Page 140 of Distress Signal

“Lie back.”

I reclined, my head resting on the pillows, legs straight out, arms thrown up over my head.

Finn uncapped the bottle.

“Want some?”

Nodding enthusiastically, I parted my lips.

“Good girl,” he grinned.

But instead of tipping the bottle over my mouth, he brought it to his own and took a healthy pull.

Then he grabbed my face, fingers digging into my jaw to hold it open as he spit the tequila into my mouth.

Finn let go, and I swallowed. The liquor—slightly warm from his own mouth, which I found incomprehensibly sexy—burned all the way down, settling in my stomach, stoking the fire already crackling in my core.

Before I could move or react, he tipped the bottle over my chest. The chilled liquid was a frigid contrast to my flaming skin. He dipped his head, running his tongue in a long line across my collarbones. Moving lower to my breasts, his mouth closed over each nipple in turn, swirling his tongue around them until they tightened into peaks.

“Finn,” I gasped when he pulled away, blowing air across the places his mouth had been.

Goosebumps broke out on my skin, and I shivered in anticipation of what might come next.

Tequila found its way into the hollow of my belly button and, eyes on mine, Finn lowered his mouth, sucking it up, tongue swirling the divot like it had against my nipples.

By the time he made it to my pussy, the cold neck of the bottle parting my slit and nudging my clit, I was ready to combust.

My back arched, the difference in temperature between the bottle and my hot flesh sending a delicious tremor coursing through my body. A breathy moan escaped me.

“Feel good?” Finn asked.

“More.”

With a chuckle, he obliged, tilting the bottle so tequilacascaded over my slit. Finn wasted no time diving in, once again repeating the flicks and swirls of his tongue he’d used on my nipples and belly button.

I was so keyed up from the slow, exquisite way he’d tortured each of my erogenous zones that I soon clawed at Finn’s shoulders and tugged his hair, neither of us caring when my cast clunked him in the forehead. I shifted my hips, angling my pussy closer to his mouth, riding his tongue until I detonated.

Finn slowed but worked me through it, gently tracing and kissing my clit.

“You okay?” he asked when he had his fill and I came down from the high.

“Amazing.”

Finn grinned and climbed off the bed. “Hold that thought.”

As he stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs, I marveled at his physique. His body wasperfect, the kind of muscles you only saw in magazines or online—never in real life. There wasn’t an ounce of fat to be found, each of his muscles hard-earned and perfectly defined. He was sculpted like an ancient Greek god, made sexier by the ink that covered his arms from wrists to shoulders and continued across his chest to the dip between his pecs. Light blond hair dusted his chest, disappeared across his upper abdomen, and reappeared darker below his belly button before trailing to his cock.

And hiscock.

My mouth watered at the sight of it—it’s thick, steely length, skin impossibly smooth despite its hardness. Knowing howfulland complete I felt when he was inside me.

“You’re drooling.”

Nodding at his dick, the tip of which glistened with precum, I said, “So are you.”

His grin was feral as he rejoined me on the bed, hovering over me and fitting his hips between my thighs.

One of his hands found my cheek, brushing back a lock of still damp hair.