Chapter 29
FLYNN
I am having the best fucking day.
She loves me. Last night, in the darkened room she’d whispered the words, then turned in my arms to press her sincerity against my lips.
The woman I love? She loves me, too.
I woke stupidly early feeling about as happy as a dog with two dicks. Justthathappy. Flat on my back, Chastity lay splayed across my chest, her thigh over mine and her foot pushed between my legs. I wasn’t exactly comfortable, physically at least, though it improved once I’d pushed her mad hair out of my face. I think part of the problem is my morning stubble attracts those golden curls like Velcro.
‘I must look a sight,’ she’d mumbled, stifling a yawn.
‘You look like a ninety-year old penis, babe.’
It might not have been the most sensible response, as far as responses go, but at least it had gotten her attention. She’d pushed up onto her palm, almost crushing my diaphragm in the process.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
I set off laughing and it took me more than a few minutes to compose myself.
‘You’re not much of a morning person, are you, babe?’ I ran my hand down her bare back trying to keep my eyes on hers. A hard task, I can tell you, with those cherry ripe nipples in my face.
‘If you don’t stop dicking around and answer my question,’ she’d said, her warm chocolate eyes shooting me daggers. ‘You won’t be a morning person either.’ As quick as a flash, her hand shot out to grab my dick. ‘I’ll make it sothiswon’t work and wear your balls as earrings.’
‘Though she be but little, she is... feisty!’ I’d bucked up into her hand, the shock of the movement giving me the momentum to roll her onto her back. I’d pinned her hands either side of her head.
‘It’sfierce,’ she corrected with a sexy little growl. I planked over her body, dipping down to brush my lips against hers.And my dick.
‘Same thing, duchess.Yeah, that’s it.Wriggle your hot self a little more while I explain, birthday girl.’
‘Oh, so you do remember,’ she said, squirming harder. ‘And yet you’re still being a horrible arse!’
‘Just saying it as it is. You’re all wrinkly. In a good way.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘From the birthday party from hell to the birthdaywhere my boyfriend tells me I’m looking old. Well, you know what? Your dick is wrinkly.’ She’d stuck out her tongue and I’d laughed again.
‘Babe, it’s not very wrinkly at the minute.’ It was rock fucking hard. ‘Let me start again,’ I said smiling down at her. ‘Happy Birthday, oh gorgeous one. You don’t look a day over twenty-five. You’ve just got pillow creases on your face that I’m finding oddly erotic.’ Or maybe it was the fact that waking up to her this morning was different. Real. Maybe it was more that I’ve been imagining waking up with her every day for the rest of my life, looking forward to that point in the not too distant future where we’d be lying under the covers, squabbling over who was going to get out of bed first to tend to our wailing child.
Her gaze narrowed then she burst out laughing herself, her next breath little more than a sigh as I’d shut her up with a kiss. She’d arched her nakedness against mine and I’d spent the next hour in a blissful kind of exploration, devouring her like the delicacy she is. Finding all those places that made her sighs curl through the air and breath stutter in bursts from her mouth. Then we’d fucked, skin to skin, and it was glorious.
After a soapy and very slippery shower, with a tone much sillier than last night, I’d made coffee, insisting she open my birthday gift. The rest of her gifts could wait but I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to see her reactions. I’m not sure she appreciated the coupons for sex. Or the candy G-string. But she seemed to like the mug I bought her to use at her studio.She laughed, anyway.It had originally read “I love cock” but I’d added the word “Flynn’s” with a little arrow afterlove. You know, just in case anyone around her needed confirmation of that.
There was also the dirty weekend away I’d booked for us in Brighton next week, though I feel a bit of a tit for passing that off as a birthday present ’cause it’s as much a gift for me as it is for Chastity.
Good times ahead.
‘Who does the car belong to?’ Chastity asks.
The morning is grey, the sky full of the kind of clouds you know promise a drenching. I click the fob and open the passenger door for her, ignoring the wanker, I mean,caterer, Tate, watching from the other side of the road.Hands off, mate.
‘The car? It’s mine, babe.’A Jaguar XJ.‘I had the F-Type before this one. When Rafferty, my brother, visited London last year, he refused to get in it. That was a pretty good incentive to keep it, but I got tired of only having two seats.’ I kiss her, just one brush of my lips against hers. Maybe it’s an arsehole move, like a dog pissing on his favourite tree, but I reckon that’s okay as I really want to kiss her, too.
She slides in to the car, knees together like the lady she is, still looking a little confused as I close the door behind her. Not confused about the kiss—thatmade her smile. It’s probably the fact that I own both a high-end car and bike.European manufactured and expensive.But there’s time enough to explain these things. It’s not like I’m a total rev head or a wastrel. I just like nice things, including quality vehicles. But at the end of the day, they’re just a means of getting from A to B, and with London traffic, you usually stay between those two points for far too long. So the way I look at it, I may as well be hanging around in style and comfort.
‘Go on, belt up.’
‘I thought you had a motorbike.’
