“Three,” he corrects. “At a minimum.”
“Three,” I agree because he seems confident. “Where would you like me?”
Finn jerks his chin toward the bed. “Sit on the edge.”
I make sure not to slouch as I settle on the mattress and briefly wonder if good posture assists in achieving orgasms. I’m about to pose this question out loud when I meet Finn’s stare.
There’s some intense emotion on his face, but I always have trouble reading feelings from faces.
This one is starvation, maybe?
“Are you hungry?” I ask. “There were still plenty of brownies. I could get you one.”
Finn closes his eyes, and I become fascinated with the long sweep of his lashes. What an impressive sweep. I’d like to measure the curvature. Can protractors be used on lashes?
“That’s not what I’m hungry for.” His voice rumbles between us.
“There was pie too.”
Finn laughs, a small puff of breath, before stepping toward me. When we’re both standing, Finn is only a handful of inches taller than I am. But now, he looms, towering, his dark hair flopping over his brow as he gazes down at me.
“Where can I touch you?”
Interesting.I assumed he would focus entirely on my vulva, but Finn’s eyes trail over more than the space between my legs.
“Neck down.” I decide, suddenly worried he might try to kiss me. That would do things to my brain I can’t even contemplate.
He nods. “I plan to use my hands and my mouth and tongue.”
“Yes. Fine. Good.” I shake my head, realizing how my rapid-fire words paired with his statement. “I didn’t mean those tomatch up, as in your mouth is only fine. I’m sure your mouth is exceptional. I amend my response to amazing, exceptional, fantastic.”
Finn kneels in front of me, pressing his fists to the bed on either side of my hips. The muscles in his forearms strain, making his scar stand out against his pale skin. I catch sight of his wide smile before he leans in to trace his lips along my collarbone. The highest spot I’ve allowed him.
There’s less air in the room. I’m unsure how that’s scientifically possible, but a moment ago, I was breathing fine, and now, I can’t seem to locate the oxygen.
“Let’s take this off.” Finn grips the bottom of my shirt, easing the material up and over my head. “Isla,” he groans my name.
“What?” I stare between the T-shirt Moira lent me and my bare chest. “I’m going to bed after this. I don’t wear a bra to bed.”
Finn sits back on his heels, staring. Again. Always staring.
“Are you formulating a strategy?” Maybe I should have provided notes on my pleasure areas prior to this starting.
The human reaches forward, warm hands clasping my sides while his thumbs press just under the curves of my chest. Finn holds my body in his determined grasp, as if he plans to lift me or pull my torso toward his. And all the while, he stares, nostrils flaring, breaths unsteady.
Oh good. I’m not the only one experiencing oxygen issues.
Without warning, Finn dives forward, latching on to my nipple and sucking the bud into his mouth. A storm forms in my body, originating from the single tip of my breast. Pleasure and wildness crash through me.
“Where can I touch you?” I gasp the question, berating myself for not asking sooner.
He lets go with a pop. “Anywhere. Everywhere.” The two words brush hot against my nipple, and then he returns to his suction, and I dig my fingers into his messy, damp hair.
Finn spends a stretch of time with my breasts, plumping them with his hands, licking and teasing my nipples. The hurricane of ecstasy he creates rolls downward to between my legs. He’s stimulating me without even removing my bottoms. When his lips offer another strong tug, I can’t help whimpering and rubbing my thighs together, craving friction.
“Spread your knees,” Finn commands, even as his grip digs into my thighs, guiding my legs apart.
Losing the small bit of pressure drags an insensible note of protest from my throat. Then, the man settles his body in the newly made space, and with a hand on my behind, Finn drags me to the very edge of the bed. Suddenly, my aching middle is pressed flush against his abdomen.
