Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
That assumption is challenged immediately as the kiss gains power, and I find myself backing up, Finn pressing against me with growing force, until I find myself crouched on the ground, then sitting, then falling onto my back as he crawls over me on the sand, consuming my lips.
I rake my fingers up the sides of his body, feeling him freely at last without the pretense of a massage. He lets me, which seems like more than enough of an invitation to keep going. My fingers tease their way under his shirt until soon it’s his soft, smooth skin I’m feeling beneath the material. In response, his hips grind deeper into mine, signifying his approval, and I learn just how hard this attention has him.
Is this his way of … knocking on my door?
Should I knock on his, too, or let myself the fuck in?
I don’t know whether it’s by my effort or his own, but his shirt hikes up his body fast. I pull away from his lips, feeling explorative, and slip my head right under his shirt, bringing my face to his muscular chest. It was glorious the first time I laid eyes on it when the back door tore the shirt straight off his body, but this upclose with my face against it, his aesthetic physique is overwhelming. My lips part and my wet mouth pours over his chest. His breaths come deep and fast as I suffocate with joy in the world underneath his shirt. My fingertips dance down his lower back, exploring, as I open my mouth to one of his nipples.
And if his response to that doesn’t tell me everything.
How he issues the deepest moan that easily overpowers the crashing of waves.
How his dick responds potently by flexing against my own, thrusting deeper and deeper while I make love to his nipple, which is proving far more sensitive than expected.
And my fingertips crawl down and discover the round, impeccable hills of his supple ass where they make landing and curl greedily.
“Ughn … River …” I hear him outside the shirt.
It’s such a tight fit in here, I can barely move my face as I keep torturing his nipple, feeling it harden with every drag of my tongue over its sensitive surface. It’s like I’m willingly trapped here now, nowhere to go. Finn can’t get away from the overwhelming stimulation. I don’t let him.
“P-Please …” he groans.
Is he begging me to stop? Or begging me not to?
I reach around and pull his shirt off over his head, both freeing myself and Finn from its confines, flinging it aside. His hands weave through my hair and grab hold, keeping my face pinned to his nipple, now without the shirt. Guess I gave him a taste and he wants more. I continue to lap and tongue his nipple all over—a pet to a bowl of his favorite food, incapable of consuming enough. The more I squeeze his ass, the deeper he presses into my lap, thrusting against me. Both of us are so hard, it’s starting to ache.
He pulls on my hair—an unexpected act that tugs my head back—and his mouth dives onto mine again. The lack of speaking between us as we grapple with one another’s bodies tells me no words are needed. He wants everything I’m doing to him. I want everything he’s doing to me.
We trust each other. Something I haven’t been able to say so easily about anyone in years.
How amazing it feels, to realize how safe I am when I’m with Finn.
He stops mid-kiss, out of breath. “Sorry.”
“Sorry?” I gasp. “What for?”
“I’m … I’m losing myself with you. This isn’t … This isn’t professional. Or right.”
“Professional? Right?” I laugh. “Since when have we cared about professional or ‘right’?”
“Someone could still find us. This isn’t a private beach, technically, and—”
“I know, but …” I wonder if there’s another reason he stopped. Is he panicking? Is this too much too fast? “We … We can slow down, Finn. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I want to do things,” he says. “I want to do many things. To you. On you. With you.” He glances off up the coast at the trees and dirt path leading back, as if he sees something. “I’m just afraid if … if someone finds us …”
“I shouldn’t have sought you out at the Fair,” I blurt.
He looks at me. “What?”
“I’ve risked dragging you into this. So selfish of me, to do that to you and your family.”
“No, no,” he quickly says, hushing me. “Nothing has happened. No one knows. You’ve not done anything, don’t worry. I’m more concerned about you, and …” He rethinks it. “Well, I guess it maybe wouldn’t be good for either of us if someone saw me. Everyone on the island knows me. Even several of our recurring visitors at the Fair. Dots can be connected. Just one measly post online could lead to … well … I guess we’re both kinda playing with fire here.”