Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
My head leans back against the round cushion at one side as he holds himself over me.
I can feel the heat of his body in the small, quiet, cool room. It’s a good if not a better replacement for the fire that is missing from the grate.
He slowly moves his knee between my legs until they fall open, and one of my feet drops to the floor. I flinch and move to lift it again, but his hand on my knee stops me and holds me still.
Finlay pulls back from the kiss and looks at me, his eyes burning with desire and solemnity that I understand as his serious dedication to his promise to be gentle, make it special, and take care of me.
Like on the hill with the poachers, I feel utterly safe. As though there are no doubts whatsoever that he will make sure I have everything I need.
I’m putty in his hands, and I don’t even mind.
He must find what he’s looking for in my eyes because he moves then, shifting his body down to the lower half of the couch. I wonder if I’m supposed to move, I tense my stomach muscles ready to sit up, but his warm hand on my belly forces me gently to lay back.
I surrender to him, letting go of all control.
Even when his hands slide up inside my dress, hooking into the fabric of my tights and panties, I don’t stir or try to stop him.
I trust him somehow, even though we’ve only just met.
I trust him as he takes the material and slides it down over my legs, leaving me bare under the dress, and letting my panties and tights drop to the floor.
He lifts the hem of my dress and pushes it up over my hips, exposing me in a way I’ve never been before with a man.
I’m left bare for him.
He’s so close I can’t help but blush, a million questions running through my head – do I look normal compared to other women?
Should I have groomed myself in a different way?
Does he like what he sees?
However, all of those questions are swept away the next time he moves – because his head swoops down right toward my pussy until his mouth is hovering right over my core.
I can barely do anything but gasp out loud, my hands gripping onto the sides of the couch cushions around me and squeezing tight against the shock.
His mouth on me – right on my lips, and now his tongue.
He is licking me, filling me with warmth and desire. A flush of electricity pulses between my legs, and….
His tongue finds something that sparks bright colors behind my eyelids, making a strangled noise of pleasure escape my mouth, leaving me pushing my hips up toward him in an involuntary demand for more.
His hands find their way to my hips, gripping me on both sides to make me feel supported and safe like it doesn’t matter how fragile I might be because his firm grip will keep me from breaking.
His tongue laps over me repeatedly, swirling around and making quick flicking movements over that one spot that sends sparks through me, making my hips buck, my eyes roll, and my head falls back against the pillows.
I don’t even have time to be embarrassed at the thought of his tongue on me like that. I can feel pure pleasure coursing through my veins and encompassing my entire body.
It’s so intense, but when Finlay shifts and moves one of his hands, pulling away from me for a moment, I realize I’ve been right at the peak of something. A wave has been building and building – and I hear myself groan sadly, not wanting that incredible feeling to be taken away.
A moment later, though, his mouth is on me again, hot and wet, and something else. It’s his hand, a finger working its way under his chin and over my entrance, stroking, spreading the wetness I can feel, and then….
Inside.
I throw my head back so far that I nearly fall off the couch, gasping and moaning.
Finlay works me with both his tongue and fingers, pushing in and out of my hole and then swapping so that his tongue is diving into me while his fingers work that bundle of nerves that respond to him so easily.
That’s the last push I need. I feel myself tumbling at high speed and then soaring, crying out, my hips jerking as I feel wave after wave of pleasure washing over me repeatedly.
And through it all, Finlay carries on until I start to come down and whimper with the intensity of it all, only then sitting up to watch me with those glimmering dark eyes of his.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Finlay
“Lunch, madam,” I say in a faux-British accent, with my best impression of a waiter as I place a silver dome down in front of Alanna. I lift the lid with a flourish to show her what I whipped up in the kitchen.