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His fingers hook beneath my chin, lifting my face toward the heat of him. I can’t see his expression, but I hear the control in his voice.
“You want to make me suffer, little wild thing?” he says. “Spread your legs and show me what I shouldn't touch.”
I swallow hard when his thumb drags over my lower lip, gathering the wet there before pressing it back against my mouth.
Warmth spreads under my skin, and I hate that the visor lets him see every trace of it.
“Lie back,” he says, voice deep and rough. “Hands above your head.”
The command moves through me so hard my thighs clench.
“Now.”
I lower myself onto the rug. The fibers scrape against my spine and the air feels colder when I’m flat on my back in the path of a draft.
Obeying him, I lift my arms over my head and wait, not caring for anything beyond this room.
“Don’t just stand there,” I say.
“I’m not.”
“Ya are.”
“I’m watching you realize you like being told where to put your hands.”
The words slip under my skin, filthy because they’re right, and my fingers curl above my head.
“I don’t.”
“No?” His voice drops. “Then move them. Touch yourself.”
Air snags in my throat like I’ve swallowed something too big to breathe around.
“Put your hands where you want my mouth.”
The silence turns hot around us, and I skate my fingers lower, over my stomach and between my thighs, my heart hammering and skin on fire.
“That’s what I thought,” he says.
Fionn lowers between my legs, and I know it more by sound and heat than sight, the shift of his body, the brush of his hands against the inside of my thighs, the solidness of his body moving down through the lens until his shoulders are a broad burn between my legs.
His breath is warm against me. The heat of it rolls over my soaked skin, and my clit throbs when his hands slide under my thighs and shove them wide.
“What are ya doin’ to me, Fionn?”
“Giving you what you crave.”
He buries his face between my legs and every thought of how wrong this is burns to ashes around us.
I arch off the rug, moaning for him, sliding my hands into his hair and tugging tight.
“You wanted punishment,” he says between licks. “Take it.”
Heat breaks through my body, strong and violent, and my head tips back as he licks me with the same focused patience he uses for everything else.
Slow at first. Cruel with it. Learning the places that make my thighs tense, the pressure that makes my breath falter, the rhythm that has my hips chasing him.
His tongue drags the length of me, then circles, and when his mouth closes over my swollen clit and sucks, the cry that comes out of my throat is loud enough to startle me.
