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 fingers as he grasps 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. . .’
‘I need. . .’
So goes my litany of pleasure as my climax, white hot and intense, explodes between my legs.
And the last thing my sentient mind processes?
‘That’s it. Ride my fuckin’ face.’
Flat against the polished surface of my desk, I open my mouth to speak when the feel of him at my entrance steals my breath. Steals my breath, then forces it out from my chest as he thrusts inside. I’m so wet my body offers no resistance, and in that one push, we’re how he wanted us to be.Skin to skin.
‘Fuck!’ As my body pulses around him, Flynn dips his knees, and if I’m not mistaken, grits his teeth against the pleasure. ‘Ah, what this?’
The very particular tone of his voice brings my head up from the desk. I groan, a sign of desire and distress, as Flynn’s studio sequence flickers to life on my computer screen.
‘You beautiful, dirty girl. Have you been watching me fuck my hand this week?’
‘Just once or twenty times,’ I whisper, pushing back against him as onscreen Flynn undulates, his hard cock in his hand, and I shiver from pleasure as the now Flynn flexes his thighs against mine from behind.
‘Oh,God,’ I whisper, or maybe groan—quietly—as he moves back, then into me again oh-so slowly. He’s so large on screen, holding himself in two hands, and so large inside me.So impossibly hard. How can I be quiet? How can I take this without any noise?
‘You’ll take it,’ he grunts. ‘Take it all. You like watching me wank.’ The roughness of his expression and the grunt in his tone makes my inside pulse. ‘Tell me,’ he adds urgently—Tell. Me—timed with his thrusts.
