Chapter Thirty-Four
Fin
Sometime during the night, nature calls, and as I swing my legs from the warm cocoon of the bedding, a strong arm appears around my waist.
‘Don’t go.’ Rory’s voice is thick with sleep and something else; something I find hard to place.
‘I need to go,’ I reply, whispering in the darkness, though for whose benefit I’m not sure.
‘Go?’ His grip on my waist tightens.
‘Nature calls.’
‘You’re coming back?’ A crack in his composure; those three words stripping him bare. I don’t need his further clarification; don’t need my eyes to adjust to the darkness to see his expression, though I’m thankful he can’t see mine. ‘I don’t want to wake up and find you gone.’
My stomach twists and my eyes burn as I take his wrist from my waist and bring it to my lips, placing a kiss against the solid underside. ‘I promise,’ I say, laying it against the mattress as I slide from the bed, turning back to look at him as I open the door. Lying on his side, eyes closed, Rory’s mouth is a soft pout, almost resembling a kiss. He looks almost sweet, like sleep has washed the man out of him leaving behind only the boy. I wish the sight of him didn’t make my heart feel so... full.
I wish I didn’t want him like I do.
His lips. His hands. His heart. All of him.
I turn away, swallowing the lump burning my throat.
When I come back to the room, he’s sprawled out on his back, his sheer size taking up most of the bed. I pull back the covers, slipping into a bed that smells distinctly of him, of shampoo and spice; of something earthy and very male.Of sex.
The mattress dips a little with the weight of my body, Rory’s arm reaching for me and folding me closer, my head finding a pillow in the hollow between his shoulder and chest. Curled into him, I slide my palm lower from where it rests against the kaleidoscope of colourful ink, down past the line of hair dissecting the hard planes of his stomach, where I halt, suddenly aware of where my hand is going. Doubly so as his muscles tense under my hand.
‘Don’t stop.’ Rory’s words are husk and need, his hand covering my own and drawing it further down his body. ‘Please.’ Eyes still closed, his chest rises with a deep inhale as he tilts his head backward, pushing his hardness into both our hands, hissing out an expletive as he tightens my fingers over his silken head.
I push myself up onto my elbow, his soft breaths now feathering my skin.
‘Yeah, like that,’ he says, directing the tempo, my hand still in his.
Sometimes you want something so badly, you almost try to forget all the hard stuff. The thoughts crowding your brain; the why’s and wherefores. The reasons you’re holding back and protecting your heart from further hurt.
And other times you just want to suck cock.
Right now I’m not sure which of these apply as I slide myself down his body.
Rory’s hand falls away as I position myself over him, kneeling between the power centre of his hips. Bending forward, I skim my tongue down his length, my body coming alive with his gasp—the sweet shock of it tightens my nipples, sensation taut between my legs.
‘Fin.’ My name is a whispered plea, his hands bunching and then opening against the bed in an effort of restraint. ‘Take me in your mouth,’ he whispers hoarsely, following it up with a more desperate, and even sweeter to my ears, ‘Please.’
Rory releases a groan settled somewhere between torture and delight as I push my lips over the smooth head. His hips lift and his body twists as though almost pained as I take my lips almost to the base of him. I work him slowly, my technique all tight lips and sloppy tongue. I push my mouth down over the slick hardness of him, again and again, using my hand to grip his base as I lick, swirl, and lap.
As I fuck him with my mouth.
Increasing my rhythm, his movements become more erratic as he grates out a harsh sounding curse.
‘Fuck.’ It’s more statement than swear word. ‘Oh, Jesus Christ, I’m so fucked.’
I’m so turned on that I can affect him this way, that the intimacy of having him in my mouth strips him so bare. Hips flexing, he finally pushes his hands into my hair and, without warning or apology, comes thickly in my mouth.
‘Christ almighty, I think my heart almost burst.’ Palms flat against his corded thighs, I start to giggle and the next thing I know my chest is flush with his. ‘I’m serious,’ he says, his gaze not serious at all. Chest to chest, his words vibrate through us both. ‘I think my heart might’ve stopped.’
‘Good job I know CPR.’
‘You kissed the life right out of me.’
