‘Flynn, all we do is argue and fight!’
‘What’s wrong with that? I love fighting with you. And I’ll fight for you.’
His words and the sincerity in his tone, coupled with the look of intensity on his face blows me away. But only for a minute. Right about now maybe a cold wave of reality should sweep through the room, but I’m glad when it doesn’t. What I get instead is the kind of belly licking warmth you feel when someone tells you they love you.
‘You’re saying,’ I begin, the words slightly choked. ‘You’d give me a child, even if I don’t want to be with you?’
‘I’m not that selfless, babe. I want a promise from you. A promise that you’ll at least try to love me back. It’s been the best thing ever, falling in love with you. Fathering our child wouldn’t be a consolation prize.’
Who would’ve thought it? Flynn Phillips has the soul of a poet.
‘Don’t play with me.’
Like a slow burning fire, Flynn’s smile is slow to grow, but he doesn’t answer. And I’m not sure who reaches for the other first; all I know is we come together in that instant. I’ve never felt this kind of connection, this kind of need as I push him into the room, our mouths fused together and our fingers grasping. My hands shake with desperation as I fumble with his belt.
‘I can’t believe we’re doing this. I can’t believe we’re doing this now.’
‘You’ve got your hand around my cock,’ Flynn rasps. ‘Feels pretty fuckin’ real to me. But maybe you need convincing.’
In an instant, he spins me around, and I catch myself on my hands on the desk against the adjacent wall.
I want to touch him. Feel his skin. Fill my mouth with the solid feel of him. I want to—
Breath halts in my chest as his hands drag the lace of my dress up my thighs and over my arse.
‘You have a body that sonnets should be written about.’ His words are a rasping kind of appreciation as he pushes down on my lower back, coaxing me to stick my bottom out. ‘You are so gorgeous tonight. It just makes me wild with the need to mess you up.’
‘How will you do that?’ Wrong. So wrong. And yet, I can’t help but provide more encouragement. His answer sends pulsing waves through my core.
‘I’m gonna stick my cock in you.’ His words rasp my ear as he slips my thong to the side. ‘Make you come. Leave my come in you.’
‘Flynn,’ I whisper urgently. ‘We can’t be long. People will notice we’re miss—’
My words halt as I note his wicked smile, feeling the string to my thong snap in his hands. I have no words, but I have plenty of noises as he drops to his feet and slips his tongue between my legs.
One lick and my legs turn to jelly. Two and I’m crying out.
‘Shush, duchess,’ he rasps, his tone thick with want. ‘You don’t want people knocking the door down thinking I’m fucking you up.’
‘D-door doesn’t have a lock,’ I pant, my fingertips scrabbling against the desk as though to hold me up.
‘All the more reason to keep your joy to yourself.’
Flynn’s broad tongue swipes the length of me before he buries himself between my splayed legs. His tongue is magic and his dirty whispers divine as he tells how he can’t wait to fill me. To own me. That he can feel my cum dripping across his tongue.
It’s hard to remember those months I couldn’t climax, not with this master between my legs, licking and tasting, whispering how my pussy makes him drunk. Feeling him spread me wider with his large hands as he rasps that he has his cock in his hand.
He makes me frantic—makes me rock back against him shamelessly. Against his mouth and his tongue. Against the roughness of his stubble as it abrades and burns.
‘Oh, God!’ I dip my head to the warm surface of the desk as I lose my mind to his commands.
‘That’s it, duchess. Let me feel that pussy pulse.’
I’m desperate. To touch him—desperate for him to fill me. I can’t think—my mind is empty for everything except the intense pressure building between my legs.
‘Flynn! I can’t. . .’
‘I want. . .’
