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“It’s about damn time,” she says, cupping my cheeks in her hands.
“You can say that again.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Poppy
The way Finn looks at me is downright filthy.
It’s been absolute hell trying to act like a mature grown woman and take care of Sunny with this motherfucker running around shirtless in gray sweatpants. His body is too perfect—smooth, tanned skin that screams power with muscles crafted by God himself.
And then to watch him hold Sunny so tenderly?
It’s unfair. I’m not even sure I want kids, and my ovaries ache.
He smirks. “You’ve been walking around all night with nothing on under that shirt?”
“I was hoping,” I say, nibbling his bottom lip, “that you might take pity on me and bend me over the bathroom sink or something.”
He growls as I tug his lip with my teeth, pressing my pussy against his stomach.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he says as if this is a surprise. He presses kisses across my jaw, his fingers digging deeper into my ass cheeks. The burn of the pressure heats my core even more.
“Listen,” I say, tilting my head to the side to give him better access to the crook of my neck. “If you want me to stay here and not be wet the whole time, you’re going to have to start wearing a shirt.”
He chuckles against my shoulder. “Funny, because I was thinking that if you’re going to stay here, I prefer you not wearing a shirt.”
I lean back and grin. “Ask and you shall receive.” I grab the hem and yank it off, tossing it somewhere across the room.
My thighs are coated in my need for him. My nipples are peaked, begging for his mouth. I can barely manage the throbbing between my legs as his lips find mine again.
His tongue slides into my mouth without restraint. Demanding. Taking. Owning. There’s an urgency hiding beneath the surface of his collected demeanor. It’s as if he’s struggling between wanting to ravage me and wanting to take his time tonight.
I’m always for ravaging. But there is something to be said for being present and just enjoying this without getting inside my own head—something that I’ve managed to do so far. Besides, that’s what I told him, and myself, that I would do. And with his attention so acutely focused on me, it suddenly doesn’t seem like such a bad plan.
“You get more beautiful every time I see you,” he says.
I laugh against his lips. “I’m already naked, Miller. You don’t have to charm me.”
He pulls back, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop deflecting when I say something nice,” he says, the head of his cock pressing against my ass. “Take a compliment.”
“I take a compliment just fine. Don’t believe me? Wait until I’m riding your cock in a minute and see how well I take your words of affirmation.”
He laughs, tossing me onto the bed.
My pulse trips over itself as he strips his sweats off and steps out of them. Watching him move is foreplay. I slide my hand between my legs and moan, unable to go another minute without some relief. He palms his cock, eyes glued to mine, as he strokes it from root to tip.
“Have you missed me?” he asks. A bead of precum forms on the head of his dick. “Because I’ve dreamed of that pussy every single night.”
My insides tighten. “Really? What was I doing?”
“Sitting on me. Squatting on my face. Bent over every fucking surface of this house.” He hisses. “I’ve been in your mouth, your cunt, and your ass more in the past two weeks than I was in the month prior.”
