Jen McLaughlin: Out of Time

“Thank you for being honest right away,” she said, after letting out a sigh.

“I won’t keep anything from you. Not anymore.” I leaned down and kissed her gently, knowing she probably needed a minute to absorb all this. “We’re in this together.”

She rose up on tiptoe and kissed me, not replying. She curled her hands into my shirt, a desperation in her kiss that hadn’t been there before. She was freaking out, and I needed to make it better. I broke off the kiss again, taking a deep breath of air.

“Ginger, it’ll be okay.”

She nodded, her mouth pressed tight and her eyes narrow. “I know. Just kiss me. I need you to kiss me now .”

Well, when she put it that way, who was I to say no?

So I kissed her.

Carrie

Okay, I was trying really, really freaking hard not to start panicking.

I mean, he’d said he wasn’t going to war, or at least his unit wasn’t, so that sounded promising. But still, he’d thrown out the word deployment . I might not know much about the military, but even I knew that meant he’d be leaving me.

And if he was leaving me, I wasn’t happy.

When he closed his mouth over mine, I shut off my mind and stopped thinking. He’d already told me all he could tell me about the call, so focusing on it wasn’t the healthiest choice. We had to wait until this weekend to hear anything more. Until then we were just sitting ducks.

And if I was going to be forced to wait, then I’d do it my way.

He picked me up and carried me to his bed. He was so hard and solid and it drove me insane every time he moved his tongue over mine like that. His teeth scraped my lower lip, and I whimpered into his mouth. His fingers moved over my butt, slipping between my legs and rubbing against the spot where I needed him most.

As he lowered me to the mattress, he started to climb on top of me, but I broke the kiss and shoved at his shoulders. “No,” I said, locking gazes with him. “It’s my turn. Just stand there.”

He stilled, instantly giving me what I wanted. “Your turn for what?”

“Control,” I said, my cheeks heating. “I want to undress you. And then I want to wrap my lips around your…your…”

When I drifted off, uncertain what to call his penis, he chuckled. “Cock. It’s a cock , Carrie. Say it.”

My cheeks heated. I knew what it was called. It just sounded so dirty and wrong. “Around your cock,” I said in a rush, my cheeks getting even hotter.

“Okay.” He fisted his hands at his hips, watching me from beneath his lowered lids. When he looked at me like that—like I was his dessert or something—it made everything inside me quiver and beg for his touch so much it hurt. I licked my lips and crawled to the edge of the bed on all fours. He twitched and took a step toward me; as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, but then he stopped.

He stood there because I’d asked him to.

I ran my hands over his chest, then up over his shoulders. Just touching him made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and I wanted to do everything to him. Everything in the romance books I read at night, and then more . Even though my mother had never figured it out, I used to sneak them out of her library after she was finished with them. I’d started it in sixth grade. Now I bought them with my own money.

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 semen. 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.