Page 63 of Protecting His Finch

He pins my head back and licks my throat. Collarbone to chin. His tongue flicks over my bottom lip and makes me shudder.

The way he consumes me—it’s feral. Raw hunger. He’s claiming me the way an animal might, and I melt for it.

He backs me up against the wall, away from the heavy pelt of the shower. Here, Archer drops to his knees in front of me. Before I know it, he hooks my leg over his shoulder, holding me to him. I feel him nuzzle against my bush, and I feel the soft warmth of his breath on me. Then he parts my slit with his tongue, diving into me, and now I really can’t help but moan.

He pushes his tongue in deep. The heel of my foot digs into his back. He’s licking—long, full strokes of his tongue—and on the upward stroke, he sucks lightly. His lips on my swollen nub make my toes curl. I cry out as he repeats this method, over and over, until I’m dizzy with want.

He moans, as though tasting me gives him immense pleasure, too. The sound vibrates through me, and my thighs start to shake. He’s licking with slow, methodical movements that are designed to push me to the brink of my sanity, and it’s working.

I dive my fingers into his thick hair and pull at the roots. Each lash of his tongue sends a bolt of pleasure through me, like lightning. My toes curl.

“Please,” I beg, my voice too breathy even in my own ears, “please, don’t let me come yet. I want to come with you inside of me.”

I pull at his hair again. He gives me one last, luxurious lick and then stands.

My heartbeat is pounding between my legs.

Archer stands in front of me and closes his mouth over mine. I can taste myself on him. My own greedy desperation. It covers his lips, his beard.

He’s naked, having pushed off his trunks, and his cock stands rigid before me. I feel the tip of it nestle between my legs as he guides himself to my entrance.

I whimper and spread my legs further. I want him so bad, it hurts.

But he doesn’t give me his cock. Not yet. Instead, he teases me with the tip of it. He rubs it against the seam of me. He presses just the head of him inside of me, but no more.

I’m panting. My nipples feel so tight on my chest. I grip his arms, taut with muscle.

“Is this what you want?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I whine.

Archer cups my head in his hand. He pushes his thumb into my mouth, invading, and feels my teeth. I let him, opening my mouth wider. He is wicked and vulgar. His hands are rough, but I feel safe in them.

“Tell me.”

My throat is so tight, I could cry. “I want you inside of me,” I whisper. Then I correct myself. “I need it.”

My words have an effect on him; I can hear his breath shudder. He kisses me, deeply, and then—

He gives me what I need.

He pushes his cock inside me. It fills me so completely, I almost can’t catch my breath. I grip his hair, his arms, holding on to him. I’m overwhelmed by the thickness of him. How deep he goes inside of me. No matter how many times we have sex, I will always feel brand-new with him.

He moans when he fills me. Our bodies collide, hot and wet, slipping together. He takes a thick handful of my hair and holds me to him as he fucks me with hard, uneven thrusts.

We are animals. We are wild together.

I want to be wild for him.

I let go of everything holding me back. I scream, I dig my nails into him, and I orgasm with such force, it makes my entire body shake.

He comes with me, with a feral groan that makes my toes curl. His kisses are hot and passionate, and they cover my throat, my face, and finally my lips.

He’s ravenous for me. Even as we come down from the high together, we kiss messily, heatedly.

“I want to devour you,” he tells me in a low growl.

“I want to be devoured,” I whisper back.

---