Page 101 of Unmanageable

He shifts his weight, his large body crowding over mine. With one hand, he traps both of my wrists, pinning them gently above my head against the pillows.

“Finn—”

“Let me,” he grunts, looking down at me with a tilt of his head. “Come on, Sharky, tell me what to do. You love calling the shots, don’t you? Where’s all that executive authority now?”

“Don’t get cocky, O’Connell,” I gasp out. “I can still bench your career.”

He lets out a chuckle. “There she is. Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

He uses his free hand to slide down my stomach, his palm hot, dragging over my skin until it presses against my underwear.

A sharp throb makes my hips arch off the mattress instinctively, a small moan ripping from my throat.

“Yeah, writhe for me, Scottie. Scream all you want.”

Cash drops his head, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to my collarbone before he starts dragging his tongue upward. He licks slow and steady along my throat, taunting me by pulling back just when I lean in.

When he reaches my jaw, he brushes his lips against the corner of my mouth, teasing me with a breathy laugh before he takes my bottom lip between his teeth. Then he surges forward, pinning me in place as he crashes his mouth onto mine.

His tongue forces its way inside, hot and demanding, and the kiss turns instantly desperate as he pulls me tight against him.

His fingers slip beneath the elastic of my underwear, finding my pussy—

BZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZ!

The screech of my phone violently splits the room apart. The nightstand vibrates aggressively, the green digital display on the motel clock flashing 11:00 AM.

“Cash—the alarm—” I choke out, my eyes flying open as the spell shatters for a fraction of a second.

Cash doesn’t even lift his head from my neck. His left hand releases my wrists, reaches blindly across the nightstand, and wraps around the vibrating phone.

In one smooth motion, he hurls the phone. It flies over the room, smacks hard against the far beige curtain, and crashes into the corner.

“The fuck, Finnian!” I gasp as his fingers find my clit, pressing with just enough weight to send a sharp jolt through my nerves. “If that screen broke—”

“I’ll buy you ten new ones,” he grunts against my neck, his hand never breaking its rhythm.

His skin is hot and slick against my breasts, and he uses his free hand to pinch my nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until I hiss. He drags his tongue up my neck, pausing to graze his teeth against my earlobe.

“Focus on me, Scottie, and tell me what you want.”

I reach up, threading my fingers through his damp hair to pull him down closer, my breath hitching as he slips a finger deep. The stretch feels incredible, but I need more.

“Harder,” I murmur against his shoulder. “Right there.”

He lets out a rough hum of approval, his eyes dark and focused entirely on the way my skin flushes under his touch. His thumb adjusts circling my clit while his fingers stay buried deep inside, maintaining a pressure that makes my vision swim.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” I breathe, my own hands roaming over his chest and shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. I pull at his skin, needing him as close as possible. “Keep going.”

He’s relentless, his palm rubbing in rhythmic circles that make my pussy feel overstimulated. Every time he moves, I let out a sharp, involuntary sound, and he seems to feed off it, his rhythm growing more demanding, more precise.

“Yeah, just like that, Scottie,” he says, his voice vibrating against my neck. “Come on, let me see it.”

I feel the heat blooming low in my stomach, a desperate, frantic ache that’s starting to sharpen.

“God, Finn—don’t slow down,” I gasp, my head thrashing against the pillow. “Right there, keep it right there.”