She smirked. “Are you calling me a slut?”
He climbed onto the bed, looming over her but not yet touching her. “I’m calling you sexy. And bold.” He trailed the back of his hand over her breast, sending shivers through her, and then found the needy place between her legs and circled a finger over her clit, making her whimper. “And if being a slut means asking for what you want and not feeling bad about it, then I hope you are one. I hope you are selfishly using me right now to get off.”
She laughed, breathless from his clever fingers. “Oh, I’m completely doing that. Have you seen you?”
His expression went old-school Finn—all cocky and sly. “I have. I’ve been in an exclusive relationship with myself for a few years. I’m amazing in bed.”
“So I’ve heard. This morning, in fact. Glad I get to join in this time.”
Instead of teasing back, he groaned—and not in a good way. His let’s-do-this face switched to a scowl. “Shit.”
Her muscles tensed. “What?”
“Condoms.” He moved his hand away. “Dammit. I haven’t done this in so long, I don’t have any. I didn’t think—”
“My purse is on the side table. I have one.”
Relief flooded his features. “Thank God. You are the best girl ever.”
She laughed, and he rolled over to grab her purse. She took it from him and fished out a packet, tossed it on the bed, and then dropped her purse to the floor.
He kissed her. “I love a woman who’s prepared. I might’ve had a good cry if we’d had to stop.”
She grinned. “Crisis averted.”
“Now, where were we?” He slipped his hand between her legs again. “Oh, I remember. Right here.”
She thought he was going to roll on the condom and go for it, but instead, he took his time working her up even more, bringing every nerve alive, making her writhe. Then, when she thought she was going to resort to begging or threats, he shifted down the bed, put his hands on the backs of her thighs, and opened her like a naughty book. Before she could even process what was happening, his mouth was on her and her thoughts blinked out of existence.
Oh. God.
The sound that escaped her throat was borderline embarrassing, but she didn’t have it in her to care. Finn’s scruff was brushing against her inner thighs, and his tongue stroked over her like he’d been waiting all his life to taste that particular delicacy. Her head thumped onto the pillow, and her hands went to his hair.
He grunted at her rough grip, but she didn’t let go. If she did, she might break into a thousand pieces. The man might have been off the market for a long time, but his skills certainly hadn’t suffered. He had radar for her hot spots—or maybe that was her tightening her hold on him when he hit pay dirt—but either way, it was working for her. Slow and sensual, like he was doing it for his benefit more than hers—like this was a seven-course meal and not just the appetizer.
That was probably the hottest part of all. This wasn’t a serviceable I’ll scratch your itch first. This was I live for making a woman try to crush my skull with her thighs because I’m driving her out of her mind with my tongue.
She was de
termined to enjoy every second of it, to not go over too fast, but when he slid two fingers inside her and dragged his tongue over her clit, light exploded behind her eyes, catching her off guard with the magnitude of sensation. She cried out and nearly levitated off the bed, her hands going from his head to the sheets and gripping hard.
He made a belly-deep sound of pleasure, the vibration of it against her sex driving her even higher, and she almost launched him right off her. But he wasn’t having any of that. He placed a palm on her hip, pinning her in place, and shifted as his fingers continued to stroke her and push her higher.
“Finn, I can’t… Please.” The plea slipped out, but she wasn’t sure what she was begging for—a reprieve, more, both.
Her eyes blinked open, and she found him watching her—watching her come, watching his fingers work, watching her fall apart. Then his gaze rose to meet hers. Another wave of pleasure overtook her, but she couldn’t turn away. All the humor was gone from his eyes now. This was a man on a mission. A man who could tear her apart with one look.
“Finn,” she begged again, but she let him see it. Let him see what he was doing to her. Her eyes fell shut, and she rode the wave of the orgasm, her body his to orchestrate and out of her control now. Surrendered. Fully and completely.
Finally, when she was limp and melting back into the bed, he moved his hand away. But he swiped her inner thigh with the evidence of her arousal, and then followed the trail with his tongue, sending shivers to every part of her.
“Still with me, Livvy?”
She sighed. “So very with you.”
“Tell me you want this.”
She opened her eyes, finding him staring down at her, his jaw set, barely banked desire all over his face. That look said he’d die if she told him to stop. That look said he’d stop anyway.