Page 26

“Woah, you look incredible.” Finn’s awe-filled whisper draws my attention to where he’s hidden behind the door, looking at the photo wall above my dresser.

I’m not sure if he means I look incredible now or in the photos, because a good number of those photos are back from my modelling days and I really did look incredible.

But I’m going to put my money on him meaning now because his wide eyes are trailing all over me.

Going commando in the obscenely tight and tiny red shorts does absolutely nothing to hide what his stare is doing to me—a quick costume change to enhance the show was definitely worth it.

My cock had gone half-hard during my quick change, but is rapidly rising to the occasion.

It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy—my dick getting hard because Finn is looking at it and Finn looking at my dick because it’s getting hard.

Could be dangerous really.

“Get—get on the bed.” Finn struggles to get the words out at first, having to shake his head free of his lust to accomplish the feat.

I trace over the bare skin of my exposed abdomen, Finn's eyes tracking the movement like he’s hypnotised.

“Are you sure that’s where you want me?” Finn nods slowly as my fingers toy with the low waistband of my shorts, tugging them down to reveal a tiny bit more of my V cuts.

In a way, I’m lucky I was turned when I was at my physical peak. When it all went down I was getting ready for a shoot, so I was on a cut when I was attacked. Body mostly hairless—a real feat for a shifter—skin smooth and perfectly toned for all eternity. Well, a couple of centuries, anyway.

“Well, whatever you say, Finn. But first.” I reach out and drag him in for one more kiss, needing to have the taste of him on my tongue before we do this thing. “Fucking delicious. ”

I lick my lips and wink, sauntering to my bed with an extra sway to my hips.

Thank fuck I changed my sheets yesterday.

The unsexy and practical thought intrudes as I climb onto the bed, crawling into the centre with an exaggerated dip in my spine to pop my ass.

In the centre of the mattress, I stay kneeling, sitting back on my heels with my thighs spread wide.

The position has the tight fabric cupping my junk just perfectly.

Finn has settled himself on the chair in the corner of my room. The antique armchair is a beautiful old thing I’d seen in a second hand store I couldn’t bear to leave behind. Finn must’ve dragged it out while I was getting ready.

It looks almost like a throne. He’s gotten comfortable, sitting with his legs splayed, his elbows propped on the arms so his hands rest casually on his thighs, not quite touching himself, but close enough.

My hands coast down the outside of my thighs and then back up the inside, pulling the fabric tight against myself to show him just how hard he’s made me. The way his eyes laser focus on my dick feels incredible so I do it again, this time rolling my hips up with the motion.

Under his greedy watch my hands keep going, stroking over my stomach. I kind of wish I’d thought to put on some music, something to dance to. Without it, I’m left picking a beat in my head and going with it, my body rolling with the flow of my hands, while I feel myself everywhere.

Even without the music, I get into the rhythm of it.

It feels natural with Finn’s eyes on me, to stroke the planes of my stomach, trace the lines of my hips.

Without the music, I can hear his hiss when my finger toys with my belly button, dipping into the shallow hollow.

I can hear the crack of the chair's arms where he’s now gripping them tightly.

I can almost hear the thud, thud, thud of his heart that beats in time with my movements.

The air crackles and my hips arch, my ass rising from my heels as my hand once again slides below the band of my shorts. This time I don’t stop. I grip the root of my cock, angling it so it shoves against the red fabric, making it protrude obscenely.

“Stop.”

The single syllable freezes me in place. I don’t take my hand out of my shorts, just hold it still. My dick doesn’t get the memo, it pulses against my palm, eager to get the show on the road and show what it can do.

Finn’s eyes are dark, except for the ring of red blazing in them. They are intense, cataloguing every piece of me, claiming each one as his.

I swallow hard, a shiver running down my spine. I like that. Really fucking like that.

My pulse ramps with every second he makes me wait. I’m glad we had that extra blood because I really fucking need it right now. I should have had another one because I’m starting to feel lightheaded from it all. It feels incredible.

Finn peels his fingers from the chair, repositioning himself to get more comfortable. It’s the same as when we started, only now he’s completely at ease with his role here.

“Let go.” His voice is deeper than I’ve ever heard it. This isn’t the angry kitten I’m used to, the one who’s furious he can’t have his pleasure and have it now. Oh no, my kitten is now a lion. A king. Commanding and in charge.

Could he be any sexier? It’s like he’s everything I’ve ever dreamed about all in one perfect package. It's tempting to push the boundaries and see what happens if I get a little bratty. But honestly? I’m way too into this to not do whatever it is he wants .

So I let go, sliding my hands up in surrender, a smile curving my lips. Finn catalogues that too, eyes flashing first to my smile and then narrowing ever so slightly at my hands.

“Take your top off.” I must be in too much of a hurry because he stops me again. “ Slowly .”

Fuck me sideways. I think I might actually be able to come just from his gravelly commands.

My hands tremble when I reach behind me to rip the mesh hoodie from my body.

I’d like to say that it comes off as smoothly as I pictured the manoeuvre, but it really doesn’t.

The mesh catches on itself and for a second I’m trapped in the thing before I can fling it from me, sending it sailing across the room.

Finn, at least, doesn't seem to notice my fumble.

“Touch yourself again. No, only your chest.” He redirects my hand when I try to sneak it down to stroke myself again.

It’s fine, though. I can play his game. I’m happy to play his game.

I retrace the lines I mapped earlier, with a finger, a whole hand, switching things up as I go. I grope my pecs in both hands, and roll my nipples tightly between my fingers enjoying the flare in his eyes as much as the jolt of pain shooting through me.

I draw the moment out, moving back and forth on my chest, alternating between pinching and flicking the hardening nubs and soothing the irritated, flushed skin.

All the while I’m gyrating my hips like I’m riding a bucking bronco. My fang has broken the skin on my lip, and I can feel the blood pooling and then spilling from my lip.

“Reach one hand up. Behind your head.” Finn’s voice is hoarse, strained like he’s ready to snap. And we’ve only just gotten started.

I recognise the position he has me in. It lengthens my torso, putting me on spectacular display.

But that’s not what he’s looking at. No, it’s the thatch of dark hair in my armpit that has him enthralled.

My little Finn is a freak . I almost laugh at the thought, but manage to keep it inside, letting the joy blend in with the white hot lust boiling in me.

A delicious, irresistible freak . Fuck, I knew he was perfect for me.

In a mindless daze, he licks his lip and then rolls them in to cover his teeth. He’s hungry. He wants to bite me. Devour me. I feel it too. The ache in my teeth is just as strong as the ache in my cock.

Giving my bruised, sensitive nipples a break, I run my fingers over the hair in my pit. It captures his attention. He’s crossed over into the more primal side of his vampire nature. He tracks my fingers dancing back down my chest and over my stomach.

When they skim over a sensitive nerve above my scars, tickling me and making me shiver, he grunts roughly, baring his teeth. Not in a sneer, his fangs have just sharpened in preparation to feed.

My finger traverses the line between my hip bones, back and forth, my ass never ceasing its relentless movement, grinding like I’m riding his cock like I’m absolutely desperate to do. My dick strains desperately, seeking more than the paltry friction of my shorts.

I pull them down slowly, to the very base of my rigid, aching cock and let them snap back against me.

Finn’s gulp is audible, really more of a pained groan really, when I cup myself over the material, using them to highlight the obscenity of my erection.

There is a darker patch where my leaking head has pressed against them.

I run my thumb over the spot, shuddering at the drag of the material over my sensitive head.

He leans forward, hungrily focused on the damp patch.

“Off. Now.”

I don’t need any more invitation than that.

I shove myself up just high enough to shove my shorts down to my knees.

My cock weeps at its freedom, aggressively pointing in Finn’s direction.

It may not be the biggest cock, or have all the fancy features some beings are blessed with, but I’m still proud of it—I’ve certainly never had any complaints—and right now I am desperate to touch it. I don’t, though. Not until he says to.

“Get the lube. Get your hand nice and slick. Show me how you like it. Show me what feels good.” He’s finally recovered the use of full sentences. Or close enough.

“Anything you want, Finn.” I try for sass, but it just comes out needy and desperate.

Finn raises an eyebrow at me, leaning back. How the fuck is he so calm right now? I'm so keyed up, I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to put on a show worth watching.