Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(58)

“Not satisfied enough,” he says, shifting his weight onto one arm as he trails a finger between my breasts, slowly dragging his touch down the center of my body. “I’m going to bet that your perfect pussy is fucking soaked, begging to be fucked.” Suddenly, his touch is moving in the other direction, back toward my chest. I let out an immediate whimper and he gives me a rakish grin in reply. “I thought so. Fucking desperate to be lavished with attention, isn’t that right?”

I let out another whimper as his finger circles my nipple through my satin tank top. I nod.

“What was that?” Fionn asks, tilting his head as though trying to hear me better. “I didn’t quite make that out, Rose.”

“Yes,” I breathe, and his finger resumes its path toward my center. “I need it.”

I need you.

Though I don’t say the words out loud, he can sense them. He grins, slowly making his way down my body, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When he gets to my hips, he pulls my sleep shorts off, tossing them to the floor before he lifts the thigh of my injured leg to lay it over his shoulder. He’s so delicate with my broken parts, even when he’s about to destroy the rest of me. It sets my blood aflame. I’ve never wanted anyone like I do Fionn Kane. And as he lowers his mouth to my pussy and presses my chest down with his wide palm as though he can capture every heaving breath, I know that will never change.

Fionn slides his tongue from my entrance to my clit, circling the bundle of nerves. He moans into my flesh, his eyes drifting closed. If he said my pussy was the best meal he ever had, I would believe him. He presses harder, rolls his tongue over me, hums his satisfaction right into me. And then he glides his tongue back down to my entrance to thrust it inside, pulsing it in my cunt. When he licks his way back to the top of my folds, he pushes a finger into my pussy, followed by a second, curling them with every stroke. The pressure doesn’t let up on my clit.




“More,” I beg, my head tilting back as he works me closer to a blinding orgasm. “Make me come on your beautiful fucking face. I want to see it smeared all over your skin.”

When I look down the length of my body, it’s pure predator staring back at me. Fionn’s eyes darken. He growls against my pussy, a shock of pleasure. And then he catapults me into oblivion.

Fionn raises on his knees. He takes me with him, never breaking his mouth away. My legs are braced over his shoulders as he raises my ass off the bed. The sounds he makes are wild, animalistic. He fucking devours me.

I don’t just moan. I don’t just come. I scream his name and split apart.

My fists curl around damp sheets. Every breath I take is desperate, as though there’s not enough oxygen in the room. The scent of sex and his citrus and sage cologne are heavy in the air. I’m sure I lose hearing, every sound dampened, even my own unraveling moans. Fionn doesn’t let up, still chasing every last moment of my orgasm until I tap him to stop. The instant I do, he comes back to himself and lets go, as though he was in that other dimension with me. One where no other world existed beyond this moment together.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathless. His lips and chin and cheeks glisten with my arousal. I feel the first burn from his stubble on my inner thighs, a delicious pain that I savor.

“I’m fucking fantastic.” When I smile, relief and maybe a bit of pride find their way into his expression. I’m a sweaty, boneless mess when Fionn lowers my hips to the bed and backs off the mattress to retrieve my sleep shorts from the floor. He puts them on for me, gently sliding them up my legs, lifting my hips to center them. And when he’s done, he brings me things I can’t easily reach. Water. My robe. The crutches that I left just out of reach from this side of the bed. And when I’m eventually ready to go to the bathroom, he has the bed ready when I get back, the covers smoothed and turned down.

When we’re finally both settled in bed, we don’t stick to our sides. Just like we didn’t last night. Same with the night before. We meet in the middle. I lay my head on Fionn’s chest. He wraps an arm across my back.

“Part of me doesn’t want to go home,” I confess into the dark.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Me too.”

But as a close my eyes, I realize, I’m not sure which home I mean anymore.

I’m not sure where I belong.





STROKE OF LUCK


Rose



I’m sitting in the chairs that line the corridor outside the orthopedic clinic within the hospital, waiting for Fionn. We haven’t talked about this day. Not aside from my immediate appointment, at least. We haven’t discussed me calling José, or going back to Dorothy, or how I should be getting ready to pull up stakes and leave for someplace new.

It’s as though the aftermath won’t exist if we don’t talk about it. And I want to. I’m desperate to test those waters, but I’m unsure what will happen if I do. At first, I thought it was just me who was avoiding the topic of my departure. But Fionn doesn’t bring it up either, and though my first instinct was that he didn’t want to be impolite and kick me out, I’m not sure that’s it.

Ever since we returned from Boston a few days ago, we’ve mutually gone back to our friends-with-benefits rules. Just like slipping into a familiar costume. But it feels like that suit doesn’t fit like it should. When we had sex in the shower the other day, we both paused in the hallway when we left the bathroom as though trying to figure out how to go our separate ways. It’s suddenly unnatural to sleep without Fionn’s heart beating beneath my ear. And when we fucked on the kitchen table, it didn’t feel like fucking. Not with the way Fionn trailed a path of lingering kisses up my neck and across my jaw. Onto my cheek. At the corner of my mouth. That was the kiss that lasted the longest. I fought myself to not turn into it. And I think he did too. It felt like he wanted to take everything.