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“Say it again,” she said as he unclipped her bra.
“Say what?” he whispered on her ear’s curve.
She took her top lip into her mouth as she built the courage, “My name.”
His hands teased her bra down her arms and onto the floor, leaving her beautifully exposed.
“Áine,” he stretched as he grabbed her chest with both hands, bunching her breasts so both him and her softly moaned and released a pent of sighing satisfaction they had somehow managed to contain for years.
She loved it. Loved it all. She couldn’t wait another second. Her fingers dipped into the edge of her underwear to lower them.
“No—” he froze her hands. “I’ll do it.”
Áine softened her clench to give him the go-ahead, letting their fingers brush until he pulled them down slowly, tickling her sensitive skin, on her thighs, between her knees, her calves and ankles.
He sat then, pulling her with him, exposing her chest opposite his face, brushing himself against her hip in a moment she became fully aware she wore nothing, while he hadn’t taken off a single item of clothing.
That wouldn’t do.
Áine took to unbuckling his belt as he pulled his hoodie and the t-shirt beneath over his head, simultaneously flinging them haphazardly across the room.
She appreciated that he hadn’t lied about his body; hairy and much more muscular than deserved for his self-proclaimed lack of effort. Not a cut out of abs but something more natural. Real. Two protruding lines dipped into the V of his jeans she was desperate to get off.
Taking to unbuckling the belt himself, he used the other hand to bunch her hair in his fist.
Áine’s eyes fluttered, intensified by how much she hadn’t expected it and how much she thrived on it.
Fuck.
“I thought you liked my hair the other way,” she teased. “Thought you said it was lovely the way it was.”
“I like it every way. But right now, I’d like it in my hand.”
She slid his pants down, navy briefs in tow. The sight of him exposed, brought more familiarity that made her reach out and grab it like it was hers to own. She felt like she was dying of starvation and needed mouthfuls of him.
His hold of her hair collapsed to pull her mouth up to his. Pull her back further into the bed so that she straddled him.
Áine was a woman who would be inclined to point out the need for foreplay to reach a climax, but all she could think of as his hand clenched her nape to bring her closer was how much she needed him inside her. Needed the vacancy filled to feel whole. This sensation of need built in her, thriving off foundations of lust and demand, lapsing her brain of all judgement apart from the crave for him, and for a climax he’d already swollen just by lilting old lore to her.
They were two intertwined. She could feel that now. Feel it as Fionn read her wants and whispered, “now?” to her.
Already?Was what he really meant.
She nodded, pleadingly, at eyes which didn’t move from her when hitching her leg to roll himself on top with effortless strength. The intimacy was palpable, his edges by hers as he slowly, too slow for her sanity, pushed himself inside her until she felt full.
Gorged and glutinous, she inhaled loudly while his breath was calm in her ear, focused and driven.
His thrusts started to build, each one giving her flesh and heat and clarity while she clamped her fingers on the low of his back.
“Fionn,” she moaned.
Never one to opt for a missionary position, she was also sure sex had never felt like a spiritual occurrence before.
Wrapping her legs on his waist to claim him, she begged for—
“More!” Though really what she was trying to say was forever—stay inside me forever.
Running his hands between the gap of her breasts his fingers rose until curling her neck, leaving just his thumb to press against her lips. He was with her in this moment, each breath matching hers to show her the pleasure was unanimous.
