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Finn grunts as he flattens his palm low on my pelvis and presses down hard—as he fucking feels himself too. “Good, baby?”

My eyes water. I remember when I asked a similar question, when he scoffed at it with such bewilderment, and fuck, I understand now. Lost in the lazy friction, the unhurried thrusts and grinds, the gently-building pleasure, I get it . “The best.”

“ Damn right. ”

I moan at his pleased tone, at the arrogant rasp behind it. My cunt ripples around his cock and he curses roughly, slamming me down a little harder, holding me still for a moment as I pulse and writhe with the beginnings of an orgasm. “God, I want to live inside you.”

“I’m okay with that.” Panting and gasping, I grab his wrists, nails cutting into his skin. “Can I go faster now?”

He grunts, licking his bottom lip, not letting me move an inch and not taking his eyes off where we join either.

“Finn.” I lean forward, disrupting his line of sight, smirking when it gets caught on my tits instead. Pinching his chin between my thumb and forefinger, I tilt it upwards, catching those wild, blown eyes with my own. “Please, baby. Pretty please. I need more.”

“Pretty please,” he parrots, half a tease, half a groan—and completely obliged.

His fingers dig into my skin, and briefly, I get distracted hoping they’ll leave marks.

Little pinprick bruises for me to wear like freckles, to make it easier to remember that this happened, that I felt like this, that it was real .

And then my hips snap forward roughly, guided by Finn in unison with an upward thrust, with a growled, “Fuck me, Charlotte.”

And I quite literally forget about anything but doing just that.

This time, as I pick up the pace and ride him, I don’t rush.

I’m not just going through the motions, just trying to get it over, trying to get out of my head, trying to feel something.

I take my time and I keep my eyes locked on Finn, locked with his, and I skim my fingertips over every inch of skin I can reach, I feel the slow drag of every inch of him inside of me, I feel everything, so much, too much , yet not enough at all.

The build of my orgasm is a deliciously slow, unfamiliar thing.

I cup the nape of Finn’s neck as it crests, trying desperately to ground myself against the growing intensity.

Our pants mingle as I chase it down, and when I cry out, Finn swallows the noise, but fuck, he’s not quiet either.

Fuck, the sounds . There are so many sounds, loud sounds echoing around the room, slick flesh and poorly muffled pleasure and the slap of palm against my ass, but I can’t find it in me to care, not when I have him in me.

“Baby.” He whimpers into my mouth, dragging his teeth over my bottom lip. “I don’t know what to do with how much I—”

If he finishes that sentence, I don’t hear it. It’s lost over the rush of blood in my ears, over my low, rasping moan as I come so hard, I think I might actually black out for a second.

Except I know that I don’t because I feel Finn come, and somehow, I come again with him.

I tremble and shake and whine as he spills himself inside of me, he spills himself outside of me, dripping down my thighs, making a mess of our laps, but fuck, I’ve already done far worse.

He’s still coming when he bundles me against his chest, holding me close as close can be.

I’m boneless, I’m pleasure incarnate, as I slump against him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck, one hand palming the crown of his head as I slowly come back down to earth.

And as I stare at the headboard, my eyes start to water. A stuttered exhale has Finn reeling back, panicked eyes roving over me, locking on the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Fuck.” Calloused palms cup my face, that wide gaze dropping to where we’re still joined. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” I try to smile, and it’s shaky, at best. Watery, undoubtedly. “I just… I didn’t know it was supposed to be like that.”

I can’t describe how he looks at me then, in a way no one has ever looked at me before.

I can’t describe how I feel when he kisses my tears away, reverent and delicate in a way no one has ever been to me before.

I can’t describe how it’s possible that, even as I weep for the angry young girl who maybe would’ve been better if she had something like this, I burn for the man who finally gave it to her.

I roll my hips testingly, and he murmurs my name. I clench, and his cock throbs, hardens, wants to give me the more I request, but Finn hesitates. He licks his bottom lip, tasting my tears, and that uncertainty grows, solidifies, starts to become something resolute that makes me whine.

“Please.” I drag my palms over his shoulders and as far down his back as I can reach, my fingernails gently scraping as I retrace my path and cradle his nape. “Please, baby. Show me again. Show me what it’s supposed to be like.”

In the blink of an eye, I’m on my back. Tossed further up the bed, bemoaning the loss of his cock inside me, moaning the next second when he returns with a fucking vengeance.

A fucking vengeance.

Spreading my legs wide, Finn pins my knees to the mattress as he pounds into me with slow, deep thrusts that hit the right spot every, single time.

Pleasure has my eyes rolling back into my head and I wish they wouldn’t, I fight the reaction, I don’t want to miss a second of the show Finn is putting on.

I want to catalog everything about him in this moment, the ripping muscles and deep groans that constrict his throat and the starving, rabid heat in his gaze as he watches his cock disappear inside me.

“You know why it’s different, Lot?” Dragging his gaze away from my cunt, he leans forward so his pelvis brushes my clit with every jerk of his hips, so my sensitive nipples drag against his chest, and I cover my mouth to muffle a scream. “ You know. ”

I do. God help me, but I do.

It’s too soon, but I do.

It’s fucking terrifying, but I do.

And I know that look on his face too, I have a name for it now. There are words for it, words that are on the tip of his tongue, words that he’s going to say, I know he is, so I gasp, “Don’t.”

He frowns. Scowls . Begs, “Please.”

“ Finn .”

“Just once.”

It’s my turn to beg. “Please.”

He swears. He doesn’t say it. He drops his lips to my cheek, and as he comes inside of me, I pretend it’s that sensation that triggers my orgasm.

Not the three silent words he mouths against my skin.