Chapter Nine
Bristowe had no ideawhat to expect. Walking into Flynn’s home for the first time was one thing, but to meet one of his foster brothers at the same time was a little intimidating. The building was rife with the sound of crying children coming through paper-thin walls, television sets and radios turned up loud, and a few arguments that sounded half a shade away from domestic disputes. Trying her damndest to turn off her inner cop, Bristowe climbed the stairs without touching the handrail. The scent of curry wafted through on one floor, quickly followed by burned garlic as she ascended to Flynn’s eighth-floor apartment. While the experience was nothing new for a cop, it was disheartening that her boyfriend lived in a place so similar to the ones she frequented on a daily basis as part of her job.
Could she call him her boyfriend? It was apt, but how would he feel about the title?
With no time to reflect on that, Bristowe found his number on the third door on the left and knocked. Something crashed over in the apartment beside his, and she glanced warily toward the noise of the ensuing altercation. Plastering a smile on her face, she nearly bowled Flynn over in her eagerness to get inside.
“Hey, doll.” Wrapping his arms around her, he kicked the door closed and took her mouth in a hungry kiss.
There was something to be said about the way he kissed her. She had to give credit where it was due; whoever had encouraged the way he currently devoured her deserved a gold medal. His tongue swept through her mouth, which he followed up with nibbling on her lips. The acidic taste of tomatoes hit her taste buds, and she slid her hands into the back of his waistband.
“Hi to you too.” She felt his lips on her throat, and the way he swirled his tongue over her pulse. Wincing slightly at the bite he left behind, she ground her hips into his as her blood pressure rose with her heartbeat.
“Lock isn't here yet, but he will be in about thirty minutes.”
“Hm, what kind of trouble can we get into in that amount of time?” Without waiting for his response, she sank to her knees. “I seem to remember a discussion this morning about the way you taste.”
“God damn, doll.”
She didn't care that she’d just walked in. Nor did she care that company was expected any minute. It only made it more exciting to know they might be interrupted. Working fast, she unzipped his jeans and shimmied them down just past his hips. His cock was on board with her idea, that was for certain. It sprang free with enthusiasm, and she wasted no time sucking the head into her mouth. Flynn’s hands went to her hair and tugged, urging her to move faster. Swallowing him deep, Bristowe felt her gag reflex kick in and ignored it.
Pressing her face close to his pelvis, he panted, “Choosing my dick over oxygen, huh?”
Instead of responding, she let him slide just a bit further back until her eyes watered. He pulled out and pushed back in again, setting the speed. Wishing she could touch herself as she gagged around his cock, she settled instead for giving him pleasure in the time they had available to them.
“Oh, doll, so close. I wish I could paint your face with my cum.”
Bristowe moaned, feeling his cock swell and twitch. He’d begun to move faster, and she took him as deep as she could. When he exploded down her throat, she relaxed her body and swallowed, only choking a little. Using her tongue, she cleaned off his softening shaft and tucked him back inside his pants.
“Fuck, you’re such a dirty doll.”
Rising, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Almost as a test, she kissed him again to see what he’d do. His tongue went back into her mouth, and she dearly wished they had a few more minutes alone to finish what they'd started.
Pressing his forehead to hers, he said, “What the hell did I ever do to deserve you, huh?”
“From what you’ve told me, you’ve paid for the sins of others your entire life. Maybe you simply deserve good things now.”
“Baby.” He swallowed. “Bristowe, I—”
He cut himself off with a grunt, and she cupped his cheek. That morning, as they’d left her place, she’d felt his emotions. It was as if the words were right there under the surface, but he struggled to say them. “It’s okay. I know what you're trying to tell me.”
Taking a ragged breath, Flynn backed up and blew it out before speaking. “I can’t recall ever having said it before.”
She waited while he turned away and paced the three steps to the kitchen. Red sauce simmered on the stove, filling the small space with the enticing aroma of onions and garlic. It was interesting that he claimed he couldn't cook but had made sauce from scratch when he could’ve just grabbed a cheap jar from the store. She watched the back of his head as he shook it, gripping the edge of the countertop.
“I must have said it as a toddler or something. Surely, it came naturally when I was that young.”
