still peacefully snoring away. I don’t wake him, though. He deserves as much sleep as he can get after last night, both the launch party andourevening together.
I watch him as he softly snores. There’s a row of purplish-pink bruises forming along his collarbone. I did that. I marked him. He might be leaving in less than 24 hours, but those marks will linger for a while, and I feel a strange sense of territorial pride as I look at them.
Mine.
