Player - A Deadliest Lies Novel - Michele Mannon Page 0,68

across the hard wood.

A whimper escapes her lips as I push a finger into her. I can do this all day, and every day. Withdrawing my hand, I hold up my glistening finger. “You ready for a ride to heaven and back?”

A ride to heaven before I go straight to hell.

“Please.”

I step forward and grab her hips, dragging her to the edge of the table. Lining her sweet pussy up with my cock.

“Fuck me, Finn.”

Using my hips, I spread her thighs wide before sinking two fingers into her. Spiraling them around and preparing her for my assault.

She moans, loving my touch.

Blood fills my cock until I’m harder than I’ve ever been. She always does this to me, her and her alone. Pushing me to the edge and making me want to lose control. Striking up this yearning in me to the point I don’t know which way is up or down.

I withdraw my fingers then, in slow circles, spread her moisture over her clit.

“Ah,” she moans, pressing her palms against the wood surface to support the eager arch of her hips.

I nudge the thick head against her and line up. “What do you want, Clarissa?” I demand, needing that filthy mouth of hers.

“You, Finn. Only you.”

I’m too startled to move, to think, to process her words, but she isn’t finished feckin’ with me. Thrusting forward, her lips part and my cock slips inside like it belongs there. Blood rushes to my head as my heart pounds a hole in my chest. She pushes forward another half inch, and then I lose my bloody mind.

Flexing, I shove deep, filling her with my hardness.

She screams.

The sound only fuels my hunger.

I drag my cock out then thrust, drag, and thrust, feeling her taking every feckin’ inch of me, riding her hard and deep. Each drive home forces her several inches back on the table and when that becomes enough, I crawl on top without breaking the frantic pace I’ve set, pounding into her full force. Hearing her cry out in pleasure as I fuck her like a man possessed.

I’m an animal. Grunting and moaning and cursing beneath my breath. Judging by the sounds she’s making, she’s no better.

I fuck her into the table.

I fuck her into tomorrow.

I fuck her into my goddamn soul.

And when she comes, so beautifully, so greedily, I feel it before I hear it. “God, I love you.”

I shout as I come, frantically thrusting into her as I shoot my seed deep.

We still, and I find I can’t move. The weight of what just happened pinning me in place. Aren’t women emotional after sex? Aren’t men supposed to just want to get going? How is it I feel like I just lost my first love? Why is it that the world could be falling to bloody pieces and I’d still want this moment to last?

The table creeks in warning then wobbles beneath us.

“Finn,” Clarissa shrieks.

And then we’re falling.

I tug her to me and roll as we hit the floor, taking the brunt of our landing and the weight of her lovely body as it slams into me.

For a few seconds, we lay in silence. Until she bursts into laughter and I find myself joining in.

Finally, she shifts and sits up, straddling my hips and smiling down at me. But it lasts a whole of five seconds when we realize, at exactly the same moment, I’m still buried inside her—and I’m hard again.

“Happy birthday, Finn,” she murmurs, settling on me for another ride.

Broken table, but does this have to end with broken hearts?

I relax into the bits and pieces of table beneath me and let things be as they’re meant to be. Feeling hopeful, for an eegit with a death wish hanging over his head should.

Clarissa

The man has the stamina of a stallion. Twenty-four hours of naughtiness and Finn still refuses to leave the room. Who would have guessed that bumbling oaf Antonio, who kissed like a Brillo Pad and who had the bedside manners of a caveman could make me scream his name with the slightest touch?

“You should be training,” I remind him, half-heartedly.

“Not finished with you yet, storeen,” he’d growled, tossing me back on the bed. That was hours ago.

My stomach grumbles and I reluctantly order room service, having stalled as long as I could while Finn fixes the broken table. The fresh air from an opened windows helps clear the smell of sex—at least, I’m hoping it will before the innkeeper knocks on our door. Finn, of course,