She leaned away and smiled up at him, wicked and knowing. “I think you need to be less clothed.”
He nodded. “Very much so, yes. Why don’t you start again while I do that?”
He caught her hand and pushed it back down between her legs, letting his own fingers sweep against her and feel her wet heat. She shivered and arched just a little, then parted her folds while he stepped away.
He didn’t know how long it took to undress. It felt like far too long as he watched her grind her hand against herself, lifting to her teasing touch while all the while she held his gaze. He only broke that stare when he tugged his shirt over his head. She sat up a little then, her fingers working faster and her breath coming quicker.
Good, at least they were both half mad with this physical connection. He wasn’t alone with it.
“You are beautiful,” she whimpered.
He smiled. “Beautiful? I thought you said I was pretty before.”
She nodded and her fingers increased their speed against her body. Her breath was short as she said, “Pretty is too diminutive. You’re built like a god. Like a statue.” She arched her back then and moaned, her body shaking as she came.
He swore and all but tore his trousers off. He moved to her in a few long steps and pushed her hands aside, sliding his cock deep in her clenching body, feeling her pulse with release around him as he began to stroke slow and steady.
She dug her nails into his shoulders, her cries of pleasure becoming louder until he caught them with his lips and devoured them like the sweetest dessert. She was unmanning him almost immediately, making his balls tighten with pleasure, his body ache with a driving need to release. He had to control that, control this. Make it last.
So he withdrew as her flutters faded and she relaxed against the pillows with a shuddering sigh. He slid down between her legs, cupping her hips as he buried his mouth against her slick sex. He lapped at the salty-sweet evidence of her pleasure, swirling his tongue across every inch of her slit and loving how she gasped and moaned and twisted beneath him.
He held her steady, building the pressure, the focus of his tongue until she stiffened again and the rush of pleasure coated his lips and chin. He lifted her more firmly to his lips, sucking her clitoris as she dug her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, pushing him away, releasing a torrent of mindless, senseless moans and cries.
“Please,” she gasped at last. “Mercy.”
He lifted his eyes to hers with a smile, licked her one last time and then said, “Giving up the fight already, Esme?”
She nodded and curled her finger to bring him to her. “Sometimes one must know when they’re bested.”
He felt intensely smug as he came to her, covering her, kissing her so she tasted herself on his lips. They kissed for what felt like a lifetime and he relaxed against her to enjoy every moment.
So he wasn’t prepared when she hooked a leg over his, threw her body weight and flipped him onto his back so she could straddle him.
“And sometimes,” she whispered, her expression wicked as she aligned his hard cock to her body, “One needs to know how to take their opponent off guard and obtain the upper hand in the battle. Like this.”
And then she took him inside in one long, slick stroke.
The feel of Finn’s body stretching and filling her own was just as powerful this time as it had been before. More so, perhaps because she was in charge now. He was hers, pinned beneath her clenched thighs. The fact that he could easily take back control didn’t really matter. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to do so.
“Am I your opponent?” he grunted, his eyes fluttering shut as she began to grind against him in circles meant to torment them both.
She nodded. “There is always an opponent.”
“Hmmm.” Those gorgeous dark brown eyes snagged hers and held. “Then how does one…oh God, Esme…how does one win this fight?”
The way his breath hitched and his words came with difficulty only served to arouse her more and more. This man was powerful and in control and she was breaking him. Making his veins in his neck strain, making his face darken with pleasure and the exertion of trying to withhold his release as long as possible. She wanted it. She wanted him dripping down her skin, tattooing her with his pleasure.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered as she put one hand on each shoulder and leaned in closer to just brush his lips with hers. “Because I’m going to make you come, Finn. I’m going to win.”
“Sounds like I win, as well,” he said before he cupped the back of her head and drew her in for a deeper kiss.
She drowned in it and him, her body clenching around his even tighter. She was already on edge, her body needy from two orgasms that had almost altered her orbit they were so powerful. Had any other man in her experience ever done that?
It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t think about that. She didn’t want to think at all and shoved it all aside to focus just on the pleasure, on the taste of him, on the warmth of his arms as they came around her and held her.
She was losing control all over again, the pleasure building deliciously between her legs at the spot where she ground against him. He lifted to her, matching her rhythm, pulling her to the edge. He seemed to sense when she was there, for he sat up, adjusting her into his lap, and latched his mouth onto her nipple. The sweep of his tongue over that sensitive tip was enough to send her to the stars all over again. She rocked against him, their hips colliding as the waves of pleasure rose and rose, never-ending, like the pleasure could be hers to ride forever.
But at last it eased, faded, and she collapsed against his shoulder, breathing as hard as she did after a difficult fight. He kissed her damp neck, whispering, “Such a good girl.” Those words made her clench all over again and he laughed into her flesh. “I’ll remember that. But right now, I think it’s time for me to lose this fight. Or win it. I still don’t fully understand the rules.”
