She watches me study her, curious and hungry. The white noise in my mind makes it difficult to process anything, and I focus solely on Finley, gleaming and gorgeous before me. Her chest heaves the closer I move to her center. I need to taste her, to watch her come apart, to hear her moan my name.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, but I’m not wasting a single moment you give me. I’m taking my time, High-flyer.”
My tongue presses her clit, working back and forth as my fingers slide in and out of her until Finley’s sighs become pants. My mouth slides down, my tongue replacing my fingers. I groan, overwhelmed by her sweet taste, her strong tug of my hair, the sound of her panting breath.
My finger circles at the apex of her thighs, the place she told me she needed me most the first time we fooled around. Finley writhes above me, her hands gripping my hair, moaninghard. My cock throbs in time to her moans, desperate for release.
I’m cataloging everything I learn about Finley Harris in service to my most important priority—making her happy.
“Fuck, Finley.” I sigh against her skin.
Her hands drift to my cheeks. “I’m ready for you.”
“Not yet, High-flyer, okay?”
She nods, and my fingers resume working her, alternating pressure and direction, never letting her adjust. Her mouth pops open, eyes clamp shut, hands dig into the cushion.
This image of her sears into my brain, and I know it’s a memory I’ll return to when I’m by myself. I’m spellbound, out of my mind, acting on pure instinct, unable to form a coherent thought.
“I’m taking too long,” Finley sighs in frustration.
Those words draw me back. “No, you’re not.”
“Zach,” Finley tries to interrupt, but I refuse to entertain the idea that she’s not perfect, that she’s not everything I want.
“Finley, listen.”
I rise and climb over her, my knees and an elbow bearing my weight. My fingers slowly trace back and forth along her cheek. Her vulnerable gaze guts me. I hate whoever put these shitty ideas in her head and those who did nothing to dispel them.
“I’m so fucking into this. You have no idea. So please, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to get back to my new favorite place.”
Finley catches me off guard, pushing up from the couch to capture my mouth. My arms loop around her neck, supporting it as I roll to my side, pulling her with me. We don’t break the connection, lips sliding, all while Finley squirms closer. The fruity coconut scent of her shampoo consumes my senses. It’s the backdrop to so many of my favorite moments—the first night we met, car rides to the gym, movie marathons on the couch, the first time Finley let me into her bed.
My hand dips between her legs, greedily moving in and out of her, desperate to make her come apart.
Finley sighs against my lips, a strained exasperated sound. “Zach.”
Her lips trail down my chin, my neck, igniting me with her slow descent. Her hips roll into mine in languid movements, testing my stamina to the point of pain.
I won’t last. I won’t last. I won’t—
“Finley,” I murmur, but she’s too focused on her task to register her name.
She reaches for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up my body. My hands cover hers, finally grabbing her attention. Her wide eyes stare at me expectantly. I ease her onto her back, to our original positions. She deserves someone to take care of her. To spend as much time as she needs to finish.
“If you need a toy, tell me, all right?”
I ease my shirt off, sending it to the ground as Finley bites her lip and watches me undress. My belt goes next, the clank of metal echoing in the room as I undo it. I slide my jeans down my legs until I’m left in heavily tented boxer briefs.
“I promise, all I want is for you to feel good.”
Her gaze roams my chest and abdomen, before lingering on my crotch. Her eyes drop to my thighs before snapping back to my face. No tinge of embarrassment shows on her features, only a gleam in her eye and a teasing smile on her lips.
“I want to come on your tongue, Zach,” Finley says, and fuck if that doesn’t do it for me. I want to feel her come against my mouth too. Her handing her trust to me turns me on more. Then my words finally register with her. “Wait—you have toys?”
I shrug, flashing a cheeky smile. “It seemed like you enjoy them.” I didn’t want to be unprepared if the moment ever presented itself. “At least it’s something I heard once. Ortwice.”
“Oh, so you’re an authority on what I want—”
