A sprinkling of mystical seeming dust motes danced in the shards of fractured sunlight peeking through the slatted blinds in her bedroom. Remy softly blew as she exhaled. Her breath sent the flying motes into a tumbling swirl that broke apart as it dropped.

It was early, just past dawn, and life in the desert was barely waking up. This quiet before the storm period between dreams and the weight of reality was her favorite time of day. She found something steadying about each blank page of the calendar. Grabbing a fresh start early, before the energy of others changed the dynamic, was part of her normal routine.

Over time, something else got added to her routine. Waking up next to Finn O’Brien.

Hunched over as she sat cross-legged on her side of the bed, Remy balanced a sketchbook on her thigh and let the charcoal pencil in her hand move over a blank page.

In the dim morning light, Finn’s dark auburn hair was a deeper hue. Shadows and light made his face look sharply angled. Lush dark lashes from his closed eyes lay above his cheekbone.

Smudging a mark on his forehead until it looked like the barely visible crescent-shaped scar near his temple, Remy labored over the drawing in the still silence.

Sketching the outline of her man’s mouth drew an unconscious sigh from deep in her chest. Beantown was a looker—there was no other way to put it. Women fanned themselves as he walked by. But while others looked and possibly fantasized about the Irish hottie, the lips she sighed over were hers and hers alone.

FiFi raised her little head and blinked sleepy eyes. Remy smiled. The damn dog was wrapped around Finn’s neck and lay curled on his shoulder as he slept.

Did she love the stupid canine? Of course. But did that stop her from smirking at Finn’s pet and flipping her off? No. No matter which way you cut it, sharing one’s boyfriend with another female was a dicey proposition, even if the other girl in question was a dog.

For her part, FiFi yawned and eyed Remy. When the fur ball wiggled and stretched her paws straight out, one of them touched Finn’s chin, and just like that, he started the journey to awakening.

Drawing a bit more before her subject began to move, the charcoal left behind on the page depicted a sleeping man with a broad, muscled chest and torso. As usual, she drew a sheet to cover his bottom half. However, today she added some naughty shading that made it clear how prominent Mr. Finn O’Brien’s morning hard-on was.

Sensing he was about to open his eyes, Remy closed the sketchbook, put the charcoal pencil in her nightstand drawer, and wiped her fingers on a tissue.

Snapping her fingers and pointing at the floor, she motioned to FiFi, but the pooch wasn’t relinquishing her front row seat. Not yet.

Finn stretched. She watched the length of his body arch, lengthen, and quiver.

“Mmm.” The sound of his deep, masculine growl made her giddy.

“Hey, girl,” Finn murmured to FiFi. She was stretched across his neck like a scarf.

He kissed the canine diva and moved her off his neck. Then his head turned, and he saw her. Remy’s heart skipped a beat when he smiled into her eyes.

“Ma mhuirnín,” he drawled. “Morning, darlin’.”

Grinning, she responded in perfect French. “Se lever paresseux. Get your lazy ass up.”

They shared smiles filled with warmth.

“Love you,” Finn growled as he stretched again.

She replied with her usual. A huff, a snort, and a droll look. “Ya had to go and ruin the moment, didn’t you?”

“Always good to know where I stand first thing.”

“Irish bastard.”

“Warrior bitch.”

FiFi yipped to let them know her needs came first.

Rolling sideways, she left the bed and turned around just in time to see Finn throw back the covers to reveal white briefs with the distinct outline of his fine Irish shillelagh.

Had she just referred to Beantown’s manhood as a knotty club? Yeah, that happened.

Did her lover-in-waiting openly smirk at her when he caught her drooling? Of course! They wouldn’t be Finn and Remy otherwise.

“Go take your shower, wench, and stop eyeing up the goods.”

Sticking her tongue out, she made a face and grunted. “Shuddup. I pay the rent so …” She shrugged.

He challenged her with his burnished jade gaze and made as if he was about to strip. “We can put an end to this charade right now if you’re up to it, babe.”

Shrieking with outrage, mock fear, and laughter, she yanked her T-shirt down to cover at least some of her ass and sprinted for the bathroom where she promptly slammed the door and then dissolved in giggles.

Finn watched Remy’s tight, perfect butt as she ran from the room. Every day, another stone in the fortress she’d built around her emotions either crumbled or fell. With no effort at all, he could get her to surrender and be done with this hands-off nonsense, but he knew in order for her healing to be complete, she needed to be the one. The one to start it and the one to finish it.

In ways he wasn’t comfortable with exploring, he found it excruciatingly difficult to square his alpha tendencies with the understanding that the surrender would be coming from him. But Remington Bisset was worth it. Theirs was an extraordinary love—something unique and powerful that did not come along every day or even in every lifetime.

Palming his erection, he mumbled, “Sorry,” and made a silent promise to address the stiff situation in the shower. But first, he had to let FiFi out to piddle, or he’d be cleaning dog piss off the floor.

He glanced at the bathroom door, shaking his head to rid the imagine of Remy stripping to her bare skin from his mind. Without examining his motives, he went to her nightstand, flipped open her sketchbook to the last image she’d drawn, and smiled. Not only did she draw him, but she also included his morning wood.

“Yeah,” he said to the empty room. “She wants.”

FiFi yipped. He hurriedly pulled on some jeans and left the bedroom. The dog obediently followed.

“The dog obeys. The girlfriend? Not so much,” he said with a good-natured laugh. “Such is life, right, girl?”

They left Remy’s apartment and made for the stairs. FiFi scrambled to the bottom and dashed for the bathtub-sized patch of real grass that Ben put at the corner of the building. Bella was making a wood sign with Uncle Drae’s help that was going to read “FiFi Pooper Pad” or FPP.

Scraping his hands back and forth through his hair, Finn yawned and waited for the dog to handle her business. The pavement under his bare feet was cool right now, but soon, the Arizona sun would turn up the heat. After a lifetime in Boston, he enjoyed the southwest climate immensely.

“Yo,” a voice called out.

Finn nearly jumped out of his skin. It was way too early for anyone to be out and about. Whirling to face whoever it was, he was startled to find Caleb Merrill sitting on a wood crate about twenty feet away.

“Christ almighty, Cal. You nearly gave me a heart attack. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Alex asked me to come up with some ideas for these buildings. The gals claimed the old downstairs business center, but my focus is the upstairs. And whatever the hell that is,” he said with a laugh as he gestured to a half barn, half garage structure that served zero purpose. “Those upstairs apartments are garbage. Alex is all over the map about what to do, so Meghan suggested I should ask for your input if I ran into you.”

Finn walked over to him and glanced at the design plan on the iPad Cal held up. Cal was correct about the three bare-bones apartments. Finn hated that Remy was stuck in the middle spot, and considering the other two places were vacant and had been since she relocated to Bendover, he had a hard time understanding what her rationale was for the choice. Was it a safety thing? A cocoon issue? What?

He looked at the two-story rectangular building and then at the funky barn garage.

“I’ve got some ideas,” he mumbled, unsure how much authority he had and also whether he was overstepping big time where Remy was concerned.

“Give it to me,” Cal told him as he switched to a blank screen. “I’ll make notes.”

This was one of those times when beating around the bush would be stupid. Cal was a guy. He’d understand. From the things Finn had heard about him, he and Charlie Wilde were essentially living as unmarried man and wife. According to the ladies’ gossip—something he was privy to because, well, Pete’s—Cal’s lady was a bit of a peace and love hippie who, while ecstatic about their commitment, wasn’t foaming at the mouth to walk down the aisle.

Man, he thought with a sigh, there seems to be a lot of that going around.

“So here’s the thing, Cal. I’m going to marry that girl in the middle apartment.”

“Congratulations,” Cal barked.

Finn sniggered. “Yeah, well save the best wishes for when she gives in. Ya feel me?”

“Oh, my god!” Cal laughed and slapped his leg. “Is it in the water or something?”

“Nah. The water is imbued with some kind of fertility mojo, though, so you may wanna keep that in mind.”

They high-fived, and Cal drawled, “No joke, man. There are days when I think a shotgun wedding might be the only way. So what are you thinking for the upstairs?”

“Big ass apartment. Two bedrooms, an office, couple of bathrooms, and off the end? A deck to watch the sunset. That view is magnificent. And then that piece of crap,” he said with a finger stabbing the air. “Redo it so it’s an actual garage and build an upstairs studio with big windows and a deck facing the other way. Small bathroom is fine, but the studio needs a deep utility sink and lots of built-ins and counters.”

“You’ve given this thought.”

Finn nodded. “I’m assuming you’re aware of the Justice security situation? Well, as much as I like living in town and sort of commuting to work and the Villa, I’m not willing to expose Remy to any risks. We bounce back and forth from my place to hers, but it’s getting old. Also, and not for nothing, I think permanent plans will spur her to make an honest man out of me.”

Cal looked at him and then at each building. “Suggestion?”

“Sure,” Finn replied.

“This may sound weird but hear me out. First, if we’re looking at one residence rather than multi-unit use, then that outside walkway has to go. The deck off the back is brilliant, so what I’m thinking is we can knock out the long wall and bring additional square footage into the residence. A covered breezeway connecting the two buildings on the second floor is how I envision this. At ground level, we can build a secure entrance with an easy two-part staircase complete with landing.”

“Lots of possibilities, huh? I’ll have a talk with my brother-in-law. See what he’ll get on board with.”

FiFi trotted toward them and went to Cal for attention.

“The funky grass patch has to stay.” Finn pointed at it. “She doesn’t care for dirt and rocks.”

Cal fluffed FiFi’s head and then gave him a serious look. “You want me to work up some outdoor options?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t that what a deck is for?”

“Well, yeah, sure. But I was thinking more along the lines of a little gazebo over there,” Cal said as he pointed. “Maybe some fake turf to give it a green pop. And a swing set.”

Finn was momentarily startled. “What?”

“Just sayin’ is all,” Cal murmured. “Look, man, all I think about twenty-four seven is the family Charlie and I want.” He rolled one shoulder. “Finn, come on. What you’re describing is a family home. Just figured maybe you and the lovely Miss Bisset might be looking ahead? Or am I wrong?”

Oh, man. He thought his heart was going to thump right out of his chest. What Cal said hit the nail on the head and pounded the fucker flat. Finn wanted all of it. The complicated wife. The silly dog. The cozy house. The rug rats.

Whatever it took. Whatever it took.

“Ow, shit!” Remy angrily kicked the crap out of the sink cabinet when she bent forward to dry her hair and banged both her elbow and her knee in the cramped space. Taking out her frustration on the contractor-grade bathroom fixtures was childish but so the fuck what? Drying her long mane required some Rapunzel moves with the hair dryer—made ten times harder in the small bathroom.

What she wouldn’t give for a real spa bathroom like the one her dad surprised her mom with for her birthday two years ago. He often teased that his wife liked spending time in her bathroom more than she liked hanging out with him. Remy sided with her mom. Women, bathrooms, and closets were meant to be best friends, and men would be better served by going with the flow.

By the time her hair was crispy on the ends but still damp in the middle, she’d had enough. Ripping the hair dryer’s plug out of the socket above the sink, she wrapped the cord around the device and tossed it into the cabinet. In addition to being microscopic in size, her bathroom also had no goddamn air flow except for a standard ceiling vent that sounded like coffee grinding when turned on.

She looked in the mirror, winced at her reflection, and griped. “I need another shower.” Her face was rosy red and covered in a sheen of sweat. Making matters worse was the trickle of perspiration running down her spine and a puddle that formed between her boobs.

“I give up.”

Grabbing an elastic band from a cheap plastic dish she kept on the toilet tank, Remy hurriedly gathered her hair into a craptacular half damp tail and tied it off.

On her way from the bathroom to the kitchen, she managed to frown at everything. She hated her furniture and the low ceilings. She hated everything on the walls except her artwork. She hated her Walmart dishes and silverware. She suspected she’d been drunk when she picked out the kitchen table set because it was not her style at all.

She especially detested the closed in feel of the small apartment. Lately, she’d even started to grow weary of her less than adequate studio.

What the hell was happening to her? She had to ask because she was also sick to death of everything in her closet, had started secretly shopping for shoes online at Zappos, and just last week when she was in Phoenix to pick up a delivery of truck parts, she went to the freakin’ mall of all places and actually spent time at the perfume counter. Not only that, but she also sat through a skin analysis and a makeover that ended up surprising her. Surprised her so damn much that she plunked a couple of hondos for a wagon full of cosmetics, moisturizers, serums, and complexion treatments. Her favorites were these weird little face masks infused with skin-refreshing botanicals.

Ha! She sounded like a shopping channel hostess.

The apartment door opened and closed. FiFi yipped excitedly and ran to Remy. She dashed in circles around her ankles a few times and then went straight to her water bowl.

“Good morning again, beautiful,” Finn quipped when he grabbed her from behind and put his face in her neck. “Mmm. My coconut girl. Love the smell of your shampoo. Makes me want to eat you up.”

Instead of wriggling out of his strong embrace, she relaxed and enjoyed his presence. She liked the feel of his naked chest and manly arms holding her close. He gently kissed her cheek.

When he tightened his hold, one of his hands slid under her boobs.

“Honey. Why are you so warm? Do you have a temperature?”

Before she could explain, he whipped her around and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. He was ready to break out his triage skills for her at the drop of a hat. For this and many other reasons, she found Finn O’Brien utterly adorable.

“I’m fine.” She chuckled. “A hair dryer in that small bathroom turns the space into an oven. Just took a shower but now I’m all sweaty! Have to change my T-shirt.”

“Alex offered us the casita. If we want it.”

“What? Why?” Remy sensed something was up, but her surprise at Finn’s statement and Alex’s unusual offer threw her off.

She could see him weighing his words. What manner of man was Finn? Remy knew he loved her, whatever that meant. She wasn’t much of an expert. But what made her stop and think was the way he conducted himself. Of course, her having gotten close to his dad helped a lot in understanding Finn.

The way he balanced on an emotional razor’s edge for her was astonishing. One minute, he was snarky and teasing, and the next, he was worried she had a fever. Even after the blowjob hit and run she whipped out of her ass, he didn’t push, didn’t confront, and didn’t ever let her feel bad about their weird dynamic.

At times like now when it was glaringly obvious he was parsing his words because of her, she examined her heart and conscience. Finn just would never deliberately hurt her. It wasn’t in his emotional makeup. Not only that, but the man was fully and, if he got his way, irrevocably committed to this relationship in all its messy, chaotic glory.

She loved him but didn’t know how to get the ball moving downfield.

He feathered his fingers softly across her forehead and down to her ear. Remy’s heart softened for the big Irish lug.

“Well,” he began in answer to why Alex offered the family casita, “this place has run its course, don’t you think? It’s too damn small and suffers from a Y2K curse—last century design and a total lack of tech support. We have far too many charging cords and plug adapters. The stove is circa Flintstones era, and there’s not enough light.”

Squinting into his face as he laid out the case against her security blanket, Remy caught herself digging her nails into his bare skin where her hands rested on his waist.

“I believe he’s planning a complete renovation of this building. Ladies clubhouse downstairs, overkill by the way, and something more functional and homier up here.”

“But,” she blurted out, “um, what about me?”

“Easy, love.” He rubbed her arms and encouraged her to breathe deeply along with him.

She bit her lip so damn hard tears pooled in her eyes.

“Babe, what is it about this shithole that works for you? Talk to me, Remington. I’ve never understood why you took the shittiest apartment—the one in the middle with no view.”

Oh, fuck. He nailed her with that observation. How the hell was she going to explain? She lowered her forehead to his chest and sighed. This man was far too observant.

Clutching his waist, she used him for physical balance because with one question her emotional equilibrium was shot to hell.

“Jason brought me here. Did you know? One day, without warning, he swooped in and plucked me from a pretty fucked-up situation.”

“Marion Ravenwood?” he gently asked.

The movie character comparison was hideously spot-on. Add a heavy hand of futile revenge embellishments and you got a cringe-worthy view of her past.

“Yes. And whatever you think you know, it was so much worse. I was on the fast track to hell when he pulled the plug. Anyway, after arriving here, I was hanging by a thread. Fearful of fucking up, I figured at any moment someone was going to realize I was incompetent. At first, even I assumed my position was a pity party. I felt like a pretender, and the last thing I wanted was to draw attention my way. The apartment choice reflects my sense of worth at that time. I was a welfare case, military style, and didn’t feel as though things like a great view or basic comfort were justified. If they’d offered me a yurt in the desert with no bathroom and a Weber grill for cooking, I would have felt that was my due.”

“Did it ever occur to you that by settling for crumbs, you managed to hurt Alex’s feelings?”

“What do you mean?”

Finn sighed heavily and held her gaze. “He won’t say anything. Zorro keeps his own counsel on stuff like this, but you aren’t a charity case. The guy respects the fuck out of your abilities, and it needs to be said that you wouldn’t be within a hundred miles of Justice if that weren’t the god’s honest truth. Alex takes this shit seriously. You’re part of the inner circle, and he trusts you. He’s also an old-school dick with control issues.”

She laughed. It was funny. And true.

“By holing up here like a criminal on parole, you deprived him of his crazy fucking need to take care of the ones who matter. You matter, Remy, and no, not because of me. If anything”—he snickered—“you giving me a shot kind of tarnished your gold plating.”

And then there was that. She snigger-giggled. “Yeah, I can see that. Putting up with your ginger bullshit must make me look mental.”

He smacked her ass. She whelped and shoved at his chest.

“Be nice, Miss Bisset.”

“Fuck off, Beantown. Now what does all this have to do with the casita?”

“Believe it or not, babe, Alex renovating this building has everything to do with you. Oh, he’ll hide his real intentions with a lot of sarcastic bluster about the downstairs, and the women will help his nonsense along, knowing full well what’s really happening is him wanting to give you, and me by default, a place. Something permanent. A home, not a place to store your stuff.”

“Oh, my god. Are you serious?”

“Yeah. When I took FiFi down to the poop pad, I found Caleb lurking in the shadows. He’s drawing up plans and has some artistic rap about checking out the property at sunrise and sunset so he can visualize or some nonsense.”

“Wait, are you saying it’s that far along? Designs and stuff? Why am I not aware of this?”

He hugged her. “I’m thinking the Major has a lot on his plate right now. To him, a thought is a plan, and that’s the end of it. He wants something done, says so, and then he moves on. Also, and don’t freak out or anything, but your boss has a piece of the Fremy betting pool.”

“The what?”

“Aw, come on.” He chuckled. “You work with these yahoos. Are you really unaware that they have a bet about us?”

She scowled. “Who’s holding the book? Tell me ’cause I’m gonna kill the bastard.”

When he smiled and smirked, she knew who was taking the bets and grumbled, “Motherfucker. Really? Domineau?”

“I believe,” he told her with a jostle and a wink, “that she imagines the clever deflection to what we’re up to somehow shields her from a similar bet involving Smoke and that bald giant.”

Her barking laugh was automatic. “And do those two get a stupid couples name? I mean, really. Fremy? Come on.”

“Hey, be nice! I like it. Fremy. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Well”—she sniffed as amused outrage tickled her funny bone—“at least I get top billing. You’re reduced to just an F.”

His gorgeous eyes flared. She saw the fire as it began to smolder. “F marks the spot.”

“Go take your shower,” she suggested.

He snickered. It was his way. “Yeah, about that. Have a promise to keep.”

Her brows bumped down in confusion, and she asked, “A shower promise?”

Finn’s next snicker had a lusty quality that made her gulp. It didn’t help that he took her hand and placed it on his crotch. “Promised to give the Louisville Slugger a few swings. Maybe a couple of tugs. Have to work on my grip.”

She didn’t consider the ramifications of her words until after they were out. “Can I watch?”

“Say again?” He sounded confused. She didn’t blame him.

“Can I watch you, uh, handle your wood?”

The intensity of his searching stare gave her the willies. “Are you serious?”

She responded firmly. “Yes.”

He took her hand and led her into the cramped bathroom. “Last exit,” he murmured as he gave her a chance to escape.

Remy didn’t hesitate. She unsnapped his jeans and lowered the zipper on his pants.

He grabbed her wrists, and she stopped. Meeting his eyes, she colored beet red when he asked if he could watch while she reciprocated. The very idea shook her up.

“Probably not,” she drawled. “Uh, performance anxiety.”

“It was worth a shot,” he teased. Then without warning, he whipped her T-shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. “Inspiration,” he growled before dropping a quick kiss on the mounded tops of her boobs.

After years of strapping the girls down and using sports bras to render her curves indistinguishable, she’d started expanding her lingerie horizons. Finn liked whatever she wore. He was a guy, so what did he know anyway? But the thing was, on a whim after reading an article about bra sizes, she’d had her boobage professionally measured and knowing her correct size changed everything. Her current favorite was a demi bra that made the most of her natural shape hence the jiggling mounds.

He dropped his pants in the hallway, and she feigned a swoon that was more real than he knew. It wasn’t enough that he was built like a Roman god. He also had a manly cock that she found quite beautiful.

“All right, you cheeky wench, cut it out.” He laughed. “Have a seat, m’lady.”

When he dropped the toilet cover with a loud bang, she had to laugh. In what alternate universe were they that she, Remington Bisset, was parked on the john waiting for Finn O’Brien to jerk off for her? And in the shower, no less!

She watched him as he quickly washed his gorgeous body. The smell of his body wash made her giddy. After a quick head scrub and rinse, he adjusted the water temperature and looked at her.

Was she biting her lip? Yes. Was she excited beyond belief? Also, yes.

Not knowing what to expect, she was riveted by his every move. He slid the shower door open, ignored the fact that water was probably going to end up everywhere, and positioned his body for maximum viewing. Leaning against the shower wall, he started to stroke his hard cock while she watched, transfixed.

Soon, she became frustrated by the angle of her view and got on her knees for a straight shot. Something was deliciously erotic about kneeling by the shower stall while her boyfriend pleasured himself less than two feet from her face.

His hands and how they moved fascinated her. She studied the way he held his balls and the grip that made his cock swell. For no reason other than it seemed like the thing to do, she removed her bra.

Finn’s eyes fixed on her breasts. His hand moved slowly from root to tip and then did a weird little twist of his cock’s fat head.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?”

Beantown tried on endearments the way she tried on shoes. He’d been surfing around this one for a while. Babe, she was used to. It was an innocuous term. Baby, on the other hand, implied something else. Something that made her feel wholly feminine in a way that shocked her inner badass.

She met his eyes and spoke her truth. “You’re so beautiful, Finn.” Shyly, hesitantly she asked, “May I touch you?”

His gaze dropped to her tits. “Oh god, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He was right, but she was beyond caring. “Please?”

Reluctantly but with a carnal gleam in his sexy eyes, he took a step and then another until his hard cock was within licking distance.

“Hands only,” he growled in warning as she reached for him.

Yeah. She already learned that uncomfortable lesson. The next time she took him in her mouth, the experience had to be mutual. Period. She’d gone way too far by sucking him to a mind-blowing climax while unfairly keeping him out of her panties.

The steam and the warm water made the pleasure of touching him almost more than she could take. Her hands slid easily over his flesh. After just a few strokes, he covered her hand with his to demonstrate what turned him on. Fondling his balls, she got a thunderous groan from him by squeezing his cock while playing with the twin spheres she found completely fascinating. One of his hands gripped the shower door while the other braced against the wall. When his hips jutted forward, she took advantage of the invitation.

It didn’t take long after that before he shuddered and moved out of her reach. He took over, and she stared while his cock exploded. Some of his release was washed away by the water but some also landed on her boobs.

Finn groaned as he came. The sound of his pleasure turned her on more than she anticipated. He was right. This wasn’t their best idea.

When it was over, he stood beneath the stream of water, his eyes open, and stared at her. She didn’t overanalyze the lust in his expression.

Standing, she reached into the shower and turned off the water. She took a towel from the wall bar and motioned for him to step onto the bath mat.

Silently, he did what she asked. Remy kissed his chest and then took her time drying every square inch of his magnificent body. The minute she finished, he grabbed her hand and dragged her into the living room.

Remy wasn’t stupid. She knew he deliberately avoided the bed.

He held her tight, tugging her ponytail until her head fell back. When his mouth claimed hers, she knew they were in dangerous territory.

At first, she was unresisting in his arms, but as the kissed deepened and became carnal, she clung to him and gave back all that she could. Her tits pillowed against his hard, muscular chest did funny things to her senses.

Without warning, he ripped their mouths apart. They stared at each other, their chests heaving. Sex was in the air and would not be denied. If she wanted to stop this, now was the moment.

Having no idea where this intimate encounter would lead, she threw herself at him and demanded more kisses. Wriggling in his embrace, Remy couldn’t stop her body’s frantic need for more.

The things he did with his tongue made her quiver. Someday, maybe soon, she wanted to feel his warm breath between her legs. Recently, her fantasy of Finn licking her pussy had destroyed a couple of pairs of panties.

Suddenly, he reared back, and without pause, he dropped in front of her, undid her jeans, and forcefully yanked them down her legs. She was disappointed when he didn’t also remove her panties.

With a gentle shove, she went tumbling backward onto the sofa. Before she could untangle from the awkward fall, he was on top of her. From there all she could do was hang on.

There was making out, and then there was feasting on her body. Finn treated her nipples and breasts like a gourmet meal. He devoured her in a manner that left no doubt how deeply passionate he was. She clung to him, relished the sensation of his big body on top of her, and did her own devouring of his neck and shoulder. There may have been a love bite, possibly several, she wasn’t sure.

Nervousness cut through the arousal when his hand started drifting south. He bit her neck, and the alpha imprint sliced through the fear. It was the first time she fully understood the depth of Finn’s masculinity. The realization hit home because it was a bold reminder of how controlled he’d been with her. Until now.

“Lift your leg, baby.” He had a hand beneath her thigh to encourage her to move. Without thinking, she wrapped her leg around his hip.

The masterful kissing continued. So did his slowly drifting hand. When Finn’s fingers reached the elastic of her cotton panties, she started melting down knowing what came next.

He kissed and licked a path to her tits and made her writhe and moan while he did yummy things to her nipples. As he nipped at one, she felt his hand slid inside her underwear. His initial exploratory touch revealed how aroused she was. Rearing back, he waited till she met his eyes. His cheekbones were highlighted with color, and his mouth looked swollen from the intense kissing.

Releasing a sexy hiss, he never looked away as he growled, “Your pussy is dripping.”

She whimpered. “Finn, please?”

Her eyes closed and a deep groan—hers—filled the air when he sank a finger inside her body. It was, quite simply, the sexiest, most electric, and intimate moment of her entire life. Her hips moved of their own volition.

“Yes,” he grunted against her neck. “My baby likes this, hmm?”

A sensation unlike anything she’d previously known surged through her body.

He kissed her madly, passionately, and deeply while his fingers turned her into a desperate wanton. She became frantic. The increasing arousal sent her hurtling toward something she couldn’t comprehend. Sex hadn’t been about pleasure for her in a very long time.

“My love,” Finn grunted against her ear. “It’s all right, baby. I’ve got you.”

Undulating against his marauding hand, she got lost in Finn’s mastery of her pussy. Something drove her on, something desperate and very, very greedy.

With his tongue in her mouth and his fingers in her body, he brought her to a shuddering climax. She shook so strongly her whole quaked.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunted. “Come for me, my darling.”

“Finn,” she cried. “Oh, Finn.”

Her entire being melted. Nothing in life prepared her for the emotional impact of surrendering to their wild passions.

Rigid once again, she felt his cock pressed against her hip. Some part of her wanted him to shift and enter her, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Despite this new intimacy, they weren’t there yet.

Holding her close as she came down from the incredible orgasm, he whispered words of love and praise that went straight to her heart.

A long time after, they were dressed and shyly grinning at each other. Maybe it was all kinds of fucked up, but she couldn’t imagine a better way to have begun this day than by being masterfully fingered by her sexy Irishman.