I groan, pushing my head back into the mattress and gritting my teeth.

“I like seeing you so impatient,” he whispers, bending to kiss my collarbone. “You have any idea how you look right now? Dripping wet all over me?”

He knows I don’t have words and doesn’t really seem to expect an answer as he pushes in, inch by inch, reaching down to circle his thumb around my clit, murmuring, “Ah, ah, ah, don’t come yet.”

But when he pulls back, he barely takes a breath before thrusting back in and then I know it’s on. He gives me all of it, his hard thrusts and those low, animals sounds he makes with every one. His hands, so big, curled around my body, holding me steady as he fucks so hard.

I relish this man telling me to wait.

Wait.

Not yet, Harlow. Don’t you fucking go without me.

I said wait. I’m close. I’m so fucking close.

He pulls out just when I’ve almost burst into a thousand tiny pieces, and then he eases back inside, whispering, “Wanna come?” against my neck. And I do. I do, please please, I’m begging, and I realize it only on the second, maybe the third please, and he loves it, I can tell, because he’s wild again, and for a tiny, frantic pulse I’m startled by the memory that there is something bigger than this. I squeeze my eyes closed and fall back into feeling like there isn’t anything else in the world but Finn and the way he makes me feel.

Rational thought vanishes as quickly as it peeked in, and I’m screaming as he moves back into me, grinding, grinding, grinding until I come. His palm is cupping my ass to pull me into him, his lips are on my shoulder, and his cock is so deep inside I don’t think I ever knew I could feel so full.

Finn jerks over me, his body tense as he groans against my skin. I feel the twitching of him inside me, the pounding of his heart between us—or is it mine?—I can’t even tell anymore. I have no idea where he ends and I begin.

I’m not sure which of us is more exhausted. Finn did all the work, moving over and into me, pushing and pulling me where he wanted, and yet I feel totally drained. My legs are heavy, my bones composed entirely of rubber. I could sleep for days.

It’s exactly why I’m here.

At some point Finn has unbound my wrists, rubbed his thumb along the faint red marks.

“These will fade,” he says, examining them, a hint of regret in his voice. “Probably within an hour.”

Nodding, I close my eyes, count to ten, and then move to stand. I begin to dress, feeling his eyes on me from the bed.