Chapter Ten (Getting to Know You..) Mature Subject Matter
Finch respected the newfound connection between them, the silence, for once, lacking the awkward stiltedness he had grown so accustomed to over the past few weeks.
"You know." He made mention, motioning to the object hidden beneath the couch. "In time, that book will grow to be one of your most cherished possessions." He smiled tentatively over to the dark, sad eyes. "Because it's all you have left of someone you loved and deeply cared about."
The emotional upheaval had taken it's toll on the woman, however and though she found a measure of comfort in his words, she still felt drained, physically spent.
"I don't understand what's wrong with me." It troubled her greatly. "I don't usually…" she let it go, closing her eyes, simply too exhausted to contemplate any weighty subject at present.
Finch was simply in too much pain to remain in the position he had been, seeking a higher, more comfortable perch, sliding back into the edge of the couch but making certain Root still knew, he wasn't planning on ending the session any time soon, at least, before she indicated she was feeling better about matters.
He stayed close, more than willing to allow her difficulties run their course. He had been in many a similar situation and would have welcomed another human companion to ease the burden of guilt, or talk out the confusion and disorder he had felt.
Nathan's presence was sorely missed at such times.
Root leaned slightly, the absence of his warmth making the room feel inordinately cold. She shivered involuntarily, her arms hugging her petite frame protectively.
Finch was shocked when she lay her head across his knees, her arms folded along the thickness of his thighs, forming a cradle of sorts.
He fought the urge to arise, stunned by her actions.
The woman sighed wearily, a long, shaky shudder racking her body. "She never got to Oregon." The small chuckle somehow reassured, tempering the man's instinctive behavior.
She only needed comforting. There was no sinister design or plan on this particular night. And while his guard was always in place where Samantha Groves was concerned, at present, he would have admitted to a definite lapse in the state of wariness she could always invoke.
He forced his body to relax by degrees. "..I'm sorry?" he hadn't understood the cryptic remark.
"It's just a stupid game she used to play." Root's smile was a gentle one. "I told her it was lame."
"Well, for you.." he assumed she made mention of some sort of video game. "It would have been, wouldn't it."
Root remained quiet, knowing she should arise..return to her room despite what SHE had instructed.
She very likely had taxed the limit of whatever graciousness the man would permit but she just simply could not bear to sever the tie as yet.
To be so close to him. To experience the kindness he was capable of exhibiting. To have his full attention directed at her exclusively..it was the stuff of which Samantha Grove's dreams were made.
"I wish we would have met..sooner." she closed her eyes to the pathos of that statement. "I wonder how I would have turned out had I your influence..guidance, instead of.." she halted abruptly, her head bobbing up, her entire manner stiff and unyielding.
She cleared her throat gently, flushed and agitated. To make such a slip before a man of his caliber was unforgivable. And yet, that is exactly what she had done.
"I have often thought the same." He wasn't going to pursue something so obviously troubling to her. "I worked alone but to have someone of your..intellect and talent alongside?" he smiled wistfully. "Just think..we could have created the first Transformer."
She chuckled, the nervous tension broken. "Optimus Prime? A noble goal." She quipped. "Nor have I ever understood the significance of the Monolith in 2001, Space Odyssey, perhaps you could have explained it to me."
"You are such a liar." His throaty chuckled enthralled her. "Read the novel as opposed to seeing the film." It was sagely advised.
"I knew you would say that." She nodded minutely, her fingers tracing the intricate pattern on the plush pile carpet. She put her hair behind her ear. "..You could be Optimus Prime." She cast him a mischievous glance. "A brave, powerful, compassionate leader who uses his talents to improve the Universe around him."
"That does rather sound like me." He managed straight-faced, awarded by yet another chuckle from the woman. "Now that you mention it."
Harold scowled lightly. "He walked with a pronounced limp as well, if I recall."
She compressed her lips to hold back her smile. "I was looking at other parts of his anatomy. I didn't notice."
"Are you attempting to shock me, Miss Groves?"
"I have been attempting to do so." She drew in an even breath, the dark eyes observing him insouciantly. "All to no avail."
"I suspected as much." He nodded quietly. "The question arises.. 'why?"
"To get your attention, I suppose."
He evaluated the answer. "You have always managed to do that."
She refused to meet his eyes for very long intervals. "..In the wrong manner."
Harold compressed his mouth. "Not always." He confessed.
She lifted a hopeful stare.
The moment progressed, the man unable or unwilling, perhaps, to look from the lovely features or the captivating eyes. He was more than aware of the slight pressure of her palm which had maintained contact with his upper thigh throughout the entire exchange.
Where, before, he looked at it as an inconsequential familiarity, his flesh beneath the warm appendage now tingled vibrantly, his traitorous body was becoming more and more aware of her proximity.
Her tanned legs were tucked under her body, but splayed out to the side, revealing the lovely curve of her toned calves.
He pulled his gaze from the disturbing sight, seeking a way out of the rapidly developing circumstance. That he had noted at all alarmed and vexed the man.
His infamous brain was coming up dismally short of any feasible ideas which might alleviate the current problem.
Finch neither understood nor approved of the fact, his body was reacting so chaotically to the woman's nearness.
Seconds before, they had been amiably engrossed in a most pleasant conversation.
He shifted ever so slightly, hoping the movement would dislodge the contact but her palm only spread wider, moving even higher on his ever tightening thigh muscles.
"Well.." he tried tact. "I suppose we should..retire. It's quite late."
Every fiber of Root's being rebelled against such a notion at this stage.
IT IS TIME
The young woman swallowed her misgivings, obeying her Master's voice automatically, lifting her form, moving ever so carefully into the widened arc of the man's legs, her body blocking any attempts to close the wondrous area.
The chocolate cream of Root's eyes searched Harold's started blueness religiously. "Don't…send me away."
Finch swallowed hard. "Miss Grov.."
"Don't." the woman moved forward, her face very close to the man's suddenly, her clean breath gently brushing across his cheek. "Send me away, Harold."
She raised her arms, slowly sliding them about his neckline, the hypnotic orbs holding his with their beguiling innocence. "Don't..do that." It was asked. "Not this time."
The man reached his hands gently but firmly catching her interlocked fingers behind his nape.
Root's slender fingers twisted and turned, interlocking with the more artistic ones of the man allowing his actions but mid-way, halted the trek, bringing his hands to her lips, gently caressing his knuckles, the warm, fullness eliciting a small, audible intake of breath from Harold Finch.
The man stared transfixed at her pastime as she planted slow, lingering kisses over every inch of flesh afforded her. The brown eyes robbing him of any vestige of protest he might think to make.
Harold's fingers tightened at one point and she felt slightly encouraged, the brown softness lifting for him alone, their depths totally readable and open.. vulnerable, totally open to compromise.
The man's sharp mind stagnated unproductively, too caught up in the totally unexpected phenomenon taking place to do more at present.
He knew he should put an abrupt halt to the outlandish absurdity playing out but..he didn't.
He was loathe to disturb such a pleasant interlude, truth known. It simply was not in him to rebuke or chastise this night.
She leaned closer still, and the man closed his eyes, willing the soft mouth forward.
The full warmness touched his lips with such reverence and for so brief a period that at first, he thought he must have imagined the touch.
Root pulled back instinctively seeking out the man's input, her heart thudding wildly, her nerves raw, on edge.
She found it impossible to read the rather vacant stare within the crystal eyes. She closed her own, acutely disappointed. "..I should..go." she whispered jerkily.
NO!
The realization almost destroyed the young woman but she had felt no response from Harold Finch…None.
"No." the man's tone was a mere whisper of it's former vitality. "..Not quite..yet." he seemed fascinated by the prospect envisioned.
It was, in fact, he who initiated the next confrontation, his hand reaching, his palm slowly spreading past the small indentation of her waist beneath the fluff of the robe, sliding confidently over the silk of her gown, to finally come to rest on the small of her back, his fingers ever so lightly massaging..trailing quick-silver paths on the flesh beneath the fabric.
Root melted to his expertise, his touch igniting her body and mind.
Harold tightened his arms, moving her body closer, his mouth parting the pout of the very pliable lips, the sweet nectar within intoxicating his heightened senses all the more.
The very tip of the honeyed tongue slipped experimentally past his, playing a shy game of cat and mouse for a brief second of kittenish exploration, a soft whimper of delight escaping Root's throat.
He encouraged such blatant familiarity on her part, his free arm embracing the slender body fully. He moved forward on the couch, his palm flattening, holding her abdomen to his, a coiled expectation arising inside his stomach and loins.
Root's mouth clung to his sensually, her breath shallow and feathery.
Finch increased the fervor of the kiss, the soft pants against the side of his cheek causing a sharp twinge inside the recesses of his intestinal tract and..lower, ripples of goose flesh traveling up and down his arms.
"Ohhhhh!" the woman had felt the early beginnings of his arousal, melding to his administrations, her fingers reaching between their meshed bodies to stroke and explore the ever enlarging length and breadth of his instrument, even through the thick fabric of his slacks, it felt amazing.
Harold gasped inarticulately, breaking their mouth's caress, unprepared for such boldness on her part.
"S-Stop now." His voice was weak and ineffectual, he realized.
The woman ignored his command, kneeling before him, her lips gently covering the outline of the imprint of the hardness she so lovingly scrutinized.
"N-No." he tried half-heartedly to prevent any further inspection but in the end, he allowed her any fancy she wished, his hand cupping the shining crown of her head lovingly.
In seconds, the deft fingers had withdrew the man's painful erection, the honeyed lips ever so gently trailing warm, wet kisses up and down the length of the rigid attachment she cradled so lovingly before finally enveloping the swollen head into the hot, heavenly orifice of her mouth.
Finch grappled with his conscious but more so, his ever growing desire and need, torn between the world of sensual pleasure she offered and his self-righteous obligation to uphold some sort of moral standard where the woman was concerned.
He could not think clearly, the erotic world she was creating just for him, coloring his usually impeccable judgment.
The man moaned, enraptured by the woman's antics, his flesh crying out for more of the delicious punishment she was inflicting.
All too soon, it ended, however.
He opened his eyes, the brown intentness locking with his.
Root caught his wayward lips, her arms tightly entwining about his neckline as she moved with cat-like agility, artfully straddling his now prone figure, the youthful thighs parting on either side of his as the small hands grasped his rod, her fingers trembling visibly.
He assisted as she positioned herself, and in truth, it was he who lifted into the hot, incredibly heated lava of her cavity, which welcomed him enthusiastically.
Finch gasped shakily, embedding himself deep into the luxurious depths of the suffocating cavern, more than content to be within the confiding nadirs, instantly beginning the ancient movements of love-making.
It seemed ages that Samantha Groves had waited for this man's downfall. That he had allowed her to somehow infiltrate his impenetrable defenses, thrilled and titillated beyond scope.
She could not believe he was actually allowing her to experience him in such an intimate venue.
She wasn't about to question her good fortune at this stage.
She had dreamed of this moment ever since she first encountered with such disturbing brilliance.
What would it be like?
The intimacy? He had fought her tooth and nail and still, now, even in the recesses of her overly active brain, she wasn't quite certain if this was happening…was it a horribly concocted dream sequence her overzealous mind had conjured up?
It wasn't as if she hadn't lived out the same scenario repeatedly..at night. When it was just her and her own private thoughts.
But this did not feel fabricated.
The man's hands took her breath away, their boldness, their inventiveness. His mouth had never tasted so good in her imaginings or so warmly delectable.
No one had ever touched her like Harold Finch was touching her.
This was so much better than she could ever have fantasized.
And he was so thick, filling her to capacity and beyond, each tiny movement causing her to contract and quiver expectantly.
Harold could feel the convulsive inklings of her vaginal area, his shaft tingling fervently in response, his palms having slipped beneath the cool material of the sexy sheath, feeling the bare flesh of the rounded firmness of her buttocks.
Warm scent cascaded from her breasts, filling his nostrils. He enjoyed her smell very much indeed.
The outside world faded into oblivion as they slowly but surely created a Universe of their own making. One where judgmental attitudes were nonexistent.
A sensual World of wondrous sights comprised of full, sloping mounds, rock-hard arousals..sounds of muffled moans and prurient sighs..sensations that ignited the senses and quicken the pulse.
It was a Realm of imagination and wonder.
A world Harold Finch did not regret creating. For this Creation was ethereal in nature, an Absolute that took him to the edge of reason and on one level..sanity.
He gladly relinquished his hold on reality for the interim.
He would face whatever recrimination which might arise on the morrow.
Tonight..was to enjoy and embrace.