‘One you weren’t blessed with.’
‘You can’t have everything.’ Why did that sound like a purr?
‘Wrong.’ His tongue licks away the sting of his teeth as he begins delivering soft open-mouthed kisses to the space behind my ear. ‘You’ve got the lot, and I’m tasting it all tonight.’
‘Oh, God, is there anything as unravelling as kisses there?’
‘Was that a rhetorical question?’ he murmurs. I huff a short laugh, not realising my breathless words were fully audible. ‘Because if not, I’d have to disagree. There’s nothing quite like a good hard fuck.’
I’d have to agree.. .
In the mirror, Flynn’s expression is the embodiment of wickedness as he lifts his hands to the buttons on my shirt, managing to loosen each tiny hinderance without touching me once. Never before would I have imagined the art of undressing would be so erotic, but it leaves my body trembling as the much-washed cotton brushes my skin.
As he flips the final one from the placket, his large hands push the sides wider, revealing the ruffled trim of my blue bra.
‘Fucking heavenly.’ How can a guttural curse sound so reverent? If I had the answer, it’s lost as he trails the back of his fingers against the soft swell of my breast, before slipping his hand inside. I gasp at the contact, and as he brushes my nipple, my body arches on instinct, chasing his touch. ‘You like that.’ The coarse pads of his fingers rub my nipples. ‘So rosy and delicious.’
I whimper as his hand slips away, my body sagging against his, but as his fingers find the button of my jeans and work it loose, my attention is dialled once more to ten.
No longer fastened to my waist, my baggy jeans hit the stairs as every fibre of my being hums for his touch. I watch as he flattens his hand on my belly, dragging it down my skin, my breath hitching as his long fingers disappear under the elastic of my mismatched pink cotton underwear.
‘What are we doing?’ I rasp, rolling my head back, giving him access to more of my neck. My nipples ache as between my legs pounds, and while there’s something erotic about being covered yet exposed, I long for him to touch me everywhere. I long for him to fuck me now.
‘I would’ve thought that was obvious,’ his deep voice rumbles. If I had anything else to ask, the words turn to dust as his finger finds the wet ribbon of flesh between my legs.
‘Fuck,’ he grunts, pressing his erection so solidly against me, it wedges the cotton of my knickers between my butt cheeks, his large body curving around mine like an embrace.
‘My bedroom’s just... there, oh, God,just there.’ My hips jerk as the pad of his index finger finds my clit, presses it, toys with it, then slips away, leaving me a pulsing, twitching mess. But I don’t have time to object or complain as his full hand cups me. Rocking my body against his, he sandwiches me between his cock and hand.
‘That’s it, duchess, ride my hand. Find your relief.’
‘Doesn’t work that way,’ I whimper as he rotates his palm. ‘Let me step out of my jeans, at least.’
‘I kind of like you trapped like this.’
Instantly, my mind goes to a recent shoot at a local hotel. Sophia was strung willingly between the base posts of a four-poster bed, tortured and teased in the best kind of way until her orgasm, and subsequently her legs, gave out. What would it feel like to be tethered by Flynn? Brought to the brink again and again until both my body and mind are limp?
‘You’re so fuckin’ hot,’ he rasps. Grasping my chin with his free hand, he turns my mouth to his. It’s a fierce kiss, one that swiftly becomes a battle of teeth and probing tongues. He tastes of toothpaste and temptation as I grind myself against his hand, and he grinds into me from behind.
With one last bite of my lip, he twists my face back to the mirror again, my chin still in his hand.
A moment later, I cry out as his fingers thrust expertly between my legs—I spread out my arms, one hand grabbing the bannister, the other flattened against the wall, whimpering as he gathers wetness from my seam, dragging those long fingers back to my clit.
‘Please, Flynn.’ I find myself whimpering as I writhe. ‘Please touch me harder. Please make me come.’
His answer is a low groan and whispered husky, ‘Fuck.’
I try once more to widen my stance, my hips moving and chasing his fingers as I chant my litany of need—please, please, please!—as an intensity, white hot and fluid, begins to build in my extremities. The rhythm of his fingertips is sublime, and as he slips his fingers into the cup of my bra again, palming my breast, I cry out.
‘Oh my. Oh, f-fuck!’My knees buckle from an overload of sensations, his fingers sliding fast and wet across my clit, my nipple hard and aching between his fingertips. His sucking bite at my neck, and the look of us in the mirror—my desperation and his absolute determination to draw me to the edge at his will.
‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ he rasps. ‘So fucking slick.’ But I can’t... can’t concentrate on anything but the feeling between my legs, my eyes glued to our reflection, flicking back and forth between his expression and where his hand disappears under the soft pink cotton of my knickers. Between his sucking and licking and dirty encouragement, I can barely make sense of it all. All I know is I need this connection, this orgasm, like others need air.
From fast finger work to barely there, Flynn teases me with a bare swipe. I’m up on my toes immediately, chasing his touch, rewarded as he thrusts two fingers into my depths. Two fingers, then three, his thumb pressing my clit.
‘That’s it, beautiful. Come for me. Come all over my fucking hand.’
I buck. Cry out. Fall. Come apart. And when cognisance returns, I’m held up only by his arms.
