“Mmm,” is all I’m capable of saying as he finger-fucks me like it’s a punishment. Except the harder he goes, the more I want.
I am definitely more than a little fucked up.
Just when I think I’m about to come, when I feel like I’m going to fall off that cliff of ecstasy, he stops everything.
“What the fuck, Finley?” I untangle myself from him and stand so I can face him and give him a piece of my mind. Quickly realizing Finn has other—more twisted—plans when he grabs me.
I do end up facing him but instead of standing, Finn tugs at me, twisting around our positions so I’m somehow lying facedown on the couch, his big frame kneeling on the floor behind me. It’s a good fucking thing this double decked couch is fucking huge or else my face would be smashed against the back of the couch.
“Give me your hands.” I don’t even hesitate—which, again, is fucked up—but I’m intrigued. Finley takes both of my wrists and places them behind my back, right where my ass begins.
I can’t see what he’s doing behind me but I hear the tell-tale sound of a belt sliding through the loops of his jeans right before I feel the leather strap imprisoning my forearms. “Is that okay?”
I think it over for a minute, all things considered I should probably be panicking right now, especially after everything that’s happened recently, but weirdly, I’m okay. So I nod, and he starts to move again. He places his big hands on my thighs, guiding me to kneel with my ass up and out and at the perfect height for his mouth but—
“Holy shit.” The words come out as a whisper when I realize what he’s planning, except my legging are on so—
The slashing sound that breaks the silence and the sudden breeze of cool air at the apex of my thighs tells me my leggings are a thing of the past.
RIP leggings.
“What the fuck, Finn?” When I twist my neck just right to see what’s going on, though, I’m even more pissed off. “A knife? You destroyed my fucking leggings and panties with a fucking knife? You could have hurt—”
My words and my anger dissipate in the seconds that follow when Finn lies beneath me, his shoulders keeping my legs spread and his mouth latches onto my pussy and all I can think about is how fucking good that feels.
Holy fucking shit.
With both of his hands on my thighs, spreading them impossibly wider, I forget about ripped leggings and knives at my pussy and just enjoy his very skilled tongue.
From clit to slit, he feasts on me like he’s a man starved. He’s never been one to express his feelings or… much of anything, really, but his moans and the occasional growl when his tongue intrudes inside me is enough to tell me he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
My shoulders are tightly pinned back, so movement on my part is difficult, which makes the whole experience even hotter. All I can hear is the sound of Finn’s mouth drinking up everything I have to give him. My heart pounds in my chest and I feel almost dizzy from it all.
I push back, seeking more—needing more—wanting to feel everything from his lips to his tongue to his cock.
It’s like he can read my mind and in the next second, he’s pushing two fingers inside me, curling them just right and reaching that perfect spot.
My entire body jolts up off the couch at the sensation. Fucking hell, he knows what he’s doing.
I kind of hate that he does, it means he’s got a whole hell of a lot of experience. That simple thought brings about a pang of jealousy that I’m not ready to analyze quite yet.
He curls his fingers once more, causing me to jolt again. His response is almost primal as he pulls me impossibly closer to his mouth, giving him a whole new level of access to my throbbing clit.
As his fingers relentlessly fuck me, his tongue fixates on my swollen nub. My blood begins to thrum, running through my body like uncontrollable fire, and I know I’m about to lose my mind with this orgasm.
With his free hand, Finn grabs the strap of the belt and pulls enough for my upper body to lift. My head tilts back, my hair spilling over my arms and ass. Finn is relentless. He fucks me with fingers and tongue, driving me toward the brink
I’m almost there. I can feel it taking over but it still feels just out of reach.
Then he curls his fingers and massages that sweet spot just as his teeth bite into my clit, and I’m a goner.
I don’t recognize the sound that escapes me. It’s both a cry for more and a scream to stop. It would be scary if it weren’t for the intense pleasure burning through my veins. I can’t breathe, I can't move. I’m frozen with the power of this tsunami of ecstasy that I don’t know how to handle.
Finley doesn’t let up. He laps up every fucking drop of my orgasm until I come again, the filthy sounds of his mouth another detonator to a smaller but equally intense orgasm.
It’s only when he lets me fall back down on the couch that he gives me a single soft, lingering kiss on my clit before releasing my arms and unbuckling his belt.
I’m panting, trying to catch my breath to no avail, when he turns me back around, pulls my body closer to his, and bends down to lightly touch my lips with his.
I can taste myself on him, and that light kiss turns into a battle of lips and tongues. Just when I’m about to reach up to wrap my arms around his neck, he’s gone. In the blink of an eye he’s standing at the foot of the couch, looking down on me with longing in eyes and my orgasm on his mouth.
I want to think he doesn’t regret what just happened, not while I’m lying here half naked and blissed out, but why else would he practically run from me? “Fin—”
I’m cut off by the ringing of his phone. He looks down and goes pale. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” He looks torn as his gaze bounces between me and his screen. I just nod at him, open-mouthed, and he disappears from the room, looking back once before the door closes behind him. I watch him leave the house via the feed on my phone, hating how twisted up I feel about everything.
I flop down onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. When will I learn?
He might say he won’t hurt me and maybe he didn’t mean to, but I should know better than to trust a damn thing any of them say.