His stubble scratches against my neck, and he whispers something against my skin that I can’t quite catch over the drumming in my chest. I can’t think straight, but it doesn’t matter.
Fuck, I want him. All of him.
We stumble past the coffee table, knocking something over as we move toward the bedroom. Finn’s hands slide under my shirt, calluses catching on my ribs, and I gasp when I feel the heat of him on my skin. My breath quickens, and I tug at his belt, the leather warm from his body.
I need him. I need tofeelhim.
Finn presses me into the wall, his hands sliding down as he pulls my jeans off with quick, impatient motions. Then he grabs the hem of my shirt and yanks it over my head.
Cold air rushes over me, but it doesn’t last long. Finn’s body covers mine, hot and firm, the shape of him against me setting every nerve alight.
My thigh finds its way to his hip, and he groans, his hands grasping my waist. The need is fierce, urgent, and I can’t breathe properly as my body responds to his every move.
He’s everywhere at once. His thumb against my lips, his tongue in my ear, his chest pressing down on mine until I feel I might shatter.
Without warning, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my fingers scrambling for purchase. We stumble toward the bed, and when we hit the edge, I land in a sprawl, bare and greedy, half laughing, half breathless.
Finn stands over me, eyes dark and intense, sweat glistening on his brow, even though it's freezing outside. He looks at me like something wild and untamed, and I feel a flicker of hesitation. This is new. I’ve never felt this kind of hunger before, not with anyone.
Then he’s on me again, and my thoughts scatter. I claw at his shirt, desperate to feel him, and buttons fly. I feel his hands on me, everywhere, touching, claiming, before I roll onto my hands and knees, angling myself towards him.
“Finn,” I gasp out desperately. “I need you.”
His hand closes around my hip, thumb bruising deep, and he pushes in slow, making me feel every heated inch.
I grip the sheets, knuckles aching. My breath stutters with the first stretch, pain and pleasure braided tight, and I arch back into him, greedy for all of it.
He pounds into me, each thrust a wordless confession. Harder, deeper, he’s determined to punch his name into my marrow.
My cheek presses into the pillow, spit slick on the cotton. I can’t seem to swallow anything but him.
My own voice sounds strange, too loud, too needy.
His teeth graze the back of my neck, then he kisses it, and I want to dissolve into that gesture for the rest of my life. I want to be nothing but tongue and nerve endings.
He pulls out and rolls me onto my back before dropping onto the mattress.
I scramble over him and lick at the sheen of sweat on his jaw. Then I straddle him, feeling his bulbous tip grazing against my soaking wet slit once more.
I freeze, suspended, hovering over him, our breaths ragged, perspiration cooling my skin in the dim blue light. Everything’s raw and exposed. His eyes flicker up at me, daring me to back down, to run away from how much I want this.
I don’t.
I shift my hips, the satin slide of him against my slickness sending another tremor through my nerves. I’m running on instinct now, wild and reckless, letting my need crash over any last shreds of composure.
Finn’s hands come up, clutching greedy at my bare thighs. He drags me down inch by inch, until all that exists is the stretch and burn and fullness. It hurts so fucking good, enough to make me whimper, enough to make me crave every last inch.
His gaze flickers to mine, and he watches every twitch, every flinch, every slow surrender. He’s transfixed, hungry, and when he moans my name, it’s not just a sound but a demand.
“Fucking hell, Finn.”
I brace myself on his chest, bending low so my forehead meets his, careful not to break the spell. My nails dig into him,finding muscle and bone, and I ride him greedy and graceless, because grace is overrated and this is the only way I know how to take him: all or nothing.
He shudders beneath me, calling me his undoing, like the word could save him from shattering. I want to see him come apart, want to taste it, want to feel it inside me so deep it might never leave. I’m losing my own rhythm, pulse fluttering wild and desperate against my ribcage.
My thighs quake. His fingers leave streaks of heat as he claws up my spine, pulling me closer, until our chests smack together and I can feel his heart beating out the seconds before we both lose our minds.
The world narrows to the sloppy wet kiss of skin against skin, the whispered filth at my ear, the way Finn’s breath hitches every time I tighten up, drag my hips slow just to make him beg. He does, shamelessly, gorgeous and wild beneath me, and I could ride this out for hours if my body would hold.
