Page 50 of Songbird
Too soon he pulls away, and I palm a breast as I watch him unbutton his jeans and push them down his legs. His underwear follows, his cock springing free, and I whimper. Long and thick, rock hard and velvety smooth, strained and throbbing, head tight and slit beaded with precum.
Up close, he’s bigger than I first realized. Much bigger than I’m used to. My heart pounds with want and worry, and the swoop in my belly is ninety percent lust and ten percent apprehension, like a pulsing bass under a soul-changing melody. I want him, but can I handle him?
I lick my lips as Finn gives himself a gentle stroke and rolls his thumb over the hint of moisture. “I have condoms inside.”
I shake my head and widen my legs so that my thighs brace his knees. “I’m on birth control, and when I discoveredhewas unfaithful, I got tested for everything. If you tell me it’s safe to do this with nothing between us, I believe you.”
Finn groans and kneads his fingers into my hips. “It’s safe,” he says hoarsely. “You’re always safe with me.”
I gasp as he lifts me up and settles my knees on either side of his hips, then leans back and holds me over the head of his cock. The muscles in his abs and thighs cord with the effort of keeping the swing still, and his forearms rope with strength as he balances me over his length.
The first brush of him against my pussy almost tips me over the edge, and I gasp at the zip of arousal that sparks in my clit.
“You like that, Songbird?” Finn’s smirk is smug, his eyes intense on mine, but tiny beads of perspiration on his brow give away how hard it is for him to go slow.
I drive my fingertips into his shoulder and give him an assenting nod, and he eases me down farther. I maintain eyecontact, needing to read what this does to him as much as I want him to know how this moment is changing me, and I hiss at the feel of him finally inside me. Finn grunts as my pussy stretches for him, pupils dilating and the line between his brows growing deeper.
He moves one hand off my hip so he can set the pad of his thumb on my clit, massaging it with slow circles that make me breathe deep and lean into him.
“That’s it. Good girl.” Finn slips his fingers through my slickness, swirling the wetness all over me and then down the shaft of his erection. “You’ve only got the tip, beautiful, so if you want more, you’re going to have to relax.”
Only the tip?Oh, God. Finn’s dick is going to end me, but I’m ready for my rebirth.
“I want it all,” I say as I ease down, moaning at the fullness. Saying what I want out loud turns me on even more, and my core relaxes enough to accept another inch. “Give it to me, Finn.”
“Fuck, yeah.” His fingers work between my legs while his other hand digs almost painfully into my hip and his voice drops to a growl of restraint. “Deep breath, Songbird. The deeper you breathe, the deeper I get.”
I sigh out a little more tension and slide again, already sensing the first hints of my orgasm coiling behind my navel and fluttering around Finn’s impressive girth.
He breathes heavily as he clenches his jaw. “Fuck,” he grunts. “Fuck. We’re going slow this time, beautiful, because I want you to remember every second of the first time my cock sank inside you, but I’m never going to manage this again. Remember that. Next time I’m fucking this pretty cunt, you’ll be doing some of that begging we talked about earlier.”
His words trigger a flood between my thighs because yes,yes, I want him to ruin me. I fold myself over him with a shaky moan,my pussy stretching to accommodate more, and I can’t stop the way my hips roll.
“Such a greedy pussy,” Finn murmurs, turning his head to nip at the curve of my neck, answering the rhythm of my pelvis with a thrust of his own. His hands travel up my body, one to cup a breast and tweak the nipple, the other to tangle in my hair and pull back my head to expose my throat to his hot tongue. “Already taking more than she thought she could handle, and you want to know why?”
I grind against him, closing in on the base of his dick, and the revelation that I’m about to be fully seated on Finn’s magnificent cock infuses every cell of my being with uncontrollable lust.
“Why?” I demand.
The undulation of the porch swing, rocking with our movements, amplifies the friction between our bodies, and Finn groans, wrapping a large, hard arm around my waist as he anchors me to the last inch of heaven. I cry out as my clit hits his pubic bone, then gyrate like an unhinged person. My climax is so close, his words driving me higher and wilder.
“Because she was waiting for me. Waiting for a cock that would fill her up.” Finn grunts, arm tightening around me, our damp bodies sliding against each other, his hips rocking to meet mine. “Waiting for a man that would stretch her the way she needs to be stretched. Waiting for the moment she was treated the way she deserved to be treated. The day she’d be fucked”—he pumps upside me, hard and feral, and I respond with a wordless cry—“by a man”—another thrust, and I’m almost there—“who knows”—Finn’s cock throbs and twitches inside me, and I can feel his orgasm bearing down alongside mine—“what the fuck”—another pump of his hips, hard and nearly violent, that pushes me over the edge—“he’s doing.”
Finn’s final words are delivered with a primal moan. My inner muscles clench around his cock and I’m racked with an orgasmso intense I don’t know if my eyes are closed or if I’ve slipped into semi-consciousness. I tremble through it, waves of pleasure dragging me under, Finn’s cock pulsing inside me.
He softens as we cling to each other, catching our breaths and our thoughts. Finn’s mouth finds mine first, but I’m waiting for it, and our kiss is deeper and more connected than ever. I wrap my arms around his neck and open my mouth, inviting him in again. How can a kiss feel this intimate after what we just did?
Maybe because Finn and I made more than music together this afternoon. We made magic.
seventeen
Finn
Therewastheworldbefore that afternoon with Rosie and there is the world after. The first was compartmentalized with all the moving parts and priorities ordered and packed away in little boxes. I knew where everything went, where to find what I needed, and what I had to do to get through a day. No chance that anything or anyone would slip through the cracks.
The second world is a spilled drawer with questions and passion scattered all over the floor, and I’m standing in the middle, surrounded by it all. The strange part is I don’t have the vaguest desire to tidy up. When it’s time to make my life neat again, it’ll be time to say goodbye, and I’m not ready to do that.
After what happened on the porch, Rosie dug another flannel from my closet and curled up on the sofa where she watched me cook dinner. Following her near-fire, not to mention almost constant distractedness the last few days, she’s given up her claim on the kitchen. I prefer it this way because, yes, it means the food on our plates is actually edible, but more than that, I like taking care of her.
