Page 61 of The Finish Line

Before she can react to my threat, she’s off her feet and in my hold. Slick with sweat from my workout, she glides her hands along my shoulders, pressing her forehead to my bicep as I walk her toward her bed. “Is it too much to ask to take things slow?”

Attaching my lips to her neck, I bite down. “At the moment, yes.”

It’s when I lay her on the bed, and her hair fans out behind her that my cock jerks in warning. She gazes back at me, waiting, no more protests on her lips.

Jerking her skirt up to rest on her hips, I groan when I see she’s wearing leggings. More layers. Annoyed, I yank her sweater up to see lace-covered breasts and drag the flesh-colored material beneath her perfect tits, so they’re drawn together in offering. Regripping my dick, I resume my strokes, and she gazes on, rapt.

At the sight of her drawing nipples, I increase my pace, and with a few more frustrated tugs, I groan out my release, coating her breasts, bared stomach, and leggings.

Disappointment flits over her features as her navy eyes drop.

Good.

“You’re playing on a weakness we both have, Trésor.” Lifting her foot, I pull off her Uggs one by one and toss them over my shoulder. With the beast partially satiated for the moment, I kneel at the end of her bed, pulling both her panties and leggings down. She watches, entranced, as I run my hands up and down her newly bare skin while she sinks further into the mattress. It’s my voice that brings her gaze back to me.

“You want slow?” I run a finger through her soaked lips and am rewarded with the buck of her hips. “Fine, we’ll go slow, though I don’t see the fucking point because I’m not the only one you’re punishing. But since we’re laying down the law—” I press a thumb to her clit, massaging it briefly before taking it away. She hisses through her teeth, eyes flickering with impatience.

“Lover, boyfriend.” Leisurely, I rim her opening with the pad of my finger before I slowly push it in—knuckle deep. The sight of it, along with her neatly trimmed landing strip, threatens to ruin what restraint I have. My dick hardens, envious at the sight, as she clenches, wet and hot. Her eyes close when I twist it to beckon her G.

“Tobias.”

“That will do, too,” I say, blowing along her center, increasing my speed while using the ridge of my finger to fully prime her. “Not your fucking roommate.” I lick her soundly from center to top, sucking her clit briefly to earn my first plea. “The man in your life, your partner, your soulmate, your other half.” I dip again and jackhammer my tongue where she needs me most. She mewls in protest when I pull away.

“Tobias.” Her voice is laced with years of ache, and I feel every single day of our separation.

Heart hammering its own plea and fully erect again from just the taste of her, I tamp down my own need because there’s something I want more.

“I thought I would never hear that again. Dis mon nom.” Call my name. Dipping, I nudge her clit with my nose, and she bows off the bed. She needs this just as much as I do. Flattening my tongue, I smoothly lick her again and pull away.

Tossing her head back in agitation, she slams her eyes shut as I press in a second finger, filling her before nipping her clit.

“Who am I?”

She lifts her hips, searching for friction. In response, I hook her legs over my shoulders, ignoring my greedy dick as it demands its rightful place. But it’s greed I shove away, needing to feast.

“Who loves you, Cecelia?” I enunciate each word carefully, knowing they’ll bring her back to the first night I brutally kissed her in that clearing, a place that has since become sacred to the both of us. I want her to know that even then, I wanted her for myself. The way I still want her. I’ve been starving for her. But it’s penance I’m paying, for then, before there can be a now.

My needs don’t matter.

Not yet.

“Please,” she cries out as I continue to run my finger along her G, feeling the telltale swell. She rips at my hair, thighs quivering and squeezing around my head. I reward her with another long pull on her clit. Pulling away, I gaze up at her, just as she sinks her nails into my scalp in retribution.

“Slow,” I remind her. “I’m capable of slow. It requires patience. You think I haven’t suffered through the lesson of patience while waiting for the right time to come back to you? Waiting all these months for the day I could finally and fully give in to what I feel for you? All I’ve got now is time.” I savor the anger swimming in her eyes, her pebbled nipples, the flush of her skin, the swell of her body.

Rising from my position, I lift her top from her body as she pounds against my chest in protest, in an attempt to get me back to the task at hand, all traces of her own patience gone, her need taking over. I hover above her as she glares up at me, still covered in my release.

“You want to take things slow, Trésor? Is that what you want? All these years apart wasn’t enough? If I seem eager—” I let her hear the jealousy in my tone as I lift my hand, spreading my cum on her chest before sliding my palm down her stomach. “If I seem eager, it’s because I want to erase every touch that wasn’t mine.” I trail my hand down her body and press my essence between her thighs. At the moment, I’m at her mercy in every aspect of our situation, even in the bedroom. But it’s time to remind her that I’m still the bad guy, and forever will be the tyrant she fucked and fell for—and on this playing field, we’re equals. But her relenting to let me dominate is a gift I refuse to let her take away. The vulnerability that shines in her eyes, the emotions she’s feeling, the hint of helplessness is what I need solely for the purpose to let her know—in this physical way—she can still trust me as she has countless times before. Her pleasure is mine, and without it, I’m not the same man.

Fingers still thrusting inside her, I hoist myself atop her and press our bodies together as I gaze down at her with the culmination of the longing I’ve felt, hoping she can see.

“I love you,” I murmur and instantly see her eyes soften. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, so much.” Emotion threatens as I think about the collective seconds, hours, minutes, days, and years I forced myself to believe she could never belong to me again. Of how at one point, I knew I possessed her, that she was mine, and losing her cost me more than a broken heart. It cost me my sanity and my soul. “I can do slow, but don’t deny me my rightful fucking place.”

She grips the back of my head and brings me to her, kissing me with unspoken confession. Clasping her legs behind my back, she opens for me fully. Mouths molding, tongues dueling, we kiss for long minutes, and I rub my cock against her pussy and stop her just as she lifts her hips to allow me inside. Pulling away, I shake my head. “I’ll wait for you, Trésor, as long as it takes.”

Lowering back to kneel before her, I thrust my fingers in and suck her clit with fervor. Not long after, she calls my name, gripping the sheets in her fists. She goes completely silent as her body erupts, back bowing from the bed, her clit pulsing against my tongue with each wave of release, the glide of my fingers growing slicker and slicker as she floods my mouth. As another wave hits, my name bursts out of her, and the sheer force of it has my throat burning.

Fast breaths pump out of her as I milk the orgasm, savoring the taste along with the crash of emotion coursing through my chest. My act turns selfish as I seek more, feeding the rush. Only she can get me this high. Only she can make me feel this way. Only she can soothe the burn she, herself, creates.

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