Page 22 of The Pucking Date (Defenders Diaries #3)

The elevator ride is silent but electric. His thumb strokes over my knuckles, a small, possessive gesture that shouldn’t make my pulse race the way it does.

When the doors open, he doesn’t pounce. No, Finn O’Reilly is far too controlled for that. He walks me down the hall, unlocks his room, and lets me step inside first.

I barely turn before his hand is at my waist, spinning me to face him.

His mouth crashes onto mine—hot, hungry, but still measured.

He’s savoring the first bite of something he’s craved for far too long.

His hand skims up my back and grabs my neck, and my entire body tightens at the anticipation.

I loop my arms around his neck, and for a second, he squeezes his eyes closed and shivers.

Watching that shudder move through him undoes me. But then he opens his eyes and is in control again. His hands stay high, cupping my face, fingers threading into my hair, not rushing, not fumbling. Just owning me, one kiss at a time.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breath ragged.

“Tell me this ain’t just for tonight,” he says, voice dipping to a slow, dangerous murmur, wet heat against my skin.

I don’t answer.

He bites just below my ear, then soothes it with his tongue. His grip tightens in my hair again, pulling my head back so he can look at me. “Tell me you feel this too.” His forehead presses to mine.

I nod. My hands are on his chest now, fingers splayed over his heartbeat. And I hear his words. Feel the certainty in his touch.

I kiss him instead of answering, and he takes my silence as agreement. His hands are everywhere. On my shoulders, in my hair. He drags my dress down and throws it to the side, his eyes lingering on my body .

“You’re not wearin’ a bra?” he snarls, palming my breast and thumbing over the stiff peak. “These tits…damn, darlin’…they’re bigger than I remember. You tryin’ to drive me clean outta my mind?”

He doesn’t know.

Doesn’t know how tender they’ve been lately. How my body’s been shifting under the weight of hormones I can’t control, how my breasts ache some mornings like they’re bruised, how my belly revolts at random, how I’ve cried twice this week over nothing but a tight waistband and the wrong kind of tea.

Even now, his touch is almost too much—pleasure braided with the kind of ache that makes me gasp.

But I don’t flinch. I lean into it. Because his touch makes me feel desired. Tethered. Alive.

I can’t tell him any of it yet. So I just tip my head back, breath catching, and say the only thing that matters in this moment.

“Take me to bed, Finn.”

Because I don’t want to explain the biology of everything that’s happening to me. I just want to feel him on me and believe, for one night, that I can want something selfish and soft and still be okay.

His hands drop to my hips. They are warm and hard and huge wrapped around me as he walks me backward toward the bed, his mouth finding mine again as he pushes me down, gentle but unyielding. He slips off his jacket and quickly undoes the buttons to his shirt, revealing his muscled torso.

I’ve seen Finn O’Reilly shirtless before, but he never fails to impress me.

Moonlight coming through the windows is playing on the ridges and planes of his muscles carved in stone.

And then his hands drop to his belt, unbuckling it, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down along with his boxers in one smooth motion, revealing his gorgeous dick, precum glistening on its tip.

Seeing his erection worthy of Mount Rushmore makes my breath catch. His eyes are burning into me, further fanning the flames as he fists his cock and gives it a few lazy strokes.

“Your eyes are wide, Red,” he drawls, voice low and lazy.

“Are they?” I manage, trying to hold steady.

On a hard, slow upstroke, he teases, “You seein’ somethin’ you want, sugar?”

I burn from head to toe, burn in my every cell seeing him touch himself. My pulse pounds. I’ve never been more aroused in my life than right now, my panties obscenely wet. It’s weird, we’ve done it before, but it feels like the first time.

I sit up, reaching for him, and he lets me. I place my mouth on the tip of his cock, tasting the precum, and he growls.

“That’s enough teasin’, darlin’,” he snarls. “Wrap those pretty lips around my cock and start sucking.”

And I comply eagerly, sliding his length into my mouth, one inch at a time, as deep as I can without gagging.

Then I pull off, swiping my tongue on the side of his pulsating dick, looking up at him as I take him back in, his hand fisting my hair.

He drives himself farther down my throat, grabs my head with both hands now, and begins to fuck my mouth.

He gives me a few deep thrusts before pulling back.

“I’ve had about all I can take,” he purrs, pushing me down on the bed. His hands and mouth are all over me again, trailing a hot path down my neck, collarbone, lingering on my breasts while his large hand slides down to my panties, feeling my hot center over the silk material.

“Did you get yourself off last night thinking of me, Red?” he murmurs against my lips, his fingers finding my soaked entrance. I’m already shaking when he slides a finger inside of me, then another. “Did you think of me fucking you while your fingers were playing with your pussy?”

“Oh God,” I moan, gripping his shoulders. “Yes, yes, I did. But this feels so much better, Finn. I love your hands on me like this.”

I suck in a breath as he trails a hot path down my ribcage, across my belly, moving down between my legs. “Good. Now spread those pretty legs for me, darlin’,” he growls, pushing them apart and putting his mouth on the inside of my thighs.

“Yes,” I pant, gripping his head, my fingers entwined in his hair, surrendering to whatever he’s asking me to do. “Please, Finn, please. Put your mouth on me.”

He rewards me for saying what I want with several long, firm strokes up my center.

My hips try to rise to meet his tongue, but it’s impossible to move with the way he’s gripping my thighs and pinning me in place with his big hands.

Time blurs as he bites my clit, then licks and thrusts his tongue inside me.

Overwhelmed, I sob, my cries mixing with his groans.

He catches my clit between his thumb and finger and pinches, tossing me over the edge and sending me into a freefall.

Rumbling in approval, his hand presses firmly on my center as the waves of an orgasm rush through me.

His strokes continue until the waves subside.

Then I hear the ripping of a condom, and the sound of him putting it on, before he slides his body up, his cock lining up with my entrance.

“You’re so fucking creamy, darlin’,” he whispers. “Ready for my cock.”

The head pushes slowly into me, and for a second, he pauses. His eyes find mine, like he’s making sure. Not just that I want this. That I want him .

I nod, throat tight.

He slides into me with one slow, deliberate thrust, claiming every part I’ve been hiding.

I cry out as my body ripples around him.

His thrusts are slow, powerful, exactly what I need.

His cock is big and hard and fits so right inside of me.

We kiss, long and slow, like we have all the time in the world.

“I want you, Finn,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat. “God, I need you.”

Stilling inside me, his hand brushes my cheek like I’ve just handed him something sacred.

“Then let me have you,” he murmurs. “Not just your body, darlin’. Let me in all the way.”

The smile he gives me sends my heart free falling. His body is huge, stretching me to the hilt.

“You feel good, darlin’. It’s so good with you.”

But I can’t focus on anything he’s saying, because another orgasm is hitting me like a freight train, rolling over me in powerful waves. My back arches while he swallows my moans. Then he pumps harder, letting me draw out the peak, and I finally feel the telling jerk of his cock as he comes.

We don’t move for what feels like a long time, and when he falls back on the bed and discards the condom, he pulls me to his chest, stroking my back.

“Sleep now, darlin’,” he whispers, voice rough around the edges. “Just…stay this time. You don’t have to be scared. Not with me.”