The Stranger Behind My Orgasm novel Chapter 281

Chapter 281: I WANT TO TASTE EVERY INCH OF YOU

Abigail

For the first time in a long while, there was peace when we woke up. No hospital monitors, screaming, or footsteps in the hallway. I could hear the gentle rush of waves against the island’s shore.

The second thing I noticed was the warm, rich scent of coffee. I opened my eyes to golden morning light filtering through sheer curtains, to the sight of Finnegan sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me with soft green eyes.

He was already dressed, if you could call swim trunks and an unbuttoned white linen shirt dressed. His dark hair was still damp from an early shower, and there was a mug of black coffee in his hand.

"Good morning, love," he said softly, handing me the cup of coffee.

"Morning," I croaked, my voice thick with sleep. "Ew, I sound like a gremlin."

He chuckled and leaned down, brushing hair from my face while I took a sip of the rich black coffee. I had to admit it was calming, and I didn’t feel like puking my guts out.

"How are you feeling, my little gremlin?"

I stretched, arching my back, beaming when his eyes followed the covers as they slid down my body.

The nausea from yesterday seemed to have reduced, and I felt amazing.

"I feel really good," I murmured.

"Are you sure? Abby, we can go to the clinic—"

"Noooo," I shook my head. "I had some of that nice soup Meemaw made for me last night, so I feel great,"

He sighed, eyes still flickering with worry. "If you say so,"

"I say so. Now come give me a kiss,"

His eyes darkened as I wiggled my fingers at him. He chuckled and leaned down, pressing his mouth to mine in a slow, bone-melting kiss.

Oh yeah, this was the life. When he pulled back, I chased his mouth, but he evaded me, his lips traveling down my jaw instead, my throat, the hollow of my collarbone.

"Everyone’s meeting for breakfast in an hour," he murmured against my skin.

"Then we’re going to the waterfall. It’s really spectacular."

"Mm," I agreed, though I was rapidly losing interest in waterfalls and gaining interest in much more important things.

Like his hands skimming down my skin. God, this never got old.

His hands found the hem of my shirt — well, his shirt, technically. I had stolen it from his luggage and worn it to bed.

He pushed it up, exposing my stomach. His mouth followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses across my ribs, my navel, the curve of my hip.

"Mhmm," I breathed, my fingers finding his hair.

"That good?" he teased.

He pulled the shirt over my head, leaving me naked in the golden light, and sat back on his heels to look at me. His gaze traveled from my face down my body with so much hunger that my cheeks burned.

He started at my ankles, kissing the arch of each foot, the inside of my knees, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. By the time he reached my hips, my hands were fisting in the sheets, waiting for him to seal his mouth to my cunt.

"Mhmm, I’ll save that for later," he murmured.

"I want to taste every inch of you first."

"Tease," I groaned.

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