by Angela Lee
Finally, the campaign office was just ahead. The building beside it was lit as well. Surely, one would provide safe haven. She just had to get there. She pushed herself forward amazed that she was able to outrun these men. With immense relief she reached the campaign office and began pounding on the door. She screamed for Fin, praying that he was working late.
When no one came, she ran to the next lit building and pounded on that door as well. She stopped pounding to look in the storefront window which revealed some workman’s tools inside but little else. It was obviously under construction though she couldn’t see or hear any movement within. She frantically dug through her Gladstone as she screamed, her voice growing raw as she pleaded for someone to come to her aid. Heavy steps came up behind her. A sinister chuckle rang in her ears.
“Well that was fun. But not exactly the fun I wanted.”
Pan dropped her bag and spun around with her surgeon’s blade ready. Through gritted teeth she growled “Get. Away. From. Me.”
The ruffian didn’t seem impressed with her blade, probably didn’t even realize what she had. As he reached for her, she slashed his forearm instinctively.
“Fuck! What the hell!” Blood gushed in spurts from the wound. The bleeding man’s companions approached and roared with more laugher at the sight, too drunk to consider her a formidable opponent.
One moved in closer on her right and she slashed the air in front of his face. She shouted, “I cut your friend’s artery. He will bleed to death in twelve minutes unless it is addressed.”
“Twelve?” the bleeding man squealed. He pressed a hand over the wound, but blood rushed through his fingers.
An Irish brogue spoke from her right, “Easy sweetheart, it’s just a nick. Get em’ shaving all the time.” Pan swung the blade toward him. As if on cue the bleeder passed out. Every head turned at the sound of his body thudding to the street.
“Not a nick,” she said drily, forcing herself to sound indifferent and assertive. “I severed that man’s artery.” Had the door behind her just opened? “He has lost consciousness due to the arterial blood loss, in two minutes his kidneys will fail. In nine,” she shrugged, “now eight minutes, he will be dead.”
Her peripheral vision detected light from what must be the now open doorway behind her. Every other physical sense prickled with the understanding that someone was behind her as well. As if to prove her senses were correct a low voice drawled and masculine arms slid up her arms from behind, “That is certainly a morbid and exact description of what is to come.”
A breath of relief whooshed from her lungs and expelled from her in a cry. Without thought she spun around, throwing herself into the broad chest of the man behind her without even seeing his face. But she had heard his voice, and she knew, with every ounce of her being that it was Fin. Perhaps she had known before he had even spoken.
Every sense of propriety was thrown to the wayside in that moment. She was perfectly content to allow him to be her champion… again. Her hands fisted his coat front and she buried herself against him. Her hero cautiously reached for one of those small fists, the one that pointed her weapon perilously close to his throat.
Her relief was short lived as Fin twisted with her in his arms, stationing her behind him. His cousin Alexandre gave her a thoughtful glance and stepped beside his cousin. She thought she heard the cousin mutter something about a new plan. Both men were tense and ready to do battle.
Two of her attackers had already run off at the sight of Fin and Alex. Fin had the third man by the scruff of his shirt and laid a solid fist into his nose as the scoundrel cried, “We was just having a bit a fun!”
A roar bellowed from Fin as he slammed another fist into the man’s gut. The man doubled over clutching his abdomen, blood poured from his nose and oozed from his mouth. He wheezed, “Damned if she didn’t kill Davey!”
At that point the dead man, Davey, groaned and sat up perfectly alive. There was a collective intake of breath as the others looked in horror at the rejuvenated man.
“I may have exaggerated a bit about the artery,” Pan offered sheepishly from behind. “It’s just a nick really. Alcohol thins the blood, hence the heavy bleeding. Apparently, Davey isn’t comfortable with the sight of blood.”
Both Fin and Alex gave a snort of amusement.
Craving contact, Pan stepped forward directly behind Fin. She buried her face into his back trying to take a deep, calming breath, savoring his luscious coffee and tobacco scent. She touched her hands to his biceps to stay any further violence.
Alex spoke, “Fin why don’t you take her inside, let me clean this up. Shall I call the carriage?”
Fin turned and wrapped his arm around her, “No. I’ll see to it. Thanks Alex.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Fin ushered Pan inside his campaign building and into his office upstairs. Alex took his leave after they had sent Davey and his beaten friend on their way with threats of all sorts of violence if they ever saw them again.
Once inside Fin closed the door and clasped her face in both hands, “Are you alright? Where was Tom? I didn’t expect you to pass this way today. It’s not Sunday or Thursday. I should have been with you. Why were you out so late?” his questions came out in flurry.
Pan nodded but her eyes pooled with tears. He watched as her throat worked and she took small, shallow breaths. Fear was releasing its grip on her and she was coming down from the crisis rush. It looked similar to what a man experienced after a brawl. Almost.
She threw herself into his broad chest. He was rigid for a heartbeat, surprised by her forwardness; but recovered quickly. He inhaled her lusciously sweet vanilla scent and instinctively gathered her closer, his hands rubbing soothing strokes across her back.
“The bell rang. I needed to make up some tasks I had missed last week. Tom was at the bakery today. You didn’t answer when I banged on the door.” Tears trailed her cheeks as her random answers flowed in chaotic order.
His hands reached for the sides of her face, forcing her to look at him, “Are you unhurt?” When Fin had seen her there surrounded by those bastards, he had known a moment of pure terror. Like the time with Burns, she had defended herself against her abusers with her intellect and courage. She had not needed him to save her, not really. But she had stepped back both times and allowed him to champion her.
He would always fight for this woman Fin realized, this woman who was strong enough to fight for herself.
Her expression was a mixture of fear, relief and desire. That latter outweighing the others, causing Fin to wrestle with his next action. He did not move to kiss her though she seemed to expect that he would. Fin battled his own lust and waited for her decide what she wanted. He held himself still, forcing himself to be patient, allowing her confidence to grow.
Seeming at a crossroads between the passion she felt and reluctance to take control, she moved forward to press a shy kiss against his mouth. When her soft nuzzle turned fierce, Fin gave in to his own passion and met her kiss with his own. His full lips moved across hers in a heated rhythm; his tongue trailing against her bottom lip, tasting and suckling it until she moaned.
His mouth feverishly travelled the length of her throat, tasting vanilla on her skin. The sweetness spurred him to lightly nip and lick the base of her neck and then shoulder. He used his hands against her back to bring her forward, closing the distance between their bodies. He used his own bulk to walk her backward until she was pressed against his desk. Stepping even closer, his knees buried into her skirts as her legs straddled his thighs. He returned his attentions to her mouth stoking the embers of their passion. His hands held her waist but travelled upwards to cup the underside of her breasts. “I want to see you,” he whispered without leaving the kiss.
Pan stilled as if working through her decision. As an answer, her steady feminine hands moved to the dress front. Head down, at first timid, she began to undo the pearl buttons that lined the center at her neck. He watched, fascinated, as the
bodice parted to reveal the white skin of her bosom and unexpected black lace of her corset. She lifted her eyes by the second button and Fin watched her face as his hands glided over her front and down her arms to push the open bodice to the floor.
“Beautiful. You are so beautiful.” He let his fingers glide over the lace, unable to look away. He trailed his fingers along an embroidered rose that followed the curve of her breast. “This is pretty.”
He loved that she didn’t close the gap between them or raise her arms to cover herself. Pan waited as he satisfied the part of his lust that just wanted to drink in the sight of her beautiful body. He cupped her breasts over the barrier of her corset and brushed soft kisses against the delicate flesh of her neckline. His thumbs found her nipples through the lace and rubbed back and forth until they hardened into peaks under his caress. His hand followed the path of her bodice trailing over the lace that covered her navel. He began unfastening the hooks of her corset one by one, until he reached the top.
When their eyes met, Fin tried to communicate that he was giving her the opportunity to reconsider. She nodded and reached beneath his hands to slide the lace bodice off, leaving her in only skirts.
Fin sought her bare breasts with his hands, gently massaging the skin and running his fingers over her sensitive nipples. He bent his head over one and took the nipple into his mouth. He ran his tongue over the hardened peak and suckled it. Pan pulled his head closer and then sighed in pleasure as Fin moved his mouth to her other breast.
He lifted his head as Pan reached forward and began to unfasten her skirts, letting it fall, she stepped out of it and began to untie the drawstring of her petticoat. He watched as she undressed and reached to caress her breasts and kiss along her shoulder blade. He hadn’t failed to notice that again the lady was without drawers.
His eyes danced over her, relishing the exquisite portrait she made standing before him dressed only in black stockings, his eyes caught the familiar pattern of roses bordering her thigh. She went to unfasten the stockings, but he stopped her hand. He lifted her by her waist and laid her across his desk with her legs hanging over the sides straddling him.
Fin bent over her and stroked his tongue across her breast before kissing the valley between. He left a trail of kisses from her breasts to her navel and paused to lick and suckle a birthmark Pan had on her abdomen.
His hands slid behind her and under her backside as he went to his knees in front of the desk facing her. He used his hands to pull her lower half closer to him. Pan’s breath caught as he kissed the inside of her thigh. He brushed light soft kisses against the skin of one inner thigh, then turned his head and did the same to other side.
Fin pressed the same gentle feather kisses to the lips of her sex, letting them evolve into a kiss as passionate as any he would bestow on her mouth. She moaned and arched her back in response. He flattened his tongue to slide it across her feminine mound and pressed his mouth to her again using his lips to expose the valley between. Again, he swept his full tongue across the space, loving her immediate answering thrust.
He took his time pleasuring her, using his tongue and lips everywhere but the place she craved most. Pan had bent both legs and positioned her feet against the edge of the desk for purchase as she began rocking her hips in a slow rhythm.
“Oh Fin,” she said on an exhale. He finally relented and tongued her swollen bud, lapping and suckling it, changing his rhythm to find the pace and sensation she most liked.
Not leaving his tongue from its spot he entered her with one finger. He was aware that she had stilled; she seemed be holding her breath. He gently began to slide his finger from her wet heat. Another moan and her rhythmic pulsing returned. His tongue worked the pleasure point above her sex while his fingers slid in and out of her with increasing speed. He could feel the muscles within her sex throbbing, pulling him deeper; knew she was close.
Fin was usually a relaxed and patient lover. It seemed tonight that relaxed, and patient were the descriptions furthest from accurate. Pan’s inner muscles clenched around his fingers and she called his name in her climax.
In that moment, Fin fought an internal battle, forcing himself not to unfasten his breeches and take her on his desk. The sight of her writhing on his oak desk clad only in her black silk stockings, trailing her fingertips across her naked breasts and navel, and hearing her whisper his name as he pleasured her was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed.
He was desperate to be inside her, to pound his cock into the warm, pink depths of his goddess. She was innocent. He already felt like a damned pirate with his face between her thighs, he would certainly not take her virginity on his office desk.
Fin stood and leaned down to kiss the breasts she absently stroked. He stroked her face and said softly, “Belle, let’s get you home.” He offered her his hand to help her sit up. When she did, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“I don’t want to go home.” She looked into his eyes and said with certainty, “I want to stay with you.”
Fin closed his eyes. Every part of him was screaming assent, but this was not how he wanted her. Her first time should be perfect. On a bed at least. With her husband.
She touched his face with her hand, stroked her thumb over his Adam’s apple. She leaned in to kiss behind each spot she touched. Her fingers trailed down his neck to his shirt collar. With calm hands his goddess began undoing the buttons of his shirt. He reached his hands to still hers. She looked up and locked her eyes onto his. “Let me,” she whispered.
He relented, hating himself for not being able to resist, for not being able to wait for a more perfect time. Pan pushed his now open shirt back from his shoulders and down his arms. Her hands roamed the skin of chest, his shoulders, his biceps. She leaned forward to kiss across his chest. The slow, sensual caresses were driving him mad.
Fin picked her up from the desk and brought her over to a sitting area where he laid her down on a plush rug. She propped herself on her elbows as he removed his clothing piece by piece. She looked surprised when he sat down beside her, propping his elbows on bent knees, “Belle, this isn’t how I would want your first time to be. Our first time.”
“Are you saying you don’t want this?”
“Oh, I do. I would like for it to be more for you. Better. Do you know…what happens?” As usual with his lady, his typically articulate speech was disjointed. He sounded like he was the virgin. The broad smile on the lady’s face furthered the point.
“Why Mr. Weathers, are you embarrassed?” He reached a hand to her face and gave her a beseeching look. She reached her hand to hold his and smiled, “I am a physician. I think I have a good idea of how this works. This is exactly how I would like my first experience to be.”
Fin closed the distance, kissing her and laying her back across the floor, settling his body between her thighs. He trailed his mouth from her lips and down her neck. His hands skimmed the length of her body his thumbs skating the sides of her breasts as they passed. His mouth moved over her nipple and she arched her back in response.
His fingers in the meantime had found her core and had begun a teasing thrum, “Wrap your legs around my hips.” As she did so he pressed himself even closer, now teasing along her valley with the tip before moving to the edge of her entrance.
Pan pulsed her hips forward, bringing him inside her just an inch. Holy hell, it was sweet torture. His goddess was soaked for him and incredibly tight. He moved slowly, trying to be tender, trying to make this as easy for her as possible.
“Fin, I want you,” Pan moaned as she rocked forward again. He heard the desperation, recognized her need for more than slow lovemaking. “Please. Fin,” she pleaded while again arching forward taking in more of him.
His responding thrust was quick and deep. Her sharp intake of breath threw him into panic. He cursed himself for being a selfish bastard. He scanned her face, her eyes were squeezed shut, her brow wrinkled in pain. This was the not the look of
pleasure. She seemed to be clenching her jaw tight. He really was a bastard.
Fin kissed her cheek softly, feathering his lips across her furrowed brow until it relaxed, all the while holding the lower half of his body as still as he possibly could. “It gets better, belle. I promise. Or we can stop.”
Beneath him, Pan released the breath that she seemed to have been holding. She rolled her hips back and forth slowly as if testing how painful it was.
Once. Twice.
And then her breathing hitched and her sultry voice began to whisper his name. Over and over again she called for him as if in a litany. It was the sexiest sound he could imagine. It fueled his passion and he pumped faster and deeper. Pan’s arms wrapped around his back and her fingers trailed in random patterns as she continued calling him home.
Fin thrust his full length into her core and held for a moment relishing the closeness. Pan ground small circles against him, and he felt her inner muscles holding him tighter, pulling him deeper. He pounded into her in a manic race to meet her in climax. As she cried out his name one last time, he quickly withdrew and spilled across her belly.
He held himself up above her on his arms, dropping his head to nip her breasts a final time before rolling off her and onto his back. He propped up one elbow and looked her over, once again berating himself for his selfishness and being too aggressive. She had been a virgin and he had driven into with ferocity.
She was laid out on the floor, legs propped at the knees, arms thrown over her head, chest rising with deep breaths. Her head rolled to face him, she smiled, the sweet dimple showing, and reached to touch his face, “Nothing in medical school prepared me for that. That was incredible.”