Page 79 of Dare to Love Again

With his warm body next to hers, his feather-light touch caressing her skin, and the tender concern in his voice and his expression, her answer was a resounding yes.

It translated to a softly uttered, “I’m hungry, sir, but not for food.”

With her gaze locked on his, she saw the moment his mood shifted and the kind, considerate nurturer stepped back, allowing the passionate, dominant lover to come forward. He needed no other invitation and rolled until he was on top of her. His mouth came down to cover hers as his hand swept down her arm. He found her fingers and interlaced his with her own. Deepening the kiss, he caught her other hand and brought both arms over her head. Balancing over her, he used his knees to spread her thighs then settled his hips between them, giving her more of his weight.

She welcomed it. But unable to wait for his next move, she tilted her hips upward, her body recognizing the hard proof of his desire as surely as it responded to his dominance.

When he rolled to his side, she whimpered at the loss.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. But for this to work, both of us will have to lose some clothes.”

She heard a zipper and the crinkle of a wrapper. Next came the sound of ripping fabric. As cool air wafted over her damp, heated skin, her eyes flew to his, shocked that the usually calm, composed, patient Master Finn had torn off her panties.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he growled as he moved on top of her again. “Better yet, stop wearing the damn things.”

Feeling his skin against hers rather than denim and the insistent nudge of his cock against her pussy instead of a bulging zipper, she moaned, “Commando it is from now on, sir.”

There wasn’t much talking after that, mostly because she couldn’t, too overwhelmed by the power of his passion. Everything seemed to happen at once. His mouth captured hers with slow, drugging kisses, and he got to his knees, wedging them up close to her bottom. He draped her legs over his thighs. This left her hips tilted upward, and her pussy spread wide for him.

Wasting no time, he slid the broad head of his rigid cock through her slick folds. Her flesh quivered, her legs locking around him as best she could. Esme tensed with the anticipation of him filling and stretching her again. After a few long, delicious glides, he changed angles and aligned the tip with her entrance. Esme held her breath, waiting anxiously, a whimper of need emanating from her.

A second ticked past and another, but he didn’t move.

“Eyes on me,a stór.”

Her gaze rose and locked with his.

“Don’t hide from me, Esme. I want it all. You’ll look at me as I claim your pussy, so I can see your eyes as passion builds, to watch as your climax overtakes your body and you come. I want to see the pleasure written across your beautiful face.”

With their green eyes locked together, he plunged deep.

She cried out because with her hips tipped upward, once fully seated, Finn touched her in places never touched before.

He stretched out on top of her and reclaimed her hands, which hadn’t budged from where he’d placed them above her head. Then, with faces close, fingers pressed tight, and bodies entwined, he moved. His strokes were slow, sure, possessive, and her inner muscles rippled around him in response.

The delicious friction penetrated every nerve, and each well-timed thrust bumped her clit. She gasped for breath as he groaned and buried his face in her neck.

“Hand in glove,” he uttered as his mouth opened on her skin, which she took as affirmation of how perfectly they fit together.

Settling into a pattern of deep, steady thrusts and slow, measured withdrawals, Finn stirred sensations she’d never experienced before. It was beautiful, amazing, mind-blowing and every other trite adjective she’d read in any romance ever—but in this case, it was true.

And it was too much for her to take. She tried to hold back, but it was as impossible as stemming the rising tide in a storm. Pleasure washed over her, and as her orgasm peaked, her legs tightened around him, and she rode the convulsive waves of pleasure gripping her.

Rising to his knees, he braced on his arms, hands still interlocked with hers. He moved faster, hips thrusting harder, his cock driving deep until with a growl, he stiffened and planted inside her. Somehow, Esme found the strength to open her eyes and watch as he tensed above her, and with a rumble of pure satisfaction from his chest and throat, he poured himself into her.

Staring up at him, still panting from her climax, and blown away from witnessing his, she saw when his face relaxed, and his green eyes opened. Still turbulent from their explosive passion, while his gaze held hers, his lips kicked up in a lazy, sexy grin.

“I meant hungry for supper, lass, but that’ll do any day.”

Her lips parted, but before she could think of a plausible denial—which would have been an out-and-out lie—he dipped his head and took her lips in a slow, wet, bone-tingling kiss.

Long moments passed before he eased out of her and dropped to her side.

“Don’t move,” he ordered softly. “I’ll be right back.”

He exited the bed and crossed to the bathroom, likely to take care of what was in the crinkling wrapper she’d heard earlier. Lying flat on her back, staring up at her shadowed ceiling, her body tingling in the aftermath, she felt a swirling mix of emotion. Hope, that finally, she might move on, relief, that a good man like Finn existed to help her do so, and nagging guilt because as good as sex had been with Andrew, never had it been like just now.

“Nope,” Finn admonished as he climbed into bed and gathered her close. “Living each day to the fullest does not include dwelling on the past.”

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