Chapter 11
chapter
eleven
Temple
By the time I make it back to my grandmother’s house, it’s dark outside and my panties are ruined. My nerves were pretty well shot by the time I climbed into the back of the limousine. So I’d helped myself to a glass of champagne for the drive back to the house.
That alcohol had taken the edge off so I wasn’t the sick kind of nervous. No one wants a nervous tummy before sexy times.
That’s what was about to happen, right? I mean that’s what he’d more or less implied in his texts.
When the sleek black car pulled up into the circular drive, I saw a lone figure leaning against one of the big white columns that flanked the double front doors. As soon as the car is parked, Flynn shoves off the column and opens my car door.
“Wife,” he says, holding his hand out to me.
I let him help me out of the car and immediately his hand falls to cup my ass. “Upstairs. Now.” His tone is deep and demanding and my nipples pebble in response.
“Are we going to have sex?” I whisper.
“Yes. A lot of it.”
That makes me giggle.
We climb the stairs in silence, then he’s pulling me towards a room.
“Is this the one they put us in?” I ask, curious that they didn’t just give us my room from when I lived here full-time. “Because my old room?—”
Flynn’s lips crash down onto mine as he closes the bedroom door behind us. He doesn’t seem to care about what I was trying to say because he’s crowding me into the room.
“Fuck, Temple, I’ve never been this hard in my whole goddamn life. And in full honesty, I had to take the edge off once already so I didn’t come at the first sight of your tits.” His voice is ragged as if he is suffering a bit.
Then he’s kissing me again and backing me into the room until my legs hit a mattress. His mouth licks down the column of my throat and I slide my hands under the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Warm, hard skin meets my palms, and he groans at my touch.
“To answer the question I think you were asking, I moved us to this room because I wanted some privacy. While I want to prove to Rick the Dick that our marriage is very much real, I don’t want to do that by letting him hear you scream my name.” He cups my face and leans back a little to meet my gaze. “This is for us. It’s not for show. It’s not to prove anything.”
I swallow hard and nod.
I want to ask what this means for after Houston. If our marriage is real and legal so we get to have sex, but then we will also be getting divorced? Is that what he means?
But, I realize it doesn’t actually matter what he means. I’m going to let him fuck me either way. I can’t tell him with my words how I feel about him—how I’ve always felt about him—but I can show him with my body.
I pull his t-shirt off, then run my hands over the muscular ridges of his torso. He’s got scars and a couple of tattoos, but mostly it’s just skin covered sinew with a dark smattering of hair. I want to touch him everywhere.
“You said you took the edge off already,” I say as he continues to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone.
He hums in response. Then his hands are lifting my shirt, dragging it up and off my body. His dark eyes latch onto my bra-covered boobs. It’s a pretty bra as far as work-horse bras go. When you have boobs the size of mine, you’ve gotta go with function over aesthetic. Still, the cream-colored silk and lace do their job, holding my big girls in place, while also being nice to look at.
“Temple,” he groans my name, then leans forward and nips at the rise of my left breast. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see these.” His palms come up and cup me, weighing, squeezing.
I reach behind me to unhook it—three prongs for this utilitarian brazier. Then I let the cups loosen and the straps slide down my shoulders.
“What were you thinking about earlier? When you touched yourself?” I ask.
He stands to his full height and lifts his gaze from my boobs to my face. “Truthfully?”
I wince. “Yes.” I steel myself, waiting for him to admit he was fantasizing about another woman.
“Eating your kitty.”
I gasp.
“It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I found your vibrator. Me licking and sucking at your sweetness until you come all over my face.”
I wheeze. Yep, I’m making all the sexy noises, and he’s barely touched me.
“You going to let me do that, wife? Can I eat your pussy until you’re screaming my name?”
“That feels like a trick question,” I manage to say. “I mean, yes, please.”
His dark chuckle scatters goosebumps all over my body. My nipples tighten to painful tips.
His thumbs brush over them. “I want to fuck these too. But not now. We’ll save that for later.” He steps away from me then, pulling off his jeans and kicking them to the side. He’s left in a pair of tight boxer briefs, R2D2 style. The bulge is obscene, it’s so large.
“Nerdy boxers,” I say.
He hums again. “Take off your clothes, Temple.” He sits on the floor, leaning his back against the foot of the bed.
I swallow thickly but do as he says. I remove each piece knowing that there’s no going back for me after this. I’m giving him every part of me, and I know there will never be another man for me. I feign confidence I don’t exactly feel, planting my fists on my hips and looking at his face.
I’ve got bumps and rolls and dimples and stretch marks, and everything else society tells me isn’t sexually attractive. But I can see the lust on my husband’s face. He wants me. Maybe not even in spite of my flaws, but because of them. He’s always told me I’m perfect just the way I am.
My body isn’t perfect, but it’s strong and healthy and I’m going to give it all to Flynn Harrington.