Page 50 of Madness Becomes Her

“Yes!” I breathe, barely unable to contain the eagerness in my voice.

“The entire time that your hand cupped your perfect sex, I watched. I studied. I wanted to be the one making you cry out.”

Oh, fuck.

I grow wetter as his hand finally presses my legs wider. “You’re not the Eleanor from before. That Eleanor wasn’t ready for the love I had to give her. This one is.”

This Eleanor is questioning if she’s ready, in all honesty, but I keep my lips sealed shut.

He foregoes pleasantries and wiggles his fingers against my entrance, which is pressed against the tea table too firmly for him to enter me.

Scooting back, I lean back on my elbows, gasping when he shoves two fingers inside. “Fin!”

His grin isn’t lucid. Once again, he’s the Mad Hatter, hosting tea in The Bog with chaos looming. Though this time, I’m the main event. The topic of conversation. The all-consuming tea being drunk.

His pace evens as he watches me lift and writhe against his hand, helping him find the perfect rhythm.

“You’re so wet here,” he says, his eyes watching his fingers sink inside my center.

Something about his innocence is more alluring. It has a fucked-up side of me wanting to teach him everything. To mold him into my perfect little fuck toy.

I shake away from the thought, thinking myself as deranged as some of Wonderland’s residents. When Fin’s hand grinds against my clit like he’d witnessed mine do, I’m a goner.

Lying back, I lift my dress and bare my breasts, playing with one of my nipples to add a bite of pain to the pleasure he’s wringing from me.

“So wet and perfect,” he breathes, still transfixed by my arousal, by the feel of my sex on his hand.

Moaning, I place my hand over his, using the leverage to drive myself higher and higher, riding him harder.

Leaning over me, he captures my lips with his in a spellbinding kiss.

Moans spill from the trees surrounding The Bog, and their mewling has my orgasm prickling to the surface.

“The trees like flesh,” he reminds me.

“Yes!”

“Are you going to come?” he asks, his tone gravelled and so fucking deep.

I nod frantically. “Yes!”

“I wonder what you’d taste like here,” he says, crooking his fingers against my G-spot unknowingly and causing me to erupt around them.

“Fin!” I cry out, coming undone like one of his spools of thread, the orgasm nothing like this morning that I gave myself.

Nothing will ever be the same after the Mad Hatter has made me come. No man will ever compare.

A rapturous moan spills from a tree, and Finlo grins against my lips. “Your head is always beautiful, but I like it when you scream my name from it.”

Shit!

Even when he’s not trying, Finlo undoes me.

“Anyone could’ve seen,” I realize, looking around.

“Best tea party I’ve ever put on,” Fin says, nibbling my ear.

I forget all about the possible audience, especially the man-cat lurking just beyond the trees, and turn my attention back to him.