Page 47 of The Pucking Date (Defenders Diaries #3)

WORTH THE WAIT

FINN

T he second the words leave her mouth— let me love you the way you deserve —I’m done.

Done pretending I don’t want her. Done holding the line. Done pretending my world didn’t tilt the second she walked into that gym.

I drop the towel and grab her like she’s oxygen and I’ve been drowning for weeks. My hands fist in her hair. My mouth crashes down on hers. She tastes like regret, hope, and mine.

I back her into the nearest ring post, cage her in, and kiss her harder. Deeper. Like I can rewrite everything that went wrong between us with my tongue.

She moans into my mouth, soft, broken, and holy hell, I’ve never heard anything better.

“Finn,” she gasps. Her fingers are in my hair now, pulling, anchoring. “The guys are watching?—”

“Hmm,” I mutter against her jaw. “I don’t have a problem with that….”

My hands are everywhere, on her shoulders, in her hair. I’m like a man possessed, kissing her like she’s my oxygen .

“SWEET JESUS, GOLDEN BOY!” Jace’s shout cracks through the gym like a bell, followed by bellowing of the other guys.

“Didn’t know you had that kind of footwork off the ice!”

“Better check the ropes; O’Reilly’s breakin’ the laws of friction over there!”

“Is this the warm-up, or are we charging tickets for round two?”

“Yo, leave her some oxygen, damn!”

Laughter. Whistles. The thud of someone slapping a heavy bag for emphasis. And somewhere behind me, Jace drawls again, “Look at him, boy’s been starvin’. Ain’t touched his mouthguard, but he’s already goin’ mouth first.”

Jessica pulls back, flushed and breathless, trying to suppress a laugh. “We’re making a scene.”

“Yeah,” I say, still not letting go. “And I’m not sorry one bit.”

I give it five more seconds before I finally ease off a bit. My hands stay at her waist, thumbs tracing slow circles over her hips like I forgot how not to touch her.

She blinks up at me, cheeks pink, voice lower. “You’re sweaty.”

“You’re about to be.”

Her brows lift.

“You up for helping me shower?” I murmur, leaning down and biting her lip possessively.

She doesn’t answer. Just gives me a slow smile that wrecks me.

“Let’s go,” I growl, grabbing my bag with one hand and her hand with the other. As we cross the gym, the noise follows us like a wave.

“You go, Golden Boy!”

“Treat her right, O’Reilly! ”

“Wrap it up before round two, bro!”

“I need me a girl like that; mine only throws my shit out the window.”

“Y’all need to get laid,” I shout back, not even turning around.

“That’s what you’re doin’, ain’t it?” someone calls.

Jace whistles. “Go get her, Romeo.”

We step out into the late afternoon heat, the door swinging shut behind us. The air is thick, the sun low, and I’m already so hard I want to burst.

“God, you smell,” she says, wrinkling her nose, laughing.

I stop walking. Turn to face her.

“Yeah? I’ll let you pick—do you want me now, with my sweat all over your pretty skin or should I have a shower first?”

She steps closer. Runs her hand over my chest. “You.”

That’s all she says. Just you .

And it unravels something deep.

My voice drops. “Red…”

She hesitates. Then, “I have something to tell you.”

I shake my head. “Hotel first. Talk after.”

Her brows knit. “Not going back to your place? I left my bag there.”

“You won’t need a single thing in it,” I murmur, pressing her to the car.

She blinks. “Presumptuous.”

“Confident.” I grin. “My mom and sister and the twins are there. What I plan to do to you tonight? Illegal in three states and disrespectful under Vivian O’Reilly’s roof.” Her eyes go wide as I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Scream-all-night kind of plan, darlin’. You in?”

Her smile answers for her. She gets in the car without another word .

The drive to the Umstead is short. Silent. My palm stays anchored on her thigh the entire way, firm, steady, like I’m reminding both of us that she’s not going anywhere this time.

The hotel rises ahead, clean lines of stone and glass nestled into green like it was born from the landscape. Elegant. Private. Exactly what we need.

We step out of the car. A porter takes my keys without blinking, his expression smooth as marble. If he notices the gym clothes or the sweat, he’s either too professional to react, or too smart to care.

Check-in is fast. A keycard tucked into a velvet folder like we’re here for a romantic weekend instead of whatever this beautiful, volatile, overdue thing is between us.

I don’t let go of her waist once. My fingers trace low, lazy circles over her hip like I’ve got a claim to stake and no patience for ceremony.

The door to our suite clicks open. The scent inside is all warmth and wealth—sandalwood, linen, the faintest hint of citrus. Clean and quiet and a million miles away from grief and guilt and fighting not to want her.

The second the door shuts, I’m on her.

“Wait,” she whispers, hands on my chest. “Finn, I need you to know?—”

“What, Red?”

“I missed you. Every night. I’d reach for you, and you weren’t there.” Her words break. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

I cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t see coming. “You didn’t lose me, darlin’. You couldn’t. I’m yours, remember?”

Her back hits the wall. My hands hike up her dress. Her breath catches as I drag her panties down and toss them somewhere I don’t plan to retrieve them from anytime soon.

“Finn,” she gasps, fingers clutching at my shoulders. “We should talk—oh.”

“You were saying?” I murmur, lifting her leg over my shoulder and dropping to my knees, taking a slow first lick. Jesus, I missed her.

“Um.” She sounds dazed, as I find her clit and give her a gentle bite. “Oh, God, yes .”

Satisfaction washes over me as I draw her clit between my lips and suck. She grinds against my face, going fucking wild.

“It seems you need it bad, sugar,” I tease, continuing to feast. The sweetest taste, and she is finally all mine. I don’t hold back while I eat her out, until she gushes all over my face in a screaming orgasm.

“Finn, oh Finn,” she weeps, holding my head tight as I continue swiping my tongue over her pussy, drawing her orgasm out. I stand up and take off my T-shirt with one hand, push my shorts down, precum leaking from the tip of my cock.

Jessica is still shuddering from the throes of her climax when I grab her hips, lift her up, and line the tip of my cock with her entrance.

I’ve been on edge for weeks, and if I have to wait one more second to fuck her, I will explode.

Wasting no time, I plunge inside her. I tug at the zipper of her dress, dragging it down until the fabric pools around her waist, leaving her bare to me.

“No bra again, darlin’?” I murmur, eyes locking on her breasts. “You trying to kill me?”

She gasps as my palms come up, cupping her gently, like I’m afraid to press too hard .

“They’re sore,” she says, breath catching. “The pregnancy makes them ache. My bras don’t fit right anymore.”

I groan, low and guttural, dragging my thumbs across her nipples until she whimpers. “No shit, they don’t fit. Jesus, Red…” I glance up at her, wild with it. “You’re bigger. Swollen. Fucking gorgeous.”

Her head falls back against the wall as I lean in, mouth hot on one tender peak.

“I’ll be gentle,” I whisper, then bite—soft, possessive, just enough to make her moan. “Not complaining,” I add, voice wrecked. “Hell, I’ve been dreaming about these tits.”

I groan at the slick, tight feel of her pussy sheathing me. She wraps her hands around my neck, holding on while I pound into her, hard and fast and desperate. The wet, obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room.

“Finn,” she moans, scratching my back. “So good, baby. More.”

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you’re staying,” I groan, continuing to pound into her mercilessly.

“Yours. Always yours”

“You like it when I fuck you hard, don’t you, sugar?” I raise my head and kiss her, drinking in her taste, her smell, her moans.

Chasing my own release, I thrust harder and faster, covering her in my sweat and smell, until she is drenched in her own juices.

When I carefully close my teeth around her nipple and tug, she convulses around my cock with a scream, her heels digging into my back.

Her needy cries are my undoing, and I feel my balls tightening, lights exploding behind my eyes, my grunts mixed with her moans.

And I can’t tell anymore where she ends and where I begin. This isn’t just sex. It’s reclaiming. Healing. Promising. Every touch erasing weeks of doubt. I stay inside her until our bodies start relaxing, coming down from the high.

“Come on, Red, let’s get cleaned up and order dinner.”

I pull out carefully and carry her to the bathroom like she weighs nothing. She’s loose-limbed and blissed out, face tucked against my shoulder.

The shower steams up fast. I set her down gently and step in behind her. She reaches for the soap, but I stop her, curling my arms around her from behind.

“Let me,” I murmur against her neck.

I wash her slowly—thoroughly—pressing soft kisses to every inch I touch. Her shoulders. Her hips. The faint, tender swell of her belly. Memorizing her all over again.

When I’m done, she turns, takes the soap from my hands, and returns the favor. Gentle. Focused. Her fingers in my hair. Her palms tracing every sore muscle, every inch of skin that missed her.

By the time we dry off and climb into bed, I feel like I’ve been scrubbed clean from the inside out.

She’s curled against me now, wrapped in a thick hotel robe, cheek resting on my bare chest. Her fingers drum absently along my ribs.

I trace lazy patterns on her skin, still breathing hard.

“I was so scared,” I admit against her hair.

“Scared you’d realize you didn’t need me. ”

She looks up, eyes fierce. “I need you like breathing, Finnian O’Reilly. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

I’m so fucking full of her—of us—I don’t even know what to do with myself. Which is why it stops me cold when she says, “I went to the doctor yesterday.”

I shift just enough to see her face. My body goes tight.

“I know,” I say softly. “I hated missing it. I wanted to be there. ”

Her hand comes to rest on my chest, warm and steady. “I know you did.”

“Everything okay?” My tone drops lower. “You…you have pictures?”

She nods. “They gave me a few. Wanna see?”

“Yes,” I say instantly, like she just offered me oxygen.

She shifts, then slips out from under the covers. Pads across the room, scanning the floor until she spots her purse.

“Hold on,” she says, tone soft.

She kneels, digs through the bag, and pulls out a small envelope. Her fingers tremble as she climbs back into bed and hands it to me.

“They’re kind of hard to make out unless you know what you’re looking for.”

I stare at the black and white grainy blur like it’s a goddamn masterpiece. “That little blob there?” she says, pointing. “That’s our baby.”

My throat tightens. “That’s our kid.”

She grins. “Now look over here.”

She taps another faint shadow just to the side of the first.

“You see that?” she asks casually. “What do you think it is?”

I squint. “Is that...a penis? It’s a boy?”

She snorts, laughing. “Wow. Straight to the goods, huh?”

“You asked,” I say, grinning. “Looked kind of proud.”

“Relax, caveman. It’s still too early to tell.” She leans in close, her smile wicked. “It’s a second baby.”

I blink. “Wait—what?”

“Twins.” She’s beaming now. “Two. As in double trouble. You are apparently very potent, Carolina.”

I just stare at the printout. “Holy shit.”

Jessica hums, smug. “I mean, one time. With protection, at that. And boom —two babies? Pretty sure we just rewrote the biology textbooks.”

I exhale a stunned laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Jesus, Red. You’re not just carrying my kid. One more, and you’d be carrying a full line.”

“Strong swimmers,” she teases.

“Hall of fame swimmers,” I mutter, still staring at the sonogram. My heart is thudding against my ribs. “Do we...know the genders?”

“Like I said, too early to confirm. But...” She hesitates, then adds, “Wai Po swears it’s a boy and a girl. And she’s got a track record.”

I look at her, startled. “Wai Po?”

She nods. “My Chinese grandmother. My mother’s mother. She told me I’m having twins, and the doctor confirmed it yesterday.”

“And she said a boy and a girl?”

“With no hesitation.”

I laugh, full and free and stunned. “And you believed her?”

“I didn’t not believe her. But I also didn’t expect to walk into my OB and hear ‘congratulations, it’s a matched set.’”

I pull her fully onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her, the sonogram still in my hand.

“You’re carrying our babies,” I whisper against her breast. “Our family. You have no idea how that wrecks me.”

“Good wrecked or bad wrecked?”

“Best kind of wrecked, darlin’. The kind that makes a man want to be better.”

She nods, resting her head on my chest again, heartbeat syncing with mine.

“You’ll come to the next appointment?” she whispers.

I press a kiss to her temple. “Every damn one.”