Page 54 of Finn

“Alessia!” Finn calls from downstairs.

“Alright, I have to go. I’ll call you when we get back.”

We hang up, and I toss my phone in my purse before making my way out of our bedroom.

“Jesus, hold your horses,” I gripe, walking down the staircase.

Finn looks like a kid in a damn candy store waiting for me at the bottom.

“You look pleased with yourself,” I say when I reach him.

Finn wraps me in his strong arms and places a kiss on the tip of my nose.

I guess we’re the type to do cutesy shit like that now, too.

“Excited for tonight,” is all he says before turning and ushering me out of the house.

“I still don’t get a hint?”

“Patience is a virtue, wife.” He opens the car door, and I slide inside.

“And what about me screams virtuous, husband?”

“You’ll love it, I promise.” Finn shuts the door and walks to the driver’s side, wearing a grin the entire way to the airport.

I guess we’ll see.

I’ll admit the private jet is a nice touch. This isn’t the first time I’ve flown private, but it’s the first time I’ve had a man bring me to orgasm on a plane. As soon as we’re in the air, Finn throws a blanket over us and leans in close, his hot breath tickling my neck when he whispers, “It’s been nearly eight hours since I gave you an orgasm, wife. I think that should be rectified, don’t you?”

I look around for the flight attendant who was pouring our drinks just before takeoff but don’t see her.

“Right now?” I ask in a hushed tone.

Finn lets that damn smirk answer for him as he glides his fingers under my knee-length skirt and trails them up to my panties.

“Can you keep quiet while I slide my fingers inside of you? You don’t want the attendant to know I’m fucking your hot cunt with my fingers,” he whispers.

Nodding, I spread my thighs, allowing him access to my center. His index finger slides my panties to the side before he plunges his long middle finger into my already wet core. He pulls it out and circles my clit a few times before entering me again, pumping in and out. The wet noises coming from his ministrations are decadent and I have to turn my head into his neck, biting down on the collar of his suit jacket to keep myself from crying out.

“Your pussy is so wet for me. I can’t wait to get to the hotel so I can fuck this tight little cunt and make you scream my name over and over. Fuck, you come so pretty for me, Alessia.”

A contained whimper escapes when Finn curls his finger and finds that bundle of nerves that sets me off every single time.

“Give me your eyes,” he commands.

I lift my head and his heated gaze locks with mine, imploring me to let go.

The second he feels my walls tighten, he slams his mouth to mine, swallowing my muted moans as my entire body quakes with intense pleasure as wave after wave of bliss rushes through me.

When I come down, he slides his fingers from me and swirls them in his glass of whiskey, sucking them into his mouth before draining the glass. I stare at him in disbelief, not quite able to form words just yet. This man plays my body like his own personal fiddle, and I’m too addicted to him to care. He rights my skirt and adjusts the blanket, then lifts his arm so I can lean into him. Something I’ve learned about Finn is that he's extremely tactile. Even in the small moments, like driving to the casino, he always has to be touching me in some way.

A limo picks us up from the private airstrip and we’re whisked away to our resort. Naturally, Finn booked the penthouse suite, which overlooks all of Atlantic City. It reminds me of the hotel in Boston the night of our wedding—the giant window overlooking the skyline, the white leather couches with white carpet throughout the living room. There’re two bedrooms as well, but unlike our wedding night, we won’t be sleeping in separate rooms.

“When we get back tonight, I’m going to hold you against this window and fuck you like I wanted to do the night of our wedding.”

“You say the most romantic things,” I let out a dreamy sigh before laughing.

Finn smirks. “You love it,” he says, then kisses me breathless.

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