Jen McLaughlin: Out of Time

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 breasts from behind. I cried out when he rolled my nipples 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.”

“You have no idea how fucking beautiful you look right now,” he said, his voice so low I barely heard him. I wanted to press my thighs together to ease the empty ache I was feeling without him inside of me, but I couldn’t. Not with him in between them. “I bet you want me to taste you again. Don’t you?”

“ Yes .”

He didn’t tease me. Didn’t waste any time. He flicked his tongue over my clit, then sucked me in between his lips, rolling his tongue perfect circles. When he scraped his teeth against me gently, I cried out and pushed back, demanding more. He gripped my hips with his hands, kneeling behind me and going down on me from behind.

The erotic image this presented made me twitch with pleasure, building higher and higher until I couldn’t stand it for another second. Everything inside of me burst into fragments, shattering into even smaller pieces until I wasn’t even sure if I existed anymore. I cried out and froze, seeing and hearing nothing. Only feeling .

He pressed his tongue against my clit, prolonging the orgasm even more, and cupped my butt. “Fuck, Carrie,” he groaned.

Then he drove inside me—hard and fast. Having him inside me felt so fabulous I wondered for a second if I was dreaming. But then he thrust back into me, and I snapped back into reality. And Finn in real life was so much better than a fantasy.

I dropped my head to the mattress when he withdrew almost all the way, closing my eyes tight and holding my breath in anticipation. When he was almost all the way out, he thrust back inside of me, then repeated the motion until I was whimpering and moaning his name.

He picked up the tempo, and tears stung my eyes. The amount of pleasure he was bringing down on me was actually making me cry. Pleasure so strong I couldn’t even freaking handle it without whimpering into the mattress as he barreled into me again and again without restraint. He withdrew, flipped me over on to my back, and drove inside me again. When he changed his angle, going even deeper, I screamed.

Actually screamed .

My toes curled and I clenched down on him, my walls squeezing. He groaned and pumped faster, his face lost in the rapture of the moment. When he thrust inside me again, he went spiraling over the edge and collapsed over me, keeping his weight on his elbows.

Once we regained control of our breathing, he rolled to the side and dragged me with him. I clung to him and rested my head on his chest, right over the spot where there wasn’t a tattoo. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he had plans for that spot, but I realized I couldn’t form a coherent word.

So I smiled instead.

“That was a nice way to forget about the stress, huh?” he asked, his lips twitching. He played with a piece of my hair, gently tugging on it. It made me shiver. “And here I was going to suggest surfing as a good method of forgetting about shit.”

I took a deep breath, hoping when I opened my mouth that something besides an unintelligible grunt came out. “We can do that in the morning. I have a late class,” I said, my heart finally settling back into a normal rhythm. And, lo and behold, I could talk. “But as far as this particular method of distraction goes? I plan on doing it again and again and again until this weekend…”

“Uh-huh. I see, I see.” He nodded and pursed his lips seriously, as if we were discussing world politics. “But then what? We just stop?”

“No, then we find out what’s next.” I leaned up and kissed him softly. “And we deal with it.”

But I really wanted to know what it was.

Sooner rather than later.

“Let’s go do something fun,” I said, my hand on her lower back. She’d just finished studying, and we’d been sitting in silence ever since. I needed to make her stop thinking about what we’d be going through. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never did?”

“Skydive?”

I flinched. “I can’t pull that together on short notice.”

“Bungee jumping?”

I laughed uneasily. “Do you have a fucking death wish? Jesus.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nope. I just like the rush.”

“Yeah, well, tone it down a notch. How about roller-skating? Or ice-skating? Or what about—”

“Rock climbing.” She sat up straight, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve always wanted to rock climb.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” She nodded enthusiastically. I hadn’t seen her this excited since the time I told her I’d teach her how to surf. “Do you know how?”

“I used to do it as a kid. Back when my dad still worked here.”

“Were you good?”

I tugged on my hair. “My mom had tons of videos of me doing it. I found them the last time I went through the boxes in our attic. I guess I was okay.”

“Your mom recorded you?” She smiled and squeezed my hand. “That’s so cute.”

I nodded. “She was that kind of mom. She came to everything with that damn camera in her hand.”

Without even realizing it, I grinned, remembering how much it used to embarrass me. Now, I’d give anything to have her on the sidelines, watching me through a lens and cheering me on. She’d died of cancer when I was sixteen. I hadn’t been the same since.

Carrie squeezed my hand again, then dropped a kiss on my jaw. “Let’s go do it. Your mom would like to see you back up on a wall, I bet.”