Out of Time (Out of Line #2)(6)
Author: Jen McLaughlin

And I had a lot of ideas stored away in my mind that I wanted to try out on Finn.

I climbed off the bed and rose on tiptoes, kissing him. His tongue rubbed against mine, making my stomach clench. When I slid my hands down over his pecs and abs and then up under his shirt, he groaned into my mouth. My nails scraped his skin, and I pulled back long enough to pull his shirt over his head.

I stood back and looked at him, his gaze burning into mine as I did so. His dark ink swirled up his arms and over his biceps before it crept over his shoulders and chest. I never got sick of looking at his tattoos. I loved deciphering them and admiring how they intertwined with perfection.

He looked the part of the stereotypical bad boy…when he was anything but.

He was a contradiction at its hottest. I ran my tongue over the black tattoo that swirled over his left pec, grinning when he hissed and gripped my hips. After I nipped at the skin, I pulled back enough to say, “New rule, love. You aren’t allowed to wear shirts around me anymore.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

He lifted a shoulder. “It might take some explaining when we go back to D.C., but I bet I can make it work.”

“I bet you could, too.”

I stepped closer, my leg between his, and tipped my head back to look up at him. His blue eyes shined down at me, and his light brown curls stuck up a bit, probably because I’d run my fingers through them a few times.

His hands still gripped my hips, and they flexed on me. “Ginger…” he said, his tone strained and raspy. The way he sounded, all turned on and needy, washed over me and landed somewhere in my stomach, twisting and turning into a knot. “I’m going to—”

“I know,” I said, smiling up at him. “Believe me, I know.”

I dropped to my knees and undid the button of his pants. As I unzipped his jeans, he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, letting me work as slowly as I wanted. It might be torture for him, but I knew he’d let me do whatever the hell I wanted, even if it killed him.

When I pulled down his jeans and let them fall to his feet, he kicked out of them without opening his eyes. Leaning in, I cupped his erection through his boxers, closing my hand around him and squeezing. He hissed and moved his hips back, my hand tight on him. Then he arched into me.

The look of pleasure on his face almost did me in. Touching wasn’t enough. He seemed to agree. Reaching down, he yanked off his boxers, and as soon as he was out of my way, I flicked my tongue over the head of his erection.

“Jesus, Carrie.” His hands burrowed into my hair and held me in place. “Give me more.”

I groaned and took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue in circles around him. My God, he felt good there—almost as good as he felt when he was inside me. The skin was so smooth and hard at the same time…and so freaking intoxicating. I’d never get enough of him. I took more of him in my mouth, and he looked down at me—his jaw ticking and his body tightly wound.

His blue eyes burned with heated need, and he urged me even closer, his jaw flexing as he arched into my mouth. I closed my eyes and let out a soft moan. The urgent need to be taken by him was growing even stronger. Especially when I tasted the salty tang of something I could only assume was his se**n. And I wanted more.

“Enough,” he said, his voice harsh.

He groaned and lifted me to my feet, crashing his mouth into mine before I could even protest that I hadn’t finished. Within seconds, all thoughts of protesting faded away behind the need to be touched. My nails raked over his shoulders, trying to get him even closer to me, and he deepened the kiss until I was flat on my back on the bed. He moved between my thighs, where I needed him so freaking much, and rolled his hips against me.

I might not have control anymore, but I didn’t care.

I just needed him.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, but my stupid clothes were in the way. I pulled back and undid my pants, my hands trembling too badly to be fast.

“Hurry up,” he growled, ripping them down my legs and tossing them onto the floor. He continued removing my clothing with jerky movements, his hands steady and sure. He stopped when I was in my red bra and lacy red thong. “These can stay.”

Without warning, he flipped me onto my stomach and lowered himself on top of me. It took me a second to adjust to the new position, but then I was ready and willing to move on to the next step. Him—inside of me.

But instead of moving forward to give me what I wanted, he nibbled on my earlobe, biting down just enough to sting. I moaned, the sound escaping from somewhere deep within me. The way he felt, cradling me from behind, drove me insane with want.

“Finn, now.” I moved underneath of him restlessly, my whole body humming with desire and electric need. “Please.”

He groaned, his hands flexing on my hips, and bit down on my shoulder before licking away the pain. “Fuck, Ginger. I need you so bad.”

“Then take me,” I breathed, my fingers digging into the mattress and clinging to the comforter. I had a feeling I’d be hanging on for dear life soon. “Right here. Like this.”

He moaned. “Not quite yet. You’re not ready.”

He kissed a path over my shoulder blade, then nibbled on the spot right over my bra clasp. I let out a ragged moan I barely recognized as my own and arched my back. He needed to touch me more. Kiss me more. Do more, before I exploded.

He undid my bra and I impatiently threw it to the side, and he cupped my br**sts from behind. I cried out when he rolled my ni**les in between his fingers, squeezing with the perfect amount of pressure, and my stomach hollowed out.

He rolled his hips against me again, mimicking making love, and I clenched my teeth. He was driving me insane with desire and he wasn’t even really trying, damn it. I needed…needed…him. Now.

He pushed off me and positioned me with my legs spread more widely, but I was still on all fours. I felt extremely exposed in this position, but it was Finn. And with Finn, I could do anything. I studied him from my weird position, watching as desire darkened his gaze. Watched his erection grow even harder and his breathing become even more erratic.

I watched hungrily as he rolled a condom on. He watched me as if I was his reward for good behavior—and I really hoped he never stopped looking at me like that.

He crossed the room, his eyes on my spread thighs. “You might want to hold on tight, Ginger.”

I fisted my hands tighter into the comforter when he positioned himself behind me. He slid the small scrap of my lace thong to the side and ran his tongue up my slit. I cried out and dug my knees into the mattress. The shock of pleasure his tongue brought me hit me hard and fast. “Oh my God, Finn.”