Page 99 of Manacled Hearts

The moment it spills from my lips, Finnigan’s large hand covers my mouth and nose and I cry out into his palm, riding this blazing pleasure until my legs go limp around his body.

“Evie?” Maya’s voice is closer now and I almost jump out of my skin when Finnigan gives my ass a playful slap to urge me to get off the bed.

Now, that was… strangely intimate. Pair that with his panty-melting grin he’s giving me, and I might as well hand him my heart on a platter, because this man is going to take it from me whether I want to or not. Regardless of if he wants it.

And isn’t that just terrifying?

I push back the harsh thoughts reminding me that this is not my home, not where my father lives, or that all of this is temporary. I’m going to allow myself to bask in this bubble of pleasure and acceptance for a while longer.

Just a little while longer.

CHAPTER 22

FINNIGAN

It took me much longer to pry myself out of bed than it usually does. Took me even longer to shower, and especially brush my teeth because I couldn’t bear washing away Evelyn’s taste from my lips. Jesus Christ, that woman tastes like goddamn rainbows. Does that make any logical sense? No, it most definitely does not, but she has a maddening sweet and musty flavor that threatens to drive me mad.

Addicting. So utterly addicting.

The line is well and truly crossed. Seeing her touching herself with my name on her lips threw me straight over it. But having her tight, little cunt around my fingers, breaking apart for me as I was feeding fantasies she doesn’t know I’m aware of, pushed me so far away from that line, I’m not even sure anymore if it ever existed. But then I had to taste her pretty pussy too, see her naked beneath me, and that ensured there is no going back.

Question is, how far am I willing to go?

What would happen if I would get to sink my cock in her sweet pussy? Will I ever want to leave? Will I be the same man after?

Already, her strength, her determination, everything she is as a person has been picking away at my constraints. But watching her slip out of my bed, spent and disheveled from pleasure I gave her, cracked something inside me, shackles holding me back. I’m aware of them, but the crack let out shunned feelings. Pain, fear, I was expecting, but the loneliness tasted bitter. Evelyn changes everything, soothes and turns it all to rich sweetness without even knowing.

Twice, I stroked myself in the shower to settle this growing need for her. I came on the wall of it like a fucking teenager.

Finally, I emerge out of my bedroom and the smell hits me straight in the taste buds, making my mouth water. Blueberry and sweetness, warmth and… home. I inhale deep one more time to make sure I’m not making this shit up.

I know Nora didn’t cook, because I told both her and George, my permanent house staff, to take paid time off for the foreseeable future. So, Evelyn must be cooking.

Before I even step into the kitchen, a cheerful mini human slams straight into me, oblivious to the fact that her shoulder connected a bit too violently with my balls. I suck in a grunt and power through, because when I look down, Maya’s sweet little face is all sunshine and butterflies, her innocence vividly painted in her green eyes.

“Good morning, Finn!” she says with a wide, toothy smile.

“Morning, sweetheart.” I bend over and give her a kiss on the top of the head, my voice strained from the ache in my balls.

I rise and catch Evelyn’s gaze, brightened with amusement, her lips curled between her teeth as she bites down her laughter. Okay, so she noticed my pain, and this is her response.

Noted.

But noting this is bad, because my retaliation plan involves my tongue, fingers, and her begging me for release for hours.

I’m a doomed man.

She turns to open the oven door, and the delicious scent that fills the penthouse distracts me, so much stronger than before, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

“I hope this is alright. I was… umm… nervous.” she says shyly, wiping her hands on the sides of her black jeans. She changed.

“Nervous?” I narrow my eyes and take a seat on the other side of the island from her, at the breakfast bar.

“Yes, sorry. I just like to bake when I’m…”

“Nervous,” I finish for her.

She avoids my eyes like this is all so wrong and she regrets saying anything.

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