Page 66 of Lore of the Tides

For a moment, she felt shy.

Finndryl was so nonchalant and reserved, and Lore remembered, when she first met him, how he intimidated her. Regarding her from behind the bar; a predator.

But in the here and now, he breathed out, “My gods, you are so lovely,” and his words danced across her skin like a balm, smoothing away any anxiety wrestling beneath it.

She remembered that he was no longer that irritable fae from the tavern but simply Finn, her Finn, and he thought she was lovely.

His hand brushed over the downy curls at the apex of her thighs, and his thumb slipped past them, finding her bud with ease. Lore gasped at that slight brush of friction, and Finndryl’s eyes flashed with fascination blended with a liquid, molten desire. “Is this whatyou’ve been wanting from me, Lore?” He slid his thumb over the taut bud, in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing a whimper from her. She bucked her hips against his hand, craving more than he was giving.

He leaned over her and kissed her lightly on the mouth, at odds with the quick, maddening strokes he was unleashing on her.

His swirling fingers made her clench her thighs around his hand as it dawned on her that she was empty. “Yes, that’s what I want,” she said, shifting against him, seeking that feeling.

“Tell me what else you want.” His voice dipped low, demanding, his mouth pressed against her ear. He was going to keep teasing her like this until she gave in.

“Inside... me,” she managed to pant out. “I need... your fingers... inside me. Please.”

“Mmm,pleasesounds delicious coming from your sweet mouth,” he said, his lips parting into a smile against her own. He complied, pressing one finger inside her, and when he met no resistance, her body—how it ached for his touch—he slid in another.

She accepted him eagerly, her core slick, and he growled against her lips, sounding every bit the hunter. He drew his fingers out and then slowly pushed them in again before hooking them and finding that sweet spot inside her. He moved his fingers back and forth now, rhythmically, and pressed his face into her throat, breathing her in as if her scent were life-giving nectar.

Lore bucked her hips, the sensation of Finndryl’s fingers inside her driving her mad; she pushed the fabric of his shirt up and slid her hands over the taught muscles on his abdomen, then up to feel the contoured pecs on his chest. His skin was on fire. Or maybe she was on fire as heat was conveyed from him to her and her to him. She would have checked, but she’d thrown her head back into the sand, her eyes shut tight, at the feel of him.

Finndryl, gifting her sweet pleasure.

If just his fingers felt this delicious, she could only imagine whathis hard length would feel like, thrust inside her, as deep as he could go. But she couldn’t imagine it now, because his fingers felt good, so good. She moved with him, as he stroked her from inside, his fingers hitting the right spot every damned time.

So close, gods, she was so close.

She grabbed his wrist with both hands, holding it firm between her thighs, panicked that for some unknown reason, she would be deprived of his perfect fingers, of this indulgence.

“That’s it, ride my hand, Lore, you’re doing so good,” he praised, his breath coming out in pants.

At his approval, the current that had been building inside her, that precipice she’d been suspended from, released all at once, and she cried out; stars exploded behind her lids as ecstasy enveloped her entire being.

Her body twitched with wave after wave of elation as he coaxed them from her with assured strokes. Before the sound of her cry could make it past the stacks, Finndryl captured it in his mouth, kissing her through her honeyed release.

“My gods, Lore, you make the most exquisite sound when you climax.” He slid his fingers out of her and placed them into his mouth, tasting them. The side of his mouth quirked up. “I was right; you taste like marigolds, Alemeyu.”

Lore should have felt satiated, but the sight of him lickingherrelease offhisfingers, fingers that were just inside her, made her core pulse all the harder.

The view of him kneeling above her, his eyes heavy, glassy with desire, his beautiful dark skin glowing with lust as his locs floated in the water around him—he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She was sure of it.

She wanted more of him. Neededmoreof him.

All of him.

He stood up and reached out a hand for her to grab, intending to pull her to her feet. But Lore was starved for the taste of him.

She ignored his outstretched hand and sat up a bit until she was propped on her elbows, the sand soft and gentle beneath her, and gazed at his breeches. Like everything he wore, they were black and formfitting, and they were tied shut with a string. She eyed the ridged outline of him, proof of his desire, and she realized that she might actually die if he didn’t let her see it. It was only fair, after all; she wanted to know what sounds he made when he climaxed.

In one swift movement, she was on her knees before him, with the soft fabric of the strings to his pants poised between thumb and finger as she looked up at him.Is this okay?He nodded once in answer to her silent question, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

She untied the strings and had barely tugged his trousers down, when his length sprang free, jutting up, proud and eager. She had felt that he was large, had suspected it when he pressed her up against the bookshelves, butdamn.

She fisted his length tightly, marveling at the silken, hard feel of him. His burning gaze lit up with heat, and he hissed when she began to slide her hand up and down his length.

The sight of his pleasure worn so openly on his face made her own desire sing in response.

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