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He slowed afterward, fucking me gently until I was writhing against him again.
Then he was grabbing me and turning me onto my belly, then pulling me onto all fours before slamming deep into me again.
“Oh, my God,” I whimpered, the new position making me feel him even better.
His hands grabbed my hips, using them to slam me back onto him as he surged deep.
He was fucking me hard then.
Hard enough that the bed was starting to slide across the floor with each thrust.
“There it is,” he groaned as my walls tightened hard around him. “Come for me,” he demanded. “Squeeze my cock.”
Then just like that, I was.
This time, taking him with me, his body jerking hard as he came.
He fell forward afterward, pressing me flat on the mattress with his weight pinning me to it.
We were both breathless and silent for a long time, just trying to bring some calm back to our chaotic bodies.
He rolled onto the mattress at my side after a long few minutes, allowing me to finally take a deep breath.
His hand grabbed my hip, pulling me so that my ass was nestled against his hips, his arm going heavy over my stomach.
“Did you happen to pick up any electrolyte drinks at the store?” I asked when I trusted my voice again.
“Why?” he asked as his fingers traced absentmindedly over the skin of my stomach.
“Because we are going to be doing that about five more times today,” I told him, feeling the chuckle as it rumbled through him.
“Glad we’re having carbs for dinner,” he said, face nuzzling into my neck. “I’m gonna need the energy,” he added, making my lips curve up.
Happy.
God, I was really fucking happy right then.
And there wasn’t even the slightest urge to flee, to get some space, to be alone.
“You know what you need?” I asked into the silence as we lay there together.
“Something to play music on in here?” he asked, making my smile spread wider.
“Exactly.”
“Or…” he said.
“Or?” I asked, hazy in an unfamiliar type of joy. The kind that had my heart feeling warm and my head fuzzy.
I was just realizing what the sensation was—starting to fall for someone—when he spoke again.
“You could play,” he suggested.
“The guitar?”
“No, the harmonica,” he said, fingers tickling my hipbone. “Of course your guitar. Perish said you have the voice of an angel.”
“He did not.”
“He did,” Finn confirmed. “And that Lottie sounds like a cat being shaken in a bucket.”
“That’s… very specific yet somehow completely accurate. I love her to death, but the girl couldn’t ever carry a tune. Doesn’t stop her from singing. Loudly and often.”
“So?” he asked.
“Really?” I asked. “Right now?”
“Hey, I’m cooking for you. You could play for me.”
I never played or sang in front of people intentionally.
Somehow, though, I felt myself rolling off the side of the bed, then tiptoeing out of the bedroom, hoping the awkward walk didn’t make me look completely ridiculous.
I grabbed my guitar then made my way back to find him sitting up against the headboard, waiting for me.
“That seems completely unnecessary,” he said as I fetched a pair of panties out of my bag and slipped them on before getting on the bed.
“Said the person who won’t be sitting cross-legged,” I said as I got into position, my guitar on my lap.
I strummed for a long time, getting comfortable being watched and listened to. But as I transitioned to this sexy song about ‘connecting the dots’ with your lover, I started to sing, finding it oddly appropriate for us at that moment.
It wasn’t until I was done that I looked up, finding him watching me, head tipped toward his shoulder, his eyes holding something that felt weighty and significant, but I wouldn’t let myself consider what it might be.
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head a little like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around something.
“I could teach you,” I said, feeling strange, like he might be able to tell I had that warm feeling in my chest, that swirly sensation in my belly.
“To play guitar?” he asked, brows raising.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “It’s not that hard,” I added, going up on my knees to make my way to the head of the bed, then placing my most prized possession in his lap.
I spent the next few hours showing him the basics, and wasn’t the least bit surprised with how quickly he started to pick it up.
“Hey, Finn?”
“Yeah?” he asked, looking over at me.
“You need to feed me now,” I told him, placing a hand on my grumbling stomach.
“Sounds good,” he agreed, carefully placing the guitar down, then pulling on pants as I pulled on a tee, before we both made our way into the main area of the house. “I’ll cook. You—“
“Pick the music,” I filled in.
As the music filtered through the house and I stood there watching Finn cook dinner, a little voice in my head said that I wouldn’t mind a million more days just like this one.
