Sex Scene from Finale

by Sahara Dickens

"He pulled back slowly and pushed into me again. The pain was nothing but a memory by now; there was nothing but a slight sting but it was easily ignored. When I started to move against him more eagerly, he followed suit, increasing his pace until I was screaming his name, telling him how good it was, how good he felt."

Hey.
Was I the only one who wanted to punch Fitzpatrick in the face for not writing the sex scene? One of the most anticipated scenes since the first book where Patch's sexy smirks and the way he moved his body made us very sure that he was an absolute genius in the sack?
Here's how I imagine it went down.

Enjoy!

Patch backed me up against the door to his place, kept his lips on mine, a hand sliding around my neck to hold me in place as he kept kissing me which was okay because I didn't want him to stop touching me either. The problem was that we wanted to keep kissing inside the house and normally I would insist on him opening his door so that I could kiss him like I did right now, like I knew what it felt like not to feel his touch, only away from the prying eyes of his neighbors but I just couldn't bring myself to care. Not this time. Not with the knowledge that he could finally feel me the way I felt him. Not when I knew that when I kissed him, when I touched him, he didn't only sense it like he used to, but he could feel it.

He broke away from me and I gasped in an attempt to restore my breathing. He chuckled and pressed his forehead against mine, struggling with his own breaths.
"We need to get inside," he said. "Before I lose my self-control. There's only so much I can take, Angel."
A shiver went through me at his words and the promise behind them. I locked my arms around his neck and tightened them. "So lose self-control. I'm beyond caring where you do it."
He cursed in an exhale, shuddering and closed his eyes. "We need to get inside. Now."
He tilted his head towards the lock and I heard the telltale sound of the key sliding into it. We stumbled into the house, his lips on mine again, his hands all over me.
I could feel it in his fingers, in the way he moved his lips against mine, just how starved he was for this. The desperation in his fingers that were always looking for bare skin to press against and stroke made my heart clench.
I let my fingers travel down his chest, drunk with the knowledge that he could feel it and was rewarded with a shudder. Grasping the hem of his t-shirt, I pulled it over his head, momentarily losing the press of his lips against mine, but the feel of his bare skin beneath my hands made it worth it.
He groaned at my touch, pulling away. "Bedroom."

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips. "Fine. But I won't stop kissing you."

"I don't want you to stop," he whispered.

I complied and his fingers moved up my back and then all the way down to cup me from behind. I giggled and felt his lips widen at the sound. "I love that sound," he said. "I've never noticed how it vibrates against my skin when you laugh so close to me."
In a moment of pure boldness I brushed my lips across his and whispered, "I have a feeling you will notice many things tonight."

"Angel," he almost growled. "It's taking me a lot of control not to..." he trails off and I shudder at the meaning in his words, the desire in his eyes. "Don't make me rush this. I want you, but I don't want to hurt you."
I kissed the corner of his mouth before pressing my lips softly against his. "I don't want control," I whispered. "I'm not afraid of you hurting me." I kissed him again. "I just want you close to me; as close as I can get to you. Fill the hole your absence left." I decided to ignore the other way my last demand could be interpreted. Instead I brushed my lips against his, again. "Bedroom, Patch. Now."
He caught my lips with his in a hard kiss and I tightened my limbs around him as he walked into the bedroom and over to the bed. He didn't unceremoniously deposit me on the bed like I expected but he was very careful as he laid me down and slid over me.
His body fitted against mine like it always did and his fingers began to tug at my shirt. His message was clear. Off.
I arched my back into him, pressing my breasts into his chest to take my shirt off and heard him hiss. "Go easy on me, Angel."

I laughed breathlessly, drunk with the idea of what we were doing, of where this was going, of him alone. Patch occupied all my senses; his scent when I breathed, his taste when I kissed him, his addictive body under my fingers. "No promises," I whispered when I'd disposed of my shirt.

I knew that my fingers on his bare skin, and his fingers on mine ignited his senses like his touch always did to me. I came alive under his fingertips, under his lips. My body yearning for more, my mind screaming for him to never stop. And I could feel that same response in him; in the way he touched me, but I could only imagine how amplified it was for him.
I'd never grown accustomed to the way my nerves ignited when he kissed me, when his hands moved to intimate places, like the inside of my thigh or inside the back pocket of my jeans but I knew what to expect. I was prepared for the way my body reacted.
How was it for him? I could feel how hungry he was; I heard it when he groaned, in the way he closed his eyes, as if to shut off all senses to only focus on where his skin touched mine, in the way he kissed me.
His lips broke away from mine, and my protest was cut of short when I felt his lips move lower. Over my jaw and down my throat in slow, torturous kisses that made me fist my hands in the sheets and arch my back off the bed. And always, always, I thought, He can feel this. He's feeling this. It was never too far away from my mind.

Patch's lips brushed over my collarbone and down to the valley between my breasts. I was panting, breathless. "Patch," I gasped. "I can't breathe."
He chuckled and I remembered his words from earlier as I felt the dark sound vibrate over my skin. "That means you like it."
He kissed the swell of my breasts as I buried my fingers in his hair, and he rose to brush his lips back up again and down my shoulders, shuffling my bra straps down my arms with his lips.
I knew what he wanted me to do, but he was too uncertain to voice it out and I almost smiled. I reached behind me and unclasped my bra.
Was I uncertain of myself? Yes. I've never been overly proud of the size of my breasts although it was something I had come to terms with. There was just that nagging voice in my head that told me he would find me lacking, that he would find them too small, but the look on his face when my bra joined my shirt shut that voice right up.
Patch gulped and I laughed breathlessly at the unguarded expression on his face.
His eyes flicked up to mine, his infamous smile curling the corners of his mouth and bringing with it a burst of heat and desire. "Are you laughing at me, Angel?"
"You look hungry," I said, answering his question.
He dipped down and brushed his lips against my ear, grazing my earlobe. "Oh, if you only knew how much."
I gasped when his lips slowly made the descent over my breasts and settled over my nipple. The heat of his tongue flicking out shot a current right through me and instinct arched my back off the bed. My hands ran over the powerful muscles of his back, the soft feel of his skin and he shuddered. I reached his jeans and moved my hands forward to unbutton them.
I was distracted when I felt Patch move his mouth south and felt my breath quicken again. The feel of his mouth on my belly made me lose all direction of thought. I had no idea what my hands where doing on the fly in his jeans, much less what my own name was.
I felt his fingers unbuttoning my jeans and sliding the zipper down. His fingers slipped beneath my jeans, leaving my panties on for some reason. I looked down and met his eyes, my chest rising and sinking fast. He looked up to meet my eyes as he slid my jeans down around my ankles.
"I can't... take it all off," he whispered, throwing my pants over his shoulder and rose up to press a kiss to my lips. "I don't want to rush this," he said, his eyes running over my face. "I wanna drag it out, and I won't be able to if I have you completely naked beneath me," he murmured, kissing me again.
His fingers were excruciatingly slow on my body, but he left nothing untouched. When he sank down again, he didn't stop at my belly but pressed a kiss onto the point that drove its heat all over my body. My eyes sprang open, and I pressed my head into the bed to keep myself from thrashing and maintaining control. Patch's lips pressed even harder and I moaned out loud, the feel of his mouth on me so intimate, despite the fabric preventing skin-to-skin contact. I wanted that piece of fabric off.

My hips bucked and he rose up, giving me that smile that turned everything inside me to mush. "So eager," he murmured and I laughed breathlessly. Who wouldn't be? Patch Cipriano had brought me to his bed, with the intension of getting my clothes off and bringing us closer than I've ever been to another. Not only physically, but what this intimate act did to me mentally was stronger than anything else. I was at my most vulnerable; spread out beneath him, completely naked, completely at his mercy. And I found that even like this, I trusted him with my body, mind and soul more than I could ever trust anyone. More than I trusted myself.

I was shaking, shivering with the pleasure his lips and fingers brought; the mere feel of his bare skin on mine sent blood rushing through my veins. It clogged my lungs, set every inch of me on fire.
Keeping his eyes on mine, his hooked fingers over my panties and I pushed my hips off the bed so that he could slide them all the way down and throw them over the bed. His sat back, studying me and although my initial reaction was to comply to the demand of my insecurities, his gaze emboldened me, made me feel like a goddess.
Patch gripped my leg, rising it over his shoulder and turned his face to plant a soft kiss to my ankle. I moaned as he kept moving further up, kissing his way all the way up to the inside of my thigh.
By then, I was completely at his mercy, incapable of doing anything than voicing out my affirmations as he continued his assault.
At some point I was expecting him to stop kissing me, to return kissing my lips but he didn't stop and just as I realized what he was about to do, it was too late. My back arched off the bed as I felt the first flick of his tongue over the cleft between my thighs.
"Patch," I gasped.
My aching fingers released the sheets and instinct drove me to bury them in Patch's hair instead. It urged him on, the desire in my voice apparent and my fingers in his hair insistent.
He sucked and teased, drawing back so that I could feel the heat of his breath against me and then settling over me again. I moaned, writhing beneath him.
When he finally rose up to meet my lips, he slid a jean clad leg between my legs, rubbing the rough material against me and that was it. Everything inside me tightened and I lost control.
When I finally opened my eyes, his eyes were regarding me with desire barely contained and my face quickly flushed. His eyes were so black in the darkness and he smiled at me.
"You're blushing," he murmured.

"It's embarrassing," I whispered.
"It's an orgasm," he said, which only made me blush further. "Of which I plan on giving you plenty."

I kissed him, so that I could keep him from looking at me so intensely. "Take off your jeans," I whispered.
He smiled against my lips, his breaths coming out in quick bursts. "Want to do the honors?"
He rose up on his knees and I followed, my eyes on his as I pulled down the zipper and slipped my fingers beneath the elastic band of his boxers. I felt a thrill, feeling the bare skin of his hips – knowing that this was uncharted territory for me.
He closed his eyes, and the knowledge that he was relishing my touch was heady. "Can you feel me?"
He regarded me with eyes burning with desire. "Yes," he breathed.

"How does it feel?" I asked him.
He presses his forehead to mine. "Like I've finally been let into the gates of heaven. Although I couldn't imagine the literal meaning bringing me this much pleasure." He kissed me, and groaned. "You feel so good underneath me, Nora." He kissed the corner of my mouth, continuing down over my jaw until his lips were at my ear. "And you taste... amazing." By the wicked gleam in his eyes as he pulled back, he wasn't talking about my skin. I blushed furiously as the truth of what he'd done, managed to penetrate the thick fog of lust that seemed to be taking residence in my head.

"Don't be embarrassed. I don't want you to be ashamed when you're with me like this," he murmured, kissing me.

I shook my head. "It's just that, you tell me things that make me feel kind of embarrassed."
He chuckled darkly. "Get used to it," he said, his voice low.

I looked up at him, feeling flushed and wanted to make him look as flustered as me. I scratched my nailed over his hips reminding him that his pants were a tug away from dropping.
He inhaled deeply and I smiled.
"Everything?" I asked, raising my eyebrow questioningly.
He nodded, dropping his chin, his eyes still on mine.
I slipped my thumbs over his jeans, keeping my palms pressed against his bare hips and slid his jeans down, over his legs and down to his knees.
Patch grunted and leaned his forehead against mine. I couldn't resist it. I had to. I glanced down, and found him swollen and erect and my breath left me in a rush. He was... Yeah.
"Jesus," I breathed.
"Let's not bring him into this," Patch said.
I chuckled. "From a logical point of view, I think it's reasonable to doubt how there can be any... merging here," I said, faking a bravado my breathlessness probably ruined me.

Patch laughed out loud and the sound warmed me.
One of his hands that where on my hips, slid down and around my thigh. I gasped when his fingers stroked the cleft between my legs. "I wouldn't dare encourage any... merging," he chuckled darkly, "If I didn't think you were stimulated enough."
"Patch," I gasped. "If I was to be more stimulated, we'd have to worry about me going into a cardiac arrest."
Patch groaned and his fingers grew more insistent. "So wet, Angel."
I moaned and even when it was so tempting to lean back and enjoy his fingers doing wonderful things to me, I told myself to be brave and reached out to wrap my fingers around him.
His fingers stilled and he inhaled sharply. "Christ."
I chuckled. "I thought we weren't going to bring him into this."
I gripped him tighter and Patch closed his eyes, shuddering. "You're killing me," he whispered.
I looked down in fascination; he felt like steel encased in silk. It was such an arousing thing, to see the way my touch affected him, how he got harder and harder under my fingers. His hips began to move forward, and then back again, in slow movements
I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his neck, continuing down over the curve of his shoulder. I pressed my cheek against the curve of his neck and whispered to him how much I loved him, how much I wanted this, how much I wanted him, knowing he could feel my breaths against his skin.
I pulled back when I felt another shudder wrack through him and looked into his eyes. "Are you sure you're up for this? It's not too much too soon?"
Patch kissed me hard. "I've never been more sure of anything my entire life. I want you."
I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his ear. "So take me," I whispered.
With a grunt, Patch pushed me down onto the bed. "Spread your legs," he murmured against my lips and after a second's hesitation I complied. He kissed me, running a tongue over my lip and parted my lips. He fit perfectly between my legs, and I wrapped my legs around him, losing myself in his kiss.
After those terrible days of thinking I would never see him ever again, it wasn't hard to lose myself in the moment, to relish in the feel of his bare skin against mine, of the flat panes of his chest pressing against the swell of my breasts and when his fingers traveled down to do things to me that left me gasping, happiness swelled in my chest so overwhelming it spilled over my eyes and down the sides of my face.
Patch froze and pulled back. "Nora? Why are you crying? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?"
I shook my head. "No," I whispered and brought him back to my lips. "You're here," I murmured. "I keep realizing it, and it... I'm happy. So happy I feel like I could burst."

Patch rained kisses all over my face. "I'm not leaving anytime soon, Angel. I'm whipped – you have me absolutely whipped. And now, being with you like this..." he kissed my lips, rotating his hips against mine until I gasped from the pleasure. "Yeah. Not leaving anytime soon," he said, smiling down at me.
I smiled at him and he pressed a kiss to my lips. We were completely naked, now. Both of us. The mere thought was exhilarating, the actual feel of how our his skin felt against mine mind-blowing. I was on fire, heat infusing every part of me, radiating from the center of my body and it only grew stronger when Patch's hand dipped south to run a finger over the wet folds.
When he pushed a finger inside of me, the orgasm shocked me to the very core. As I came back to planet Earth, Patch was grinning down at me.
I laughed. "This must be doing wonder for your penis-driven ego," I murmured.
Patch grinned even wider, chuckling. "I like your choice of words. But yes, this is doing wonders for my ego," he dipped down to kiss me. "Especially since I know how hard you are to please," he murmured against my lips.
Suddenly he reached for the cupboard beside the bed. I heard a drawer open and a second later he was pulling back, standing on his knees.
He ripped the foil package with his teeth and realization dawned. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about protection; I'd been so caught up in this, in him, that I'd forgotten about the possible consequences of doing this unprotected.
He pulled the condom out and I watched as he rolled it down his erection. It was incredibly erotic, and so distinctly male, it had me squirming.
Patch, who'd dropped his chin to see to that he pulled on the condom right, flicked his eyes up to me, the corner of his lips twisting upward into a smirk. "Enjoying the show?"
"Very," I murmured, breathlessly.
His eyes widened and then he was between my thighs, rocking his pelvis against the cleft between my legs, and I was breathless, breathless with heady lust that spread a cloud over my mind, obscuring everything but him.

"Whenever you're ready, Angel," Patch whispered against my ear, his voice rough.
"Yes," I said, almost immediately.
He rose up on his arms; hands on either side of my head and positioned himself against my entrance. He was looking into my eyes and although something was telling me to close my eyes, to only relish the feel of him sliding into me, I kept my eyes on his, refusing to break eye-contact and somehow that made this was so much more intimate.
Patch sank down and pressed a kiss against my lips. "Tell me when you want to stop."
Then he pushed, hissing; he was so slow and my body fought to encompass his width, his length. I whispered his name and his response was to kiss me until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.
He came to a sudden stop. "This is going to hurt, Angel." He brushed my hair away from my neck and pressed a kiss against my heated skin. "Bear with me."
I nodded, willing to go through heaven and hell to feel him all the way in me.
He thrust once and pain sliced through me, shocking me with its intensity and causing me to gasp. He continued to inch closer into me until there was no more of him.
Patch kissed me and put his mouth to my ear, murmuring apologies. He rained kisses all over my face until his lips settled on my mouth and pressed his face against my neck. I wanted to writhe beneath him so that he could know how my heart clenched at this show of utter care and gentleness but I was afraid the slightest move might send a spike of pain through me again. I settled with running my fingers into his hair, stroking his back, his shoulders, hoping that he understood what I was trying to say. I couldn't use words, not now. My ability to speak was completely gone, because I was so lost in this new sensation of him being inside me, so drunk with the knowledge that he was as close to me as anybody physically could get.
When he started to speak, I gasped because his words sent a fresh wave of arousal through me.
"So warm, Angel. So tight." He groaned and his words made me want to move against him instead of waiting for the pain to subside. "You're so wet..." he continued, his words sending shivers through me. His hand was on my breast, fingers brushing over my nipple and I was a goner. I wanted more.

I began moving against him.
Patch growled and pulled back; he didn't need more urging.
He pulled back slowly and pushed into me again. The pain was nothing but a memory by now; the sting was still there but it was easily ignored. When I started to move against him more eagerly, he followed suit, increasing his pace until I was screaming his name, telling him how good it was, how good he felt.
When that familiar golden edge came into view, I urged him to go faster, harder which surprised me. How could I be ready for him to push into me harder when just minutes ago I could barely withstand the pain that had sliced through me when he'd penetrated me?
Patch complied however, and the pleasure was two-folded; not only was I immensely enjoying how rough it had gotten but the pleasure on his face drove me to disregard any pain, any discomfort.
My muscles locked up and Patch groaned. I screamed as I came a third time, all these sensations assaulting my sensitive body. This time, it felt like my nerves had been scrubbed raw and my orgasm was absolutely earth-shattering. It took longer to settle down from it this time.

Patch buried his face in my neck and bucked against me. He shock a bit, as though the orgasm had drained everything from him, and sighed.
"God, Patch. That was..." I found no words.
"I know," he murmured, pressing a kiss against my neck. He pulled back, looking down at me. "Does it hurt?"
I raised my hand, showing off less than an inch between my forefinger and my thumb. "Just a little bit." I stroked his cheek, smiling. "But I would do it all over again."
Patch smiled that pirate smile and lowered his eyelashes, his eyes hooded. "Count on it, Angel."

We slipped under the covers of his bed and he pulled me against his chest, pressing a kiss to my neck. "So..." he murmured. "You're a screamer."
My face was on instant fire and I was glad my back was turned to him. "I didn't mean to s–"
"No," he pressed another kiss to my neck before he continued, chuckling. "I like it," he whispered in my ear.
I heard the smile in his voice and buried my face in the pillow as my blush increased. "God, Patch."
He laughed and tightened his arms around me. "I know you're tired. Go to sleep." He dipped to murmur in my ear. "Don't think I'll go easy on you tomorrow though."
I shuddered, smiling. "I was hoping you'd say that."