Chapter 20
“Oh God, baby, don’t stop.” Marcus’s hand tangled in her hair as the hot, wet heaven of her mouth closed over his cock.
Flynn’s head bobbed as she took all of him down her throat. He was going to go off as quick as she had last night, and he didn’t even care.
She sucked as she drew back, and her hand gripped his shaft.
He felt the gag reflex of her throat when she took him deep again—and that was when he realized this wasn’t a dream.
His eyelids flipped open, and he clocked sunlight spilling over her brown hair as her glassy green eyes stared up at his face.
One look at her with his cock between her lips, and he was a goner.
“Fuck, Flynn. I’m gonna—” he warned her, and she kept going.
He was done. Lightning shot through him, and he came as she kept her sweet lips wrapped around him. When he could finally see straight again, she moved back and smiled. She slid off the bed, and he caught a flash of her bare ass as she slipped out of the bedroom.
As much as he wanted to pass out like she had, he followed her. He heard the sink as he hit the doorway and saw her reaching for the towel after she splashed her face.
“You okay?” he said as he handed it to her.
She looked up, apparently surprised to find him next to her. She took it and dried her face.
“All good. I was going to bring this to you to … you know … clean up.”
Both their gazes dropped to his heavy shaft hanging between his legs.
“Shower,” he said with a jerk of his head toward the curtain behind them.
“Oh yeah. Of course.”
“You coming?” he asked as he reached behind the white curtain into the avocado tub with matching tiles.
She let out a breath. “I shouldn’t.”
He turned back to face her and her bright red cheeks. “Why?”
“Because …”
He realized she was worried he was going to break his rule by fucking her in the shower. “As tempting as you will be when slippery and wet, I just came like a freight train, and the first time we have sex, it’s not going to be in the shower.”
She smiled, and he watched the blush spread across her chest. “Okay.”
He reached for the hem of her shirt and paused.
“By all means, do the honors,” Flynn said with a grin.
He needed no further invitation. He pulled the T-shirt over her head. Steam was already beginning to fill the bathroom as he took in every inch of her curvy form. Instantly, his dick started getting hard again.
“You’re right. This was a fucking terrible idea.”
She laughed. “Yours, not mine. You want me to go?”
“Never.” He shook his head. “Into the shower. I’ll survive. Somehow.”
As soon as they were under the hot spray, he reached around her to adjust the temperature. “Good?”
Flynn turned in his arms. “Great.”
He grabbed the soap off the ledge as her tits pressed against his chest. He held the bar up next to them. “After you.”
She glanced at his hand and took it before stepping back to suds up.
It took all his self-control to do absolutely nothing. She turned into the water, and he got his first clear look at the angel wings that covered her back from shoulder to lower back.
“How long did those take?”
She glanced at him. “Forever. At least it felt like it.”
He smiled. “I get that. Tattoos suck.”
“Tell me about it. I questioned all my life choices while I was lying there, wondering why I’d ever thought it was a good idea.”
“They look great.”
She tossed a smile over her shoulder and then spun to hand him the soap. “Thanks.”
“How old were you?”
“Old enough. But young enough not to think twice.”
She glanced at his chest piece—St. Michael the archangel—and down his arms, where Jesus and Mother Mary’s faces stared out from roses, a sacred heart, a cross, and other pieces he’d collected over the years.
“I was equally surprised at your ink. I had no idea you were all tatted up under your suits.”
From the appreciative gleam in her green eyes, Marcus guessed she liked it.
“You think ink is hot?”
She nodded. “Yours is anyway.”
He couldn’t help it. He dropped the soap, cupped her ass, and pulled her naked body against his.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said as he lowered his lips to hers.
“Whatever you want, Marcus.”
He groaned as he took her mouth, knowing he’d never faced temptation quite like her before.
His character demanded he wait, and that was the one thing he would never sacrifice.
For anything. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the feel of her soft, wet curves pressed against his much harder body.
She hitched a leg up over his hip, bringing them center to center.
Marcus knew he was playing with fire when he pressed his cock between her sweet lips. He backed her up against the tiles and kissed down her throat. One shift, one lift, and he’d be inside what he imagined was the hottest, tightest heat he’d ever felt.
Instead, he lowered his lips to circle her nipple and tugged.
She pressed against him and rocked along his shaft.
He let her, pressing harder against her as she lifted her hips against him over and over. She threw back her head and moaned. Her entire body slumped against him, and he caught her before she could slide to the floor.
“Damn. Are you always like that? Fucking quick on the trigger?”
She mumbled against his shoulder, “It’s you. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He held her under the spray of the shower until the water started to cool. With a quick flick, he turned off the tap and made a mental note to install a bigger water heater.
“Come on, Stiglette. If you’re true to form, you’re gonna need a nap.”
“And food. So hungry.”
He heard her belly rumble as he reached for the towel on a hook on the wall. He dried her off and wrapped her in it before lifting her out. She tensed for a beat.
“I got you. I won’t drop you.”
“Okay.”
He carried her down the hall, not caring that he was dripping everywhere. He lay her on the bed, and her eyelids were drooping. She could’ve only gotten a couple hours of sleep. No wonder she was wiped.
“I’ll make some breakfast. Sleep till it’s ready.”
“You’re the best,” she said on a yawn as he pulled the blanket over her towel-clad form.
“No, sweetheart. Pretty sure that’s you.”
But Flynn was already out.
He shook his head. Such trust. She was something else. Something perfect for him. And he wasn’t letting her go.
Flynn woke to the smell of bacon and the heavenly scent of coffee.
She yawned and stretched as she remembered where she was and what had happened.
Her brilliant Marcus wake-up call, the shower, a fabulous orgasm, then a nap. Not a bad way to start the day.
Flynn rolled out of bed and spied the dresser from which he had produced the T-shirt last night. Hoping he didn’t mind, she opened a drawer and saw a neatly folded stack of them. Grabbing the one off the top, she slipped it on and made her way into the kitchen with the good smells.
Marcus was in sweats with a wife beater on.
His tattooed arms and chest were still shocking.
Actually, seeing him out of his customary suit was something she’d have to get used to, and Flynn was looking forward to it.
He clearly spent time in the gym. His shoulders were broad and rounded; his arms were thick with muscles beneath the ink.
And she knew from last night and the shower this morning that his pecs were rock solid and his flat stomach was hard.
He picked her up like she weighed nothing, and Flynn loved it.
And … he cooked.
As if he could feel her gaze studying him, Marcus looked over his shoulder.
“Thought I heard you. You want coffee? It’s nothing special, but there’re mugs in the cupboard, cream in the fridge, and sugar on the counter.”
“Yes, please and thank you.”
She helped herself to a mug out of the cabinet and poured herself a steaming cup. She settled on a stool that was pulled up to the counter a few feet from where he stood in front of the stove.
She sighed in appreciation as she took a sip. “Perfect.”
He glanced at her. “You drink brewed coffee black?”
She nodded as she took another sip. “This is good.”
“Puerto Rican. It’s the only coffee we drink in my family.”
“I can get behind that. It’s delicious.”
“Pop has it sent by the case.” He nodded at the stove. “You like crispy bacon?”
“Is there any other way?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Good. You’re not psycho.”
“That’s how I pass the test?”
He grinned a full smile this time. “How do you want your eggs?”
“Scrambled or over hard. I’m not picky. As long as they’re not runny.”
“Fair enough. Hard scramble coming up.”
He cracked a half-dozen eggs with one hand into a measuring cup and slid it to her with an elbow. “Beat ’em up.”
He tossed the shells in the trash and rinsed his hands while Flynn stared at the fork in the egg mixture.
For the first time since they’d started giving this thing between them a shot, she froze in fear.
When he turned back to the stove to flip the bacon onto a paper-towel-covered plate, he glanced at her.
“You ever make scrambled eggs before?”
“No.”
“Take the fork, mix the whites and yolks together. It’s not rocket science, Flynn.”
She let the energy out behind the fear as she reached for the fork.
“I don’t actually know how to cook anything,” she admitted as she began to stir the eggs.
“It’s not hard. Especially not for a girl who put herself through NYU and got a double major in econ and finance.”
Flynn stirred harder, and the yolks broke and began to mix with the whites. “You do listen.”
“Of course. How are you doing there?”
She looked in the measuring cup. “Still going.”
“Put some oomph in it. You ever watch cooking shows?”
She shook her head.
He held out a hand, and she offered the measuring cup to him. He took it and gripped the fork between two fingers and whipped the eggs together until they were a uniform color.
“You care if I cook them in bacon grease?”
“You can do that?”
He smiled. “That’s the only way Ma makes them. Grandpop too. He was ninety-six when he passed. Ate bacon and eggs every day.”
“I’m in. Do your thing.”
He nodded. “Consider this your first cooking lesson.”
“I’m learning to cook?”
“Starting today.”
“Really?”
He looked over at her. “Got a problem with that?”
“No, I just never expected you to …”
“Know how?” He poured the egg mixture into the hot grease, and it sizzled.
“Want to teach me,” she replied.
“Stiglette, there are plenty of things I’d like to teach you.”
“Like what?”
He waited a beat and then used a flipper thing to push the eggs around the pan.
“I’ll start making a list,” he replied. “But you know what’s not on it?”
“What?”
His dark brown gaze met hers. “How to give amazing head as a morning wake-up call.”
Flynn felt her cheeks heat. “Oh.”
To do it had been one thing. To talk about it? A different story.
“What brought that on?”
Flynn’s attention dipped to her coffee. “Um … it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Her fingers curled around the warm mug.
“Flynn.” He said her name and waited.
She finally lifted her gaze to his once more.
“You embarrassed?” His eyebrows rose.
“Yeah. A little.”
He turned to face her, two palms on the countertop and his black hair falling over his forehead. His stare was intense.
“Don’t be. I fucking loved it. Thought I was dreaming again, but it was the real deal.” He lowered his head and leaned across the counter to press a kiss to her lips. “You don’t ever need to be embarrassed with me. About anything.”
Flynn kissed him back as her belly growled. “Okay.”
He pulled back and returned to the pan on the vintage stove. “Now, let’s get some food in you.”