Page 44 of Scythe & Sparrow
“If I want you to stop, just tell you, yeah yeah, rules, blah blah—”
“If youdon’twant me to stop, Rose,” he says with a dark smile and hooded eyes, “then you’ll keep your eyes on me.”
I swallow. “Okay …”
“Good girl,” he says, and slowly descends, his gaze unblinking until the moment he presses his tongue to my clit and moans into my flesh. His expression is one of both satisfaction and need, as though this is something he wants, but it’s still not enough. As though he’ll always need more. I know how that feels. That sensation is already embedded into my chest like a splinter that will never be pulled free. In just a few brief moments, I realize I might have sacrificed more of myself than I bargained for with this arrangement. Because I don’t know how I’ll be able to walk away from this once it’s over. And it’s barely begun.
I want to close my eyes, for just a moment, but I don’t. I can’t bear the thought of Fionn stopping. Not as he tears my panties at one hip, not bothering to pull them all the way off. He plunges two fingers into my pussy and I know I’m soaking his hand. He pumps them in a slow rhythm, and I moan as he seals his mouth over my clit and swirls his tongue over the swollen bud of nerves. His fingers curl, stroking my G-spot, and I whimper, melting further into the plush cushions. When I rake my fingernails across his scalp he groans his approval, a vibration that pushes me closer to an edge I’m not ready to fall over. I want to draw this pleasure out. I want to live in every moment of Fionn’s tongue lavishing my clit, of his fingers thrusting in my pussy. Of his eyes fixed to mine, dark and lethal.
And then he sucks on my clit, and I lose the battle to not fall from the cliff of desire.
My back bows. I cry out. One of my hands tightens around the edge of the cushion, the other around the back of Fionn’s head as I press him to my center. He has mercy on me when I close my eyes and forget all about his rules and demands. Stars burst across the black canvas of my closed lids. My pulse drums in my head. I unravel in Fionn’s grasp, and he chases every moment of my spiraling pleasure with his tongue. Only when he’s sure I’ve had enough and can’t take more does he lift his mouth away and slide his fingers free of my soaked pussy.
It’s a long moment that passes with just the sound of my ragged breaths between us. I still haven’t opened my eyes when he lowers my leg from his shoulder. But he doesn’t release it. He scoops up the other one, and a heartbeat later, I’m being lifted from the couch. When my eyes flutter open, his gaze is trapped on my parted lips. For a moment, I think he’s going to break his first rule and kiss me, but he wipes that thought away with a flicker of a smile.
“You didn’t think we were already done, did you?”
“I was hoping not,” I reply.
His grin turns rakish as he starts walking toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.
A single, unwanted thought passes through my mind, that maybe he’s right. Scratching an itch can turn it into an open wound.
I grip tighter to his neck and let him carry me away.
RECKLESS
Fionn
As often happens when I’m around Rose, there’s one question that wraps its tentacles around every other thought I have:
What the fuck am I doing?
It takes on a thousand meanings. What am I doing taking my patient to my bedroom? What am I doing fucking my friend?What am I doing—I swore I was going to stay away from relationships. A friendship is a relationship. There are rules in place, sure, but why the fuck am I not ending this before we start? I could have at least waited until the haze of lust had cleared so we could talk about this like two rational adults.
What the fuck am I doing?
I know what I’mnotdoing.
I’m not fucking stopping.
Not unless she tells me to. Not when Rose is lying in the center of my bed, her breath still unsteady from the way I made her come in the living room. And fuck, it was perfect. She tasted so sweet. I glide my tongue over my lips as I stare down at her now. Her tightpussy gripped my fingers as she came, as though her body was desperate for more of my touch. Her arousal coated my hand. I wanted her to watch as I sucked it off my fingers, but she seemed lost in another dimension of euphoria, and I couldn’t bear to break her away.
And that doesn’t seem like something a friend would do. A lover, on the other hand …
The doubts might still swirl, telling me this is an epically bad idea. I’m not a good person for her. No matter how badly I want to be someone else, I know now that there’s another side of me beneath those curated desires, and I don’t know how deep that darkness goes. But I don’t think I have the willpower to resist her. She’s so fucking beautiful as she sits up enough to pull her shirt over her head, leaving her black bra behind. Her panties are already torn, hanging from the thigh of her unbroken leg, and she slides them off and then kicks them to the edge of the bed, her eyes not leaving mine.
“I thought you said you weren’t done,” she whispers. A slow smile creeps across her face. Somehow, she even makes that cast look sexy. It’s something about the way she’s learned to adapt to it. There’s a grace in her resilience that I find intoxicating.
“I’m not done,” I say, though I don’t move an inch closer, not even when her legs drop open like a dare. “I’m just …”
“Hesitating?”
“Taking my time.”
“So … hesitating.”
“I prefer ‘making the most of it,’” I say.
