Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(108)
I snort. “Yeah, I bet Maude led the charge on that one,” I say as I walk closer to inspect the finer details of the stitching. “Did Bernard make the frame?”
“He sure did.”
“It’s epic.” I stare up at the hooks as I tug on the swing. “Think it’ll hold?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Fionn’s arm slides around my waist. His warm breath cascades across my neck between slow and luxurious kisses. “What do you think, Mrs. Kane?”
Goose bumps ripple across my skin. I close my eyes and smile as I raise an arm and run my fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”
“Tired of what? Kisses? I hope not,” he says, pressing another lingering kiss to the juncture between my neck and shoulder.
“No. Of you calling me Mrs. Kane.”
A rumbling hmm vibrates against my flesh. Fionn’s fingers trace the sliver of skin at the edge of my shirt, then land on the button, slowly pulling it undone. “I’ll never get tired of it either,” he says against the shell of my ear. I shiver as he frees the next button. “Mrs. Kane.” He frees another button, letting his touch graze my navel in a slow caress. “You are so beautiful, Mrs. Kane. Your skin is so soft.” His tongue traces a line up the length of my neck. “You taste so sweet. If only you knew the things I plan to do to you, Mrs. Kane. How I plan to devour you.”
My breath shudders. Another button is pulled free. Then another. Another. In moments that seem to pass too quickly and yet not quickly enough, the shirt is sliding off my shoulders, falling to the hardwood floor. My bra is next. My jeans and panties. Then I’m standing naked, the weight of Fionn’s ravenous gaze resting like a veil on my skin. I turn just enough to watch him reach behind his shoulders to pull his shirt off.
“Turn around, Mrs. Kane,” he says, his voice husky with lust. I do as he asks, turning to face him. He doesn’t come closer as his eyes trail the length of my body. They drag down my chest, past my navel, slowing over the narrow patch of hair at the apex of my thighs. I feel his need in every inch of skin his gaze consumes. Only once his attention has returned to my face does he step any closer. “I’ve been waiting to try this swing for so long.”
“How long?” I ask as he lifts me with one arm, positioning the swing with his free hand.
Fionn chuckles as he sets me on the suspended yarn, and with just a little adjustment and a pause to ensure it’s safe, he takes a step back. “Since you first brought it up.”
A theatrical gasp passes from my lips, but Fionn hardly notices. Half of his focus is on my ankle as he slides it into a crocheted cuff, the other half on my pussy. “You were thinking about me in the sex swing at the Suture Sisters meeting? You scoundrel.” Though we both smile, the amusement between us doesn’t linger in the air, burning away in the heat of desire.
“From the moment you said it, I couldn’t get it out of my head.” Fionn slips my other ankle into the second cuff, and then I’m bared to him, my legs spread wide. His eyes stay locked to mine as his warm palm slides up my calf, skimming over the scar from the night we met before pausing there. He kneels between my thighs. My breaths come in pants. He blows a thin stream of air across my folds and I shiver, my fingers tightening around fistfuls of soft yarn. “I imagined you just like this.” A slow lick passes over my center. “Spread open for me.” Another caress of his tongue. “At my mercy.” A lingering kiss. “Ready to be tasted.”
I open my mouth, about to beg for more, when he seals his lips over my clit. My words dissolve into a moan. His tongue teases and circles. He kisses and sucks. He grips my thighs, imprinting his touch on my flesh. He feasts on me.
When I tilt my head back and close my eyes, Fionn growls against my pussy, nipping my clit with a gentle bite that’s soothed with a kiss when my attention snaps back to him. As soon as it does, he smiles with approval, never breaking his gaze from mine. It’s wicked. It’s decadent. It’s perfection. And when he slides two fingers into my pussy and pumps them in a building, quickening rhythm, it’s an unraveling. My fingers tangle in the yarn. I whimper and beg. I come apart, suspended in a moment of ecstasy that seems like it will never end. He draws out my pleasure, savoring it. I feel like a delicacy in his hands, and he doesn’t stop until I’m a mess of unsteady breaths and surging heartbeats.
“I like the swing,” is all I can manage when I feel confident that I can make words a few moments later.
Fionn huffs a breath of a laugh, swiping his palm across the arousal glistening on his face. “I think we should still continue some testing. Best to be sure,” he says as he stands, slipping the cuffs from my ankles. With his eyes fused to mine and a rakish grin lifting one corner of his lips, he unbuttons his jeans and tugs them over his hips with his briefs, freeing his erection.
“You’re probably right. We should be sure to fully quality control the prototype before we make version two.”
“Version two?” Fionn asks, and I give him a sage nod in reply as he lifts me from the swing just long enough to flip me over. My sweat-slicked belly and chest lie on the black yarn, my ass facing Fionn, my legs dangling off the edge.
“I figured we could try making a few,” I reply as his palms caress the backs of my thighs and the globes of my ass. “Maybe start a collection.”