Page 41 of Protecting His Finch

My fingers knot the sheets. “No,” I say, voice raspy.

Alright. Maybe she does have my number.

She teases me like this until it’s almost unbearable, until the sheets stick to the sweat on my back and I can’t catch my breath. This small, five-foot woman has me panting like a dog, my tongue curled on the roof of my mouth.

I’m on the verge of breaking when she ghosts her lips sweetly across mine. “Don’t worry, Archer,” she says. “I’ll take care of you.”

It’s not condescending, the way she says it—it’s pure. A promise.

Then she wraps her fingers around my aching cock and starts pumping.

I moan. I’m aware I’m being loud, but at this point, I can’t control the noises that leave my throat. My hips arch to meet her hand.

It doesn’t take much. She’s got me wound so tight that my orgasm takes me by surprise.

I shout when I come. It hits my chest. She keeps stroking until I shoot again, lashing across my stomach. She doesn’t stop until I’m dripping down her knuckles.

“Jesus,” I say. “Fuck.”

I’m seeing spots. My heart thrashes like it’s trying to break free.

She kisses my chest. My throat.

“Good. That’s so good,” she murmurs into the crook of my neck. And—

What the fuck just happened?

I exploded harder in her hand than I have buried in other woman’s cunts.

This virgin fucking dismantled me.

I’m catching my breath, sticky in my own mess. She lets me recover, and I feel her fingers softly tracing my stomach. My body now knows what her hands are capable of, and I shiver involuntarily at her touch. I feel her trace lazy circles, and I’m so out of it, it takes me a second to realize she’s painting me with my own cum. I’m too delirious to mind.

“What does it feel like?” she asks.

“What?”

“An orgasm.”

I swallow. I’m holding my heart in my mouth. “Like breaking into a million pieces.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“It’s freeing.”

She’s quiet at that. She’s still now, her warm hand settled on my abdomen, and her breath patters against my chest.

I’m afraid she’s already asleep, so I gently mention, “I have to clean up.”

She pushes herself up suddenly to a sitting position. “Stay there,” she says. Then she pops out of bed and goes into the bathroom.

I watch her bare legs as she goes. The shirt she’s sleeping in is long, but not that long, and it hikes up just below her ass. There’s a hint of purple panties underneath, and I fixate.

She’s just satisfied me, and just like that, I’m famished again.

When Finley comes back, she has a small washcloth in hand. She sits up in bed, folding her knees underneath her, and strokes the damp cloth over my belly, cleaning me.

“You’re the patient,” she says. “No getting out of bed for you.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com