by Sophia Gray
As he began to pump that one finger in and out of her opening, she felt it all…and then her awareness narrowed down to the single point where his fingertip brushed the dampness of her. She started to move, keeping her mind on just that point. She felt, or maybe saw, the light of the apex of pleasure forming. Her body grew hot, and for a moment she felt like she was chasing the ecstasy, a teasing hope.
“Oh God,” she whispered into the mattress. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare.”
He didn’t. His hand moved faster as he found that exact place she liked most. He pushed his fingertip against it over and over again. “So beautiful,” he groaned. “You are so damned beautiful.”
“Finn…” She purred his name like a prayer. “Oh yes, yes!” Ecstasy, hot and voracious, cracked through her like a whip or a lightning strike. Maybe both. It didn’t matter—nothing mattered. It was a primitive sensation that drew sounds she didn’t know she could make from her throat. She buried her head against the pillow and cried out for him. She was flying, she was almost sure of it. “Oh! God, yes!”
When she came back down from the high, her body didn’t feel entirely like her own. Languidly she rolled over onto her back and reached out for him. He lay against her, his hand settling on her hip.
“That was good,” she whispered, not sure if she was talking to him, herself, or the sensual memory that she would treasure forever. She said a small prayer of thankfulness for the air-conditioning since a thin layer of sweat had formed along her front from being pushed against the bed.
He rolled over her suddenly, and she blinked. “Your turn now?” she asked teasingly.
“I am not done yet.” His soft mouth formed a mischievous smile and ventured down, and down and down, his hands slithering along the sides of her body like he was going to memorize her very shape. Anticipation built inside of her as he pushed himself between her slick legs and gave her an impish look. “I’ve thought about doing this,” he admitted.
“Have you really?” She wasn’t entirely sure she believed him, especially with that devilish air to him.
“You are all prim and confident and sure of yourself. Don’t get me wrong,” he said, laying a series of kisses that started at her knee and worked their way up. “I love it when you glare at me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him until he laughed, and she could feel the brush of his breath against her moistness.
“Yeah, just like that.” He gave her a quick, light lick, and her toes curled in a shock of pleasure. She was so soon off her first high that everything felt sharper, more brilliant. She started to shift back, and he placed a single hand on her belly. “I wanna see you lose control, Cora.”
Cora wasn’t sure she wanted to lose control. Going wild meant making mistakes, and mistakes meant a lot of time cleaning up your own life. She knew the look showed on her face because he pillowed his cheek against her thigh, keeping those big blue eyes on her. His hair was a blanket down her leg.
“What is it?”
“I like being in control,” she said flatly.
“Even…now?” He motioned between them.
“Especially now.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She clapped her lips shut and shook her head. Lust was quickly fading, and she started to pull away from him. He didn’t stop her, but he didn’t help her move either.
“Cora, I don’t know what happened, and you don’t need to tell me. But I want you to know I won’t let anything bad happen with you.”
“How can you say that if you don’t know?” She pulled her legs up to her body. She wanted to pull the long-forgotten robe around her body, and a blanket or two. She felt more exposed now than she had when he’d been working his hands over her. It was not a sexy feeling.
He slid up next to her but didn’t touch. He seemed to understand that she needed space. It made her think a little better of him.
“I’ve got sisters, you know. I can tell what the difference is between the ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ that means you should ask her anyway, and the ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ that means she actually truly doesn’t want you to pry.”
It was weird that she’d never thought of him as having a family, or sisters. What did that say about her that she hadn’t been thinking about him as coming from something? That made her a pretty crappy human being. Her shoulders hunched. “You make a very astute observation.”
He reached out slowly, and when she didn’t move back he laid a strong hand on her shoulder. She was transfixed by how warm he was, the striking difference in the hues of their skin. Silence blossomed between them, but it wasn’t the hard kind of silence that came with awkwardness. It was a comfort.
“Well,” he said after a moment. “We’ve got three choices.”
“Oh?” She raised her brow.
He ticked them off on the fingers of the hand that wasn’t currently touching her. “One, we get dressed and heat up the leftovers from dinner and watch horror flicks until the sun comes up.”
“That’s not a terrible idea,” she said.
“It’s not my favorite one, but it’s definitely on the table if that’s what you need.”
His words lifted a weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t known she was holding. Casual sex, for all that they called it casual, was filled with a hundred thousand expectations that could make it more difficult than it was sometimes worth. The fact that he was lifting those expectations made her shift until she could look at him more fully. “What’s number two and three?”
“Two is I can keep doing what I was about to do. Or, number three, I can let you take the reins.”
She thought it over, and he let her. God, she had expected a big bad criminal enforcer to just be the kind of hard-ass guy who grabbed a woman, threw her down, and did whatever it was he wanted to. He was, just like earlier, giving her the choice.
“I vote for option three.”
He ran his tongue over his lips. “Well, if you insist.”
She did. In a move fast enough to draw the breath from both of them, she pushed him against the bed and mounted him. His hands went first to her hips, but she plucked them off and pushed them up above his head. “Stay.”
He gave a teasing “woof” in response.
It was her turn to take her time. She wasn’t planning on a second night with him, and so she wanted to remember every little part of him for some lonely evening down the road. Her hands started with his hair, that long fall of inky black. She ran her fingers through it until it made a massive fan over the rich pillows. Then she leaned over him and placed a nearly chaste kiss on his brow.
“I had a dream about you,” she admitted, as she ran the fullness of her lips across his skin, softly and gently.
“Was it a good dream?”
“Would have been better if my alarm hadn’t gone off.”
He laughed, and the moment he did she pressed her mouth over his. She swallowed the sound of his happiness down, drank it like she could take it into herself and chase all her bad thoughts away. His tongue played over hers, dashing in and out of her mouth with quick practiced flicks that had the heat rising between them again.
Her hands moved over his arms. She could feel the raised skin of the outline of his tattoos, the ever so slight variation between the inked flesh and the pure. Her mouth moved from his lips to the wrist of one arm, and she used her tongue to trace the lines over the tender inner flesh until he was squirming.
“Tease,” he grumbled amiably.
“Yes,” she said without apology.
He is so wonderfully built, she thought as she let herself explore his arms, shoulders, and chest. The wide set to his shoulders, the fit muscles that bunched and moved with his every motion, all of it tapering down to a perfect trim waist. She pressed her body to his and remembered the fact that he was still wearing jeans. Well, that just wouldn’t do. If she were going to be naked, he was going to have to join her. She gave him one more kiss to drown in and then slipped down. Her m
outh made a quick line between his lips and that soft patch of skin between his belly button and his jeans. She made a figure eight with the tip of her tongue.
His lips moved beneath her, a silent pleading that made her smile. Slowly, she undid the brass button and then the teeth of the zipper to reveal the simple boxers beneath. The outline of his rigidness was perfectly clear, even in the near dark of her bedroom. She ran her cheek over the fabric, nuzzling him with a gentleness that surprised them both. With a tug, his jeans were on the floor, and a moment later the boxers joined them.
She took a moment to just look at him. The top of him was built like a picture, and the bottom matched. The long lines of his legs were strong, crafted by hours of walking around a shop or maybe even running from the law, she didn’t know. At the moment, she didn’t even care. His body, head excluded, was remarkably light in body hair. It made it easy to slide her hands over his legs and cup the perfect length of him.
He was so warm in her hands, long and perfectly straight. The broad tip of him encased in a natural slip of skin. She wrapped one hand around the tip and stroked slowly down, exposing the sensitive tip to the air. He groaned for her, and she reveled in the sound.
“You don’t have to be so gentle,” he told her.
She chuckled, and the sound was almost pitying. “I am well aware of that, biker boy. I let you have control. Now it’s my turn.”
“Is this you telling me to shut up again?”
“You continue to be perceptive.”
She moved her fist all the way down to the root of him and then back up. It was slow, but her fingers were tight. She took up a steady languid pace. It was enough to keep him swollen, but not near enough to build the pleasure that would bring an end to the evening. She watched his face as he relinquished himself to the moment. His eyes closed, and his mouth hung open. He was almost pliant.
When she was sure he was as relaxed as a man could be in his state, she wrapped her mouth over him. His eyes flew open, and he made a strangled sound of satisfied shock. Her mouth wrapped tight, and she started to bob her head up and down. He moved beneath her, but she used one hand against his belly to tell him to hold still.
It didn’t take long. Not after the delicate foreplay.
“Wait,” he gasped, “I—”
She didn’t wait; she moved faster, suckling harder. Her free hand slid from his belly to the swollen satin of the pouch between his thighs, and she started to tease. Her gaze flicked up to watch his face as he tried to stave off the peak.
“Cora!” he groaned.
She moved back just in time to watch him spill. Her eyes were riveted on the taut lines of his body as his hips jerked in primal abandon. The twitch of his cock as he expended his seed made her smirk. She stroked him through it and then the after spasms until he curled over on one side and told her it was too much.
A moment later he had a towel in his hand and a smile on his lips. “Was that payback?”
“Yes,” she said after a moment of thought.
He rolled his forehead against the pillow and sighed graciously. “Totally worth it.”
“Leftovers?” she asked.
He looked back at her over his shoulder. “What? You’re done?”
She looked at the shaft between his legs, long since grown soft. “You aren’t?”
He rolled over toward her and placed a kiss on her stomach. “What time is it?”
She glanced over at her bedside clock and the vibrant red numbers there. “Eleven thirty-eight.”
“I’ve got a few more hours left in me,” he rumbled as he dipped his mouth lower and lower.
She laughed, not quite believing him. Men liked to promise lots in the way of prowess. Few delivered, and even that was rare. She petted the top of his head, pulling a few locks of damp dark hair out of his face. “Promises, promises.”
The look he gave her was a challenge, and it drew a heat she hadn’t expected from her body. She felt the hungry tightening of her groin and lifted her hands up as if in welcome. “All right, biker boy. Show me what you’ve got.”
He did. There was no slow hungry teasing this time. He gripped her pale thighs and pressed her knees to the mattress, exposing her sodden cleft. His mouth opened wide and wrapped over her, drawing as much of her pleasure between his lips as possible. And then he started to lick. It was fast and hungry and wild, and her back arched off the bed. He dug his hands into her thighs and held her in place even as the pleasure welled up inside of her. She felt the pleasant bite of his nails in her skin.
His eyes rolled up to watch her, the hot light of challenge making them glitter. His lips clung to her in such a way that she could not watch his tongue, but God she could feel it. She gripped the pillow behind her head and wrapped one leg around his back until her foot was flat against the muscles there. She had hoped it would stave off the rush. It didn’t.
“Oh God,” was the only thing she could say, the only words she remembered.
He pulled his mouth away just long enough to say, “Not yet, Cora. Not yet.”
He was utterly relentless. Every time her high surged toward the surface, he pulled back. He trapped her in that delicious point between pleasure and desperation. Her skin felt too tight, too hot around her body. Her mouth was dry, but her thighs were wet. She no longer knew if she was struggling to hold him back or pull him closer.
“Finn, please!” she begged.
He lifted his mouth from her for an untold time, but this time he pressed his palm against her. Two fingers slid into her, crooking against the tender parts within until she was writhing. “Do you need it, Cora?”
“Yes! Damn you, yes!”
“Then do it.”
He wrapped his lips once more around her cleft, but his fingers did not stop their diligent dance. The wild feeling of being caught between the two sensations had her going from “not enough” to “there!” in a matter of moments. She fisted her fingers in his hair and rode the wild sensation of her second high with pure and utter abandon.
Her body felt too heavy and made of warm rubber. Indelicately, she flopped back against the mattress with enough force to pull the fitted sheet off the bed. She couldn’t quite bring herself to care. When she could open her eyes, which she was certain had been plastered shut by ecstasy, he was kneeling between her legs, looking utterly satisfied.
“What?” she asked.
“You look absolutely gorgeous.”
She laughed and waved a heavy hand in his general direction. “I’m pretty sure I look like a wet towel. By God, Finn, where did you learn to do that?”
He lifted a brow at her, and she sighed. He had admitted to loving women. Even if she were a jealous person by nature, she certainly couldn’t be bothered with that right now since she was reaping the benefits of his carnal knowledge.
He leaned over her and gave her another kiss. When he lowered his body against hers, she felt the heavy press of his tip against her opening, already swollen and ready.
“Oh really?” she chuckled, seizing his lip between her teeth for just a second.
“Did you want to stop?” he asked.
She shook her head. Maybe it was the endorphins of two powerful orgasms still pumping through her veins, or maybe it was the fact that he looked like some tattooed tribal god perched over her, but Cora was almost sure she could keep this up all night. The thought thrilled her. Hell, she thought to herself, he thrills me.
“Oh, no.” She wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him closer to her. “You promised to drive me wild.”
“Good.”
He used his knee to part her legs a little bit more. When he settled between her thighs, she became completely aware of the heat of his shaft, perched against her. He didn’t move, not at first. For a long moment, they just lay there tucked against one another, and then he moved.
He slid into her, inch by delicious inch. She felt her body part and accept him. Felt the languid thrust of his hips to push the very last bit of him into h
er until their bodies were locked in the most intimate of kisses. She wrapped herself around him and ran her tongue over the curve of his ear.
“Don’t you dare hold back now,” Cora snipped, setting her teeth to his ear. “Not after all those big bold promises you made.”
He chuckled, but he didn’t move. He stayed rooted inside of her so the tip of him touched the very back of her. “Woman, you are so damn demanding. You know that?”
“I do.”
He laughed and then gave a single teasing thrust. Both of them stopped talking. Feeling him inside of her had been a pleasurable ache. Feeling him move was bliss. He seemed to fit exactly how she needed him to, pushing against all those pleasurable places that almost never got attention.