Page 158 of Pucking Around

“What?” I push on his head with both hands but it’s like trying to shift a boulder. “You were supposed to be driving me home from work, remember? Little did I know you actually meant to kidnap me and drive me toyourhome.”

Not that I complained. The heat of our sexual tension was hot enough to fry an egg during the whole car ride. We barely made it inside his little waterfront bungalow before we were ripping off our clothes. We were ravenous for each other, fucking on his kitchen table, down the hall, all the way to his bedroom.

That was hours ago. Now his clean linens smell like sex and sweat and utter debauchery.

“I said you couldn’t handle me,” he warns. “I offered you an out on our first night together.”

I prop myself up on my elbows as I hold his gaze. “Oh, is that what you think? You think I can’t handle you, Kinnunen?”

He smirks, rocking back on his knees, his proud cock on display. The cut lines of his muscles are so sharp you could chip a tooth. His hair is down and wild around his shoulders. He looks utterly sinful. “You’re the one crawling away,” he replies in a total deadpan.

I take a deep breath and let it out in a huff.Oh, this is so not happening.Rachel Price is not going to lose in a battle of wills against Mars Kinnunen. Not so long as there is breath in my body. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Okay, big guy. You still wanna play? Fine. Grand finale. Get over here.”

I scoot down the side of his bed towards the bedside table, snatching up the bottle of lube. I’ve learned quick that it’s a must with Mars. He’s just too damn big to play safely without it.

“What are you doing?” he mutters, still on his knees in the middle of the bed.

“Get over here,” I say again. “Stand up.”

He moves off the other side of the bed and walks around the end. His massive frame looms over me as he brushes my hair back from my face with a gentle hand. “What are you doing, Rakas?”

Judging our size difference at this angle, I pop up onto my knees on the edge of the bed and flip the cap off the top of the lube. Squirting some on my chest, I grin up at him, tossing the bottle aside. “Come here,” I say, grabbing him by the hips.

“What is this?”

“You’re gonna fuck my tits and blow on my face.”

His expression flickers like a broken TV, changing so quick I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Cupping my face, he leans down, his gaze molten. “Mennään naimisiin.”

I laugh, one hand smearing the lube down between my breasts. The heat of his gaze is enough to set me on fire. I will never get enough of this man. He’s going to be the death of me.

RIP Rachel Price, dead from too much amazing sex.

I don’t knowwhat time it is. I don’t care. Our sexathon is finally over, and Mars is sated. His head rests on a pillow on my lap as I gently stroke his hair back from his face. One of his heavy arms lays over my thighs, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin.

“Tell me about this one,” I murmur, my finger stroking the tattoo on his shoulder.

He hums low, clearing his throat. “The bear?”

I turn my head a little, looking down at it. I suppose it’s a bear. It’s demonic looking, with a skull face and flaming eyes, exaggerated claws. But now I see the pattern of feathered pine trees. “Mhmm.”

“That’s Otso,” he says, his deep voice muffled by the pillow. “He is the spirit of Bear, king of the forest. Sacred to Finns.”

“And the skull demon wearing the crown?” I say, my hand brushing lower toward the middle of his back.

“That’s Tuoni, god of death, lord of the underworld.”

“This tattoo is important to you,” I murmur, my hand smoothing over his blackened skin. He doesn’t respond. Of course, it is. “When did you get it?”

“When my mother died,” he replies, his body still.

“You were seventeen.”

He nods. Pushing off my lap, he sits up, his massive frame dwarfing mine as he leans against the headboard.

“How did she die? You said cancer at dinner…”

“Yes. It was a rare brain cancer. She went quickly, for which I’m grateful.”

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