Chapter 12
CHASTITY
We come together in a rush of heat and need. His hands grip my hair as mine clutch the cotton of his T-shirt, something greedy and grasping driving us on. It’s a kiss full of longing and need—the kind of kiss that steals both breath and sense.
A bruising kiss, I think as he pulls back, watching me with those hungry blue eyes, his ragged breath matching mine.God, I want to be bruised by him, want to feel his touch on my body into next week.
‘The things I want to do to you,’ Flynn rasps as he presses his lips to my neck.
‘I’m not eating pizza from your dick.’ Despite being more turned on than I have been since I was last in his arms, it seems nervous ridiculousness is still capable of spewing from my mouth.
‘Ah, you’ve seen that movie, too,’ he replies, pulling back and pushing the curls from my face, a look of indulgent amusement curling in the corner of his mouth. ‘Shame I already ordered a pizza with a hole in the middle.’
‘You’re ridiculous,’ I murmur, realising the mess I’ve made of his T-shirt. Unfurling my hands, I smooth away the creases with my palms, then slip them higher up his ridiculously defined pecs. I’m surrounded almost daily by near perfect bodies, so why is his so hard to resist?
‘I’m ridiculously fucking hard.’ My eyes slip down between our bodies to where the strong, proud length of him is pressed against the fabric of his jeans. I swallow deeply, my teeth digging into my lip to prevent the words on my tongue.
Give it to me. Fuck me. Fuck my mouth.
‘You want it.’ His voice seems lower, harder, all levity gone. ‘It’s all for you, Chastity. I’m so fucking hard for you.’
Without speaking, I slide my hands higher, tipping onto my toes to push the leather from his shoulders. His jacket hits the wooden floor with a surprisingly solidthunk. ‘Looks like I’m staying,’ he says with a crooked grin.
‘It would appear so.’
‘I’m not fucking you in the kitchen this time,’ he says, his grin replaced by something else. ‘So you’d better get your arse up those stairs.’
Oh, my. Commanding looks good on Flynn Phillips.
I turn swiftly, excitement building in my chest like a kid on Christmas morning. I reach the first stair, and the absolute exhilaration of Flynn’s body so close behind me has me bolting to the top of the stairs. I can’t explain it. It must be my fight or flight reactions kicking in. I’m lightheaded with anticipation and feel as desperate as a doe on the escape. Eachclunkof his boots on the stairs behind me has my heart pounding in my chest until, at the second to last stair from the top, my excitement hits fever pitch when solid hands find my hips.
I raise my head, catching a glimpse of myself in the large mirror at the top of the stairs. My complexion is flushed and my hair a mess, and it’s no wonder I’m running—no wonder my body thinks it might be under attack—because as I look at the reflection of Flynn behind me, he looks like the devil himself.Dark. Wicked. Self-satisfied.
‘Not so fast, duchess.’ Strong arms loop my waist, his body enveloping mine as his hands reach for the fly of my jeans.
‘What are you doing?’ I whisper as he flicks the button open. My gaze falls to the sinew in the tanned arms curling around my waist, and I think I might actually moan. Or whimper. It’s a little hard to tell when the man you want so desperately is taking his own time spelling out his plans. I lift my head to the mirror again to try to gauge what he’s thinking by his expression—to see what plans he has in store for me. Standing one stair above him reduces the disparity in our heights, but I don’t feel any bigger or stronger. If anything, I still feel like prey. The willing kind.
‘Patience is the key to paradise.’ His deep voice rumbles against my cheek, his face pressed against mine.He really is breathtaking.
‘Those are some lofty goals there. You sure you’re going to be able to deliver?’
‘I didn’t hear any complaints last time.’ In the mirror, my expression twists. ‘It’s a proverb, duchess,’ he says softly, a lock of his dark hair falling across his forehead as he presses his lips to my cheek. His eyes gleam wickedly as he moves the collar of my shirt to test the soft skin of my neck with his teeth. ‘Read a fuckin’ book.’
‘Patience is also apparently a virtue—’
‘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.
