Chapter Seven
Bristowe really wantedto talk about the possibility of Flynn becoming a social worker. Truly, she did. It seemed as though it could be a fulfilling career path for him, possibly something to look forward to every day. He'd be good at it; dare she say it was his calling? Less physically taxing, but more emotionally draining. And she would point all of this out to him.
Just as soon as her brain kicked back into gear.
But for the moment, with his mouth pressed to her pulse and his hand down her pants, there was nothing but a pleasant susurrus filling her head. They’d barely managed to make it inside her apartment before he'd shoved her against the door and went spelunking with his clever, clever fingers. She gasped when Flynn bit her neck.
“Do ya like that, fuck doll?”
Since her brain was mush, all she could do was moan in response. Her hands weren't immobile, though, so she repaid him by searching for the zipper on his jeans. When he gasped, it was because she’d rubbed the hardened outline of his cock.
“Bedroom?” he asked.
“Why bother?”
Bristowe dropped her purse on the hall table, rummaging one handed until she found the ridged edge of a condom wrapper. Pulling it free from the confines of lipstick tubes, tissues, and whatnot, she held it in front of his face.
“My woman,” he growled at her.
All she could do to that was laugh. Working faster than she thought a man had a right, Flynn unfastened her pants and yanked them down to her ankles. Her badge clunked to the floor, the bottom button on her blouse rending with his eagerness. Just when she thought he’d put his hands back where they’d been, he kneeled instead. With a choked sound escaping her throat, she tunneled her fingers in his hair and tugged his mouth closer to its goal.
Yes, as she’d discovered once, Flynn knew what he was about. Tongue and even teeth descended on her tender flesh, working her closer and higher within seconds. Her legs weakened, but she braced one hand on the doorknob and left the other in his hair. She did have to bend one knee to grant him better access, but only because he appeared determined to cave dive.
“Oh!” Unaccustomed to being eaten alive, Bristowe trembled into the feeling.
Adding fingers to the cause, Flynn bent to his task like a man dying for a taste of her juices. Her shoulders felt as if they would become one with the wooden door as her hips surged against his face, rocking in time with his movements.
“Fuck!” And there it was. The coalescence of light, all the crashing waves coming together at once. If ever she’d felt the true meaning of dying before coming back to life, it was with Flynn.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you come.” Rising in front of her, Flynn kissed her hard, giving her a taste of herself. Rather than pull away, Bristowe dug in, gripping his head and swirling her tongue around his mouth.
Panting, she pulled back. “I’m the only one semi-naked.”
“Point taken.”
He shed his pants, and she nearly ripped what was left of her shirt in her haste. His t-shirt was cool under her fingertips as she gathered it in a bunch and flipped it over his head. Only a few inches shorter than him, she didn't have to strain to remove it. Flynn went to work on the condom, tearing open the wrapper and slipping it on while she ran her nails over his chest and back. Hissing when she dug in, he persevered long enough to grab her hips and line them up.
“Look at me, doll.”
Meeting his gaze, she stared into his eyes as he entered her, holding her an inch or two off the ground. It was a struggle to keep her eyes from rolling back, to keep her heavy lids from falling closed and just going along for the ride. With his insistence that she keep looking at him, she found the level of connection tugging on her heart. Every thought, emotion, and lusty feeling crossed his expression as he plunged deeper and deeper. When he shifted his grip to hold her ass cheeks in his hands, her head nearly dropped off her shoulders. It was fucking tempting to let it thump to the door that braced them up, but she caught herself.
After all, it would be a shame to miss the way his face changed second to second. It was extraordinary to watch his pupils dilate, to see the tightening around his mouth and the reddening of his cheeks. Their bodies bumped together, causing a racket as the door hinges protested their movement within the frame. Idly, Bristowe wondered if she'd have to send a gift basket to old Mrs. Neville next door, then figured the deaf old biddy wouldn't know the difference.
Unless the pictures in her apartment started falling off the wall. That, she might notice.
“Dammit, doll, I’m not gonna last.”
Snapped back to the moment, Bristowe felt the way his fingers dug further into her flesh. His muscles strained, his breath puffing out onto her face. She was merely hanging on for dear life at that point, enjoying the cleaving between her thighs.
