Page 24 of Finn

"Let go, baby." He sucked my clit hard, his fingers pumping faster. "Come for me. I want to feel it."

The orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave—sudden and fierce and all-consuming. I shattered around his fingers, my whole body convulsing, his name torn from my throat like a prayer. He worked me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks rolled through me, murmuring praise against my trembling thigh.

"So beautiful," he said, kissing his way back up my body. "So fucking beautiful when you come."

I was still floating, boneless and breathless, when he settled his hips between my thighs. I could feel him—hard and thick and ready—pressed against my entrance, and a fresh wave of desire crashed through me.

"More," I demanded, wrapping my legs around his waist. "I need more. I need you inside me."

"Anything." He reached for the nightstand, fumbling for a condom with hands that weren't quite steady. "Anything you want. Everything."

I watched him roll it on, watched the way his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back, and something fierce and possessive surged through me. This man—this powerful, dangerous, beautiful man—was mine. All mine.

He positioned himself at my entrance and paused, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath mingling with my own.

"I love you," he said quietly. "I need you to know that. This isn't just sex. This is me giving you everything I have."

My heart cracked open. "I love you too. Now stop talking and fuck me like you mean it."

He laughed—a surprised, delighted sound—and then he thrust home.

The stretch of him filling me stole the breath from my lungs. He was big—bigger than anyone I'd been with—and my body had to work to accommodate him. But God, the fullness. The completeness. Like I'd been missing a piece of myself and finally found it.

"You okay?" His voice was strained, his muscles trembling with the effort of staying still.

"More than okay." I rolled my hips against him, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. "Move, Finn. Please move."

He pulled back slowly, then drove forward in one powerful thrust that made me see stars. Then again. And again. Building a rhythm that had us both gasping, both reaching for something just out of reach.

"Look at me," he demanded, and I forced my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. "I want to see you. I want to watch you fall apart."

He shifted his angle, and suddenly every thrust was hitting that spot deep inside me, the one that made electricity crackle up my spine. I cried out, my nails raking down his back, leaving marks I hoped would last for days.

"Mine," he growled, punctuating the word with a deep, grinding thrust. "You're mine, Chloe. My old lady. My woman. Mine."

"Yours," I gasped. "All yours. Only yours."

Something savage flickered in his eyes, and his control snapped. He drove into me harder, faster, his hips thrusting with an intensity that bordered on brutal. The bed frame slammed against the wall. The sound of skin against skin filled the room. I was moaning, screaming, begging—I didn't even know what I was saying anymore, only that I never wanted it to stop.

His hand slid between us, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing in tight circles. The dual sensation—him inside me, his fingers working my sensitive flesh—was too much. The pressure built and built, coiling tighter and tighter until I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel.

"Come with me," he ground out, his thrusts growing erratic. "Chloe—fuck—come with me?—"

I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me with a force that whited out my vision. I screamed his name—actually screamed it—as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me. I felt him follow a heartbeat later, his whole body going rigid as he buried himself deep and pulsed inside me, my name torn from his lips like a benediction.

We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync. Finn's weight was heavy on top of me, but I didn't want him to move. I wanted to stay in this moment forever—connected, complete, utterly and irrevocably his.

Finally, he lifted his head and looked down at me. His hair was wild, his lips swollen from my kisses, his eyes soft in a way I'd never seen before.

"Hi," he said, and the tenderness in that single syllable made my heart flip over.

"Hi yourself." I reached up and traced the line of his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble beneath my fingertips. "That was..."

"Yeah." He turned his head to kiss my palm. "It was."

He pulled out gently, dealt with the condom, and then gathered me against his chest like I was something precious. I nestled into him, letting his warmth seep into my bones, feeling his heartbeat slow beneath my cheek.