Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(51)

I allow him to lead us, my trust something he seeks and equally turns him on.

He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth and positions us at the edge of the bed, in front of the mirror anchored above the dresser. I almost expect him to bend me over. Instead he sits, spreading my legs open and pulling me forward so I’m hovered over his lap.

My back is against his chest, giving us a very nice view of our reflection. Without needing to ask, I lower myself down, placing my hands on my knees to keep my balance as he rubs his silky head against my folds.

My body shudders as he guides me down slowly. This position is new to me, the fit tighter. I arch my back, scrunching my face and releasing a moan as he fills me once more.

I open my eyes, releasing a shudder. The tense angle of his jaw demonstrates his need to pump into me. But he doesn’t want to hurt me. That doesn’t mean I’m not more than ready for us to begin.

My shoulders tremble as I slide against his lap, the ecstasy I feel coiling around my lower half and clenching my muscles. I withdraw, slowly before pushing him back inside me, my leisurely pace causing me to feel every part of him and making me grunt.

As I make another pass, I lift my chin to look at Finn, hoping he likes what I’m doing and pleased at what I find. His expression is one of agonized bliss. “Does it feel good, baby?” he asks.

“Yes,” I bite out, my eyelids fluttering when I realize how easily this position reaches my G spot.

Finn’s fingers dig into my hips, his chin falling forward to rest on my shoulder. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he says, gasping. He lifts his head, pegging our reflections with one hell of a glance. “This is how I want to watch you come.”

My body quivers from his words and my need to move faster. I glide forward and back, whimpering with each sweep of my hips.

With a sharp swear, Finn snaps his head back. My head lolls forward as that familiar ache builds with my increasing speed. It feels so good, I have trouble focusing and maintaining my pace. He clasps my hips, keeping us going. My chest heaves in and out, my body shaking as my core grips him tight.

“Touch yourself,” he tells me, his raspy tone lowering.

It’s something I’ve never felt comfortable doing before Finn. But he unleashes my feral side, the one that thrives on pleasing him. My hand slips between my legs as his arm curls around my waist. I force myself to augment our speed, clenching my teeth and trying not to full out scream as I writhe against him.

Our eyes appear closed in the mirror, but I know better. We’re both watching, we both like what we see, and we’re both losing control. Something this hot shouldn’t appear so beautiful. Yet the way Finn’s hands pass against the swells of my breasts, the curves of my body, and the way they thread through my hair, it is beautiful. He may whisper dirty words, he may groan with how good it feels, but it’s the way we come alive that proves we’re making and sharing love.

This time when I finish, I can’t keep my balance―not in these shoes and certainly not from the force of our passion. I stumble forward, every inch of me hot and electrified.

Finn hooks his arm around me, catching me and keeping us together as he guides me forward. He steadies me against the dresser, pumping fast as I grip the edge. Another orgasm builds inside me, causing me to fall limp against the slick wood as he finishes filling me.

“Fuck,” he gasps, collapsing almost on top of me.

It’s like he can’t believe what happened or how hot it was. Not that I blame him. It’s like that with Finn, every time is almost like our first time, the need to please each other overwhelming our senses.

I push my crazy hair out of my face, watching as he nuzzles my neck and trails sweet kisses along my heated skin.

“I love you,” I want to say. But I don’t. I don’t want him to think this feeling stems solely from the physical part of our relationship, so I promised myself I wouldn’t tell him anymore in bed. That doesn’t mean I don’t want him to say it.

If it’s how he feels.

It takes some time before either of us move, both of us struggling to keep somewhat vertical and catch our breaths. Finally, I shift my hips, resulting in both of us groaning, but smiling a little, too. There’s nothing quite like that ache that follows sex with Finn. It gives me chills, reigniting my desire and making me want to beg him for more.

His palms rest on either side of me, his shoulders rising and falling with each profound breath. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks.

“No,” I answer truthfully. But I really want to.

It’s true. Finn has completely changed me. Sex was something I used to do because I believed it was a part of a relationship. I never sought it nor enjoyed it as much as I thought I could. Something was always missing. I realize now it’s the passion I was for so long denied. That desire to feel wanted, needed, and special, is everything Finn makes me feel, and everything I want to give him in return.

He hugs me against him, clutching me like he’ll never let me go. My arms lower to lay over his. No . . . maybe what was missing was Finn, my perfect hero in my very imperfect world.

I give a little wiggle, drawing his attention. He raises his head, meeting my face in the mirror. “We’re not done yet, are we?” I ask, my voice so deep, it’s barely recognizable.

His eyes sizzle as his hands lift to cup my breasts. “Oh, hell no,” he says, angling his chin and kissing me fiercely.