Page 70 of Lightness In My Dark

“Do you want this to continue?” I breathed out a wanton yes. “Do you want this to erase him?” My head shook. “Because I don’t want to do this to erase horrible memories. I want to make our own remarkable ones.”

I took hold of his shoulders to make sure he heard me. “Finn, I want the same.” My eyes drifted to his lips and back to his eyes. “I’ve wanted this since before St. Patrick’s.”

I planted delicate kisses all over his face and neck. He tilted forward, and I yelped and tightened my arms around his shoulders as he placed me on my back. He rolled a condom on and settled between my legs.

Staring at me, he said, “You’re beautiful.” My face colored. “It’s a shame you don’t realize it.”

This caught me off guard. My guppy mouth opened and closed, unable to find a response. Everything faded around us as we drank in each other. The tenderness of his thumbs drew circles around my hairline. Our lips found untouched skin. His arousal twitched between us, and my hips lifted, aching for more. I wanted to sate the rising heat from my inner thighs.

Finn drew back. “Someone’s anxious.” With a half-lazy smile, he said, “Let’s not rush it.”

I whispered an okay. Our mouths explored curves, tasted, and nibbled. The pace slowed, increased with desperation, and as quickly as it amplified, it lessened. His mouth covered my breast, a hand pinched and massaged the other, his teeth caging my nipple, circling his tongue to ease the pain. The pain and pleasure twisted my nerves, shooting to my core.

Finn moved lower and stopped, observing the tattoo on my left side. His fingers skimmed along the written words tattooed on separate ribs as he said them aloud. “Imperfection is beauty. Madness is genius.”

Knowing he disliked tattoos, I rested on my elbows to observe his reaction. Noting the tattoo, he whispered, “Most definitely.” He kissed lower until he found the other tattoo.

“A bird?”

“It’s a wren in-flight. To symbolize freedom.”

He looked at me with a genuine smile. “How à propos.”

After seconds ticked along, his arms circled my thighs, hands caressing my ass. Eyes fixed on me; his tongue trailed from butt crack to clit. My body jerked, contracting from the sensation, but he held me in place. As if I was a twelve-course meal, he took his time feasting on me, changing pace and directions. Head sideways, he sucked in my lower lips, dragging his tongue along the groove. I sank back, releasing desperate moans and tense desire, charmed by his devotion to the cause. His rattlesnake tongue teased my clit, caught it between his teeth, sucking it to sensitivity. Elation pumped in my veins, bucking my hips. Feverishly, I dug my fingers into his hair. Light kisses returned to my inner thighs, core, and clit. Then he buried his face, nose-deep, tongue running up and down, back and forth, sucking, kissing. Vibrations. I strained against the most incredible pleasure. Then I convulsed, hitting the depth of ecstasy, screaming his name.

Finn trailed kisses upwards, rolling over onto his back, pulling me on top. I laid on his chest to steady my breathing. On repeat, his hands ran through my hair, stroked my back, circling my butt. I looked at him and I couldn’t decipher his expression. His face glistened with sweat and my juices. Hair ruffled from my eagerness to come.

“From the earsplitting sound of my name, I’m assuming you enjoyed it.”

My forehead fell to his chest as I laughed after his snicker shook our bodies. I lifted to see him gloat, but he didn’t. His hand stroked my jaw. Fingertips polished my lips.

Embarrassed by his gaze, I said, “Stop.”

In an even tone, he said, “Stop what?”

“Staring. It makes me nervous.”

“I can’t help it. You’re a great kisser. You’re beautiful and adorable with a great little body… and your pussy is—”

I smacked his chest. “Finn!”

“It’s a delectable lava cake. A warmth oozing with sweet goodness.”

His mouth stopped me from a response, pressing into me. Mouth, hands, caroused each other, tenderness turned to cravings—affectionate and withheld—returning to softness. Raw emotions exposed and inflamed. My hips grounded into him, but he didn’t move. Finn rested his hands on my thighs as my core rubbed along his erection.

When I noticed he didn’t respond, I stopped and asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you not want to—”

“Of course I do.” He wavered before he continued to say, “But this is for you. You control it. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

Once I realized what he meant, I blinked back the burning tears, to no avail. Finn was giving me the control I’ve never had with sex. Conner took it all from me. He stripped me of dignity, control, and destroyed my body and emotions into fragile disgrace. Now Finn was handing me the power, and for the life of me, I didn’t know what to do.

Finn’s hands coddled the sides of my face as he said, “Don’t cry, Wren.”

He maneuvered us so he was sitting on an angle against the pillows, hugging me in a straddled position.

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