Page 44 of Songbird
“Stroke it,” I whisper as I slide another finger inside. “Show me howIshould touchyou.”
He hesitates, and I frown as he dips a hand into the pocket of his sweats. It reappears with a scrap of red lace, and it takes me a moment to recognize the panties I thought I’d lost on the dock. When I finally understand, I whimper and slip another finger inside.
“Have you been carrying those in your pocket this whole time?” I ask breathily.
Finn wraps the fabric around his hand, then lifts it to spit in his palm. He wraps his fingers around his cock and gives it a featherlight pull. I match his rhythm with a thrust of my fingers.
“What do you think?” he says, voice strained and neck tensed.
“Oh, God,” I moan, driven mad by the thought of him getting off by rubbing my panties along his cock. “Do it again,” I command, watching him between glances at the mirror where some wanton woman who can’t be me is fucking herself with her fingers.
Finn tugs again, harder and more than once, and when I match my pumps to his pace, he scrambles to push his sweatpants farther down his heavy thighs, giving him space to thrust into his fist. His thighs are hard and thick as he fucks his hand, and my body rocks and writhes as I curl my fingers inside my core and coax myself to the edge again.
But this time, with my eyes on Finn as he pumps himself to climax, thick ropes of cum shooting up over his rock-hard stomach, I topple with him, core muscles fluttering and pulsing around my fingers, wet heat exploding and dripping down my thighs, sparks of light dancing over my skin. I come hard, eyes closed tight, pleasure racking my body until the waves recede and I’m back on the shore. My eyes flutter open and land on Finn in the corner of the room, breathing hard and staring at me with unleashed lust.
“I think I’ve got the hang of it,” I say, sinking into the pillows with soft-muscled exhaustion.
“Understatement.” Finn shakes his head at the mess on his torso, then looks back at me with suspicion glinting in his caramel gaze. “You like being watched, don’t you, Songbird?”
“I like being watched by you,” I say.
He growls and stuffs my panties back in his pocket before dragging off his shirt and using it to wipe himself clean. He crosses the room and cups my face before brushing my lips with his.
“You put on one hell of a show,” he says.
“Thank you.” I lift my head to return his kiss. “You did pretty well yourself.”
His mouth tips up. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” I look pointedly at his pocket. “Are you going to give those back?”
He smirks and kisses me again. “Fuck no.”
I throw my arms around his neck and drag him down to the bed. He falls onto the covers beside me, and I roll against him. “That was so hot,” I say. “Now I want to know what else you can do.”
I say it lightly, but I want to know everything. Every inch of his body, every thought in his head, every dream in his heart. The music in his soul.
He chuckles quietly and kisses me again. “That’s good information to have, Songbird, because I can’t wait to show you.”
fifteen
Finn
Iusethebathroomafter Rosie, pulling myself together under the hard spray of a cold shower. When I said I was a mess for this woman, I wasn’t lying, and now that the line between us has been obliterated, I’ve got a feeling I’ll be spending a lot of time putting the shattered parts of me back in their places, only to go back and be destroyed all over again.
I swing past the kitchen on my way to the loft, dropping a cupful of kibble in Dakota’s bowl before collecting a couple bottles of water, the basket of strawberries in the fridge, and a bag of dark chocolate chips from the pantry. I pluck a pink wildflower from the mason jar on the dining table, stick it behind my ear, and then precariously balance my bounty as I climb the ladder.
Rosie’s sitting on the bed wrapped up in one of my shirts, which makes the fact that she’s not still naked a little more tolerable.
She stretches out her arms with grabby hands as I proffer her snack. “I’m starving.”
I pluck the flower from behind my ear and tuck it behind hers, then arrange the food on the covers before stretching out beside her. “Thought you might be after that performance.”
Her skin, still glowing from her orgasm, flushes a pretty pink hue. “You were right. Thank you.”
She lifts a strawberry to her mouth, and I’m so mesmerized by her soft lips closing around the tip, then the shape of them as she speaks, that I don’t register her question until she gently pokes my shoulder.
“Finn? Are you listening?”
