3. Flynn
FLYNN
The late afternoon sun slants through the doors, painting stripes across the concrete floor.
Faye's back is to me, her shoulders hunched over the sorting table, fingers flying as she inspects each cluster of grapes with that same damn intensity she gives everything.
The air smells like crushed fruit, thick enough to taste.
I don't say a word. Just lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watch.
Her hair's coming loose from its braid, dark strands sticking to the nape of her neck.
She's been at it for hours. No water. No break. Just that stubborn set to her jaw, like if she stops moving, the whole damn world might collapse.
My fingers flex against my biceps. The sight of her like this… exhausted, pushing herself past the point of reason makes my chest feel like it’s going to burst.
I push off the frame and step inside. The sound of my shoes on the concrete makes her stiffen, but she doesn't turn around.
"Faye."
She exhales, sharp and irritated, but doesn't stop working. "I'm almost done."
"No." The word comes out rougher than I mean it to. "You're done now."
That gets her attention. She whirls around, her cerulean eyes flashing. "I said I'm?—"
"Didn't we just talk about this?" I close the distance between us, my shadow swallowing hers.
Her lips part, but no argument comes. Just that stubborn tilt to her chin, like she's daring me to push.
I reach past her, my arm brushing hers as I pluck a grape from the nearest cluster. Her breath hitches, just for a second, before I pop it into my mouth. The sweetness bursts across my tongue, but not as sweet as her.
"When was the last time you ate?" I ask, my voice low.
She swallows, her gaze dropping to my mouth. "I had a big meal."
"Eight hours ago." I step closer, crowding her against the table. "You think I don't notice these things?"
Her fingers curl into the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. "I'm fine."
I suddenly lift her. Her weight's nothing in my arms. Faye kicks, a wildcat in denim, nails scraping my forearm. "Put me down. I need?—"
I cut her off with a growl, hauling her tighter against my chest. The kitchen tiles are cool under my shoes as I stride through the house, her scent filling my nose.
The chair scrapes back when I drop her into it. "Caring for yourself isn't optional," I say, voice rough.
She glares up at me, all fire and defiance, but her stomach growls loud enough to betray her.
I raise an eyebrow.
She huffs, but there's no real heat in it. Just that stubborn set to her jaw, the one that makes me want to bend her over my knee.
"Fine," she mutters. "But don't do that again."
I ignore that. The fridge hums as I pull out eggs, cheese, the last of the bacon. The sizzle of the pan fills the silence, sharp and demanding. Faye watches me, her fingers tapping restlessly against the table.
The eggs crack against the edge of the bowl, yolks glistening. "You're pushing too hard," I say, keeping my voice even. "That's not what we agreed on."
Her fingers still. "I don't need a lecture."
"No?" I pour the eggs into the pan, the sizzle swallowing her protest. "Then what do you need, Faye?"
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Her gaze flicks to the stove, then back to me, like she's searching for an answer in the lines of my face.
I plate the food and set it in front of her. She stares at it like it's a trap.
"Eat."
I lean against the counter, arms crossed, and watch.
She takes a bite. Chews. Swallows. Another. The tension in her shoulders eases, just a fraction.
"Thanks," she says quietly.
I don't answer. Just watch her eat, the way her lips wrap around the fork, the way her throat moves when she swallows.
When she's done, she pushes the plate away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Happy?"
I push off the counter and step closer. Close enough to see the flush creeping up her neck. Close enough to smell the sweat and grape juice clinging to her skin.
"Not yet."
Her breath catches.
I reach out, my fingers brushing her wrist. Her pulse jumps under my touch. "You broke the rules, Faye."
She swallows. "I?—"
"You skipped meals. Worked yourself to exhaustion." My thumb traces the inside of her wrist, slow, deliberate.
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
I lean in, my voice dropping to a growl. "You need to be punished."
Her eyes widen. Her breath comes faster, shallow and uneven. But she doesn't pull away.
I step back, just enough to give her space. To let her decide.
"Tonight," I say, my voice rough. "After you fall asleep."
The door creaks when I push it open, just enough to let the hallway light spill across her bed.
Faye's curled on her side, one arm tucked under her pillow, the other flung out like she's reaching for something.
The sheet's tangled around her waist, leaving her bare from the ribs up.
Her skin glows in the dim light, smooth and warm, the kind of skin that begs to be touched.
I step closer, my shoes silent on the hardwood. The scent of her hits me first…lavender and something sweeter, like ripe grapes left too long in the sun. My cock twitches against my zipper, but I ignore it. This isn't about me.
Not yet.
Her breathing's slow, deep. Too deep. Like she's drowning in sleep, lost to the world. I reach out, my fingers hovering just above her shoulder. Then I trace the curve of her collarbone, light as a whisper. She doesn't stir.
Good.
I peel the sheet back, exposing the rest of her.
She's wearing one of those thin camisoles, the kind that clings to every curve.
The fabric's damp in places, clinging to her skin like a second layer.
I drag my thumb over the wet spot between her tits, and she sighs in her sleep, her back arching just a little.
My fingers curl into the hem of the camisole, and I peel it up, slow, careful. The fabric sticks to her skin, resisting at first, then giving way with a soft shhh of protest.
Her tits spill free, full and heavy, the nipples already hard, dark pink and begging for my mouth. I cup one, my palm rough against her softness, and she moans, low and needy, her hips shifting restlessly on the bed.
I pinch her nipple, just enough to make her gasp. Her back arches, her tits thrusting into my hand, and I can't help but groan. She's so fucking responsive, even in her sleep. Like her body knows who it belongs to.
I lean down, my breath hot against her skin, and take her nipple into my mouth. She tastes like salt and sweetness, like the first sip of a good wine. I swirl my tongue around the peak, then bite down, just enough to make her whimper.
I move to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment…
licking, sucking, biting. Her hips roll against the mattress, her thighs pressing together, searching for friction.
I slide my hand down, my fingers slipping under the waistband of her panties.
She's soaked, her arousal slick and hot against my skin.
I groan against her tit, my cock throbbing in my jeans.
She moans, her head tossing on the pillow. I circle her clit with my thumb, slow and teasing, and her hips jerk up, chasing my touch. I pull back just enough to deny her, and she whines, her fingers tightening in my hair.
She grumbles. I chuckle, low and dark. "What is it, Faye? You want to come?"
She stirs, and I smirk.
"Not yet." I pinch her clit, just hard enough to make her gasp, then pull my hand away. She whimpers, her hips lifting off the bed, desperate for more.
I slide two fingers into her, slow and deep. She's tight, so fucking tight, her walls clenching around me as I curl my fingers, searching for that spot. She cries out, her back arching, her tits bouncing with the force of her pleasure.
"That's it," I growl, my thumb circling her clit again. "Take it, Faye. Take everything I give you."
Her hips roll, her body moving in time with my fingers, chasing the pleasure I'm denying her. I can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around me, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I pull my fingers out, just before she can come, and she whines, her body trembling with need.
I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. "Not yet, Faye. You don't get to come until I let you."
She whimpers, her hips lifting off the bed, searching for my touch. I slide my fingers back into her, slow and deep, and she moans, her body clenching around me. I can feel her getting closer again, her walls tightening, her breath hitching.
I pull my fingers out.
She cries out again, her body trembling, her hips jerking against the empty air.
I chuckle, low and dark. "Such a greedy little thing. You want to come, Faye? You want to feel my fingers inside you, my thumb on your clit?"
She whimpers, her hips rolling, her body desperate for release. "Flynn," she whispers, her voice thick with sleep.
I slide my fingers and let her get close before pulling my fingers out again.
She cries out, her body trembling, her hips jerking against the empty air.
I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. "You don't get to come until I decide you've earned it."
She whimpers, her body trembling, her hips rolling against the mattress.
Her thighs tremble when I spread them wider, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. I drag my tongue up her slit, slow, savoring the taste of her, salt and sweetness, like the first press of grapes in autumn. She whimpers in her sleep, her hips lifting off the bed, chasing my mouth.
"Such a needy little thing," I murmur against her cunt, my breath hot against her skin. "Even in your sleep, you're begging for my tongue."
I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, teasing, just enough to make her gasp. Her fingers tangle in my hair, not pulling, just holding on, like she's afraid I'll stop.
I slide two fingers into her, slow and deep, curling them just right.
Her back arches, her tits bouncing with the force of her pleasure.
I can feel her walls clenching around me, her body desperate for release.
I pull my fingers again, just before she can come, and she whines, her hips jerking against the empty air.
She whimpers, her body trembling, her hips rolling against the mattress. I slide my tongue over her clit, slow and teasing, and she gasps.
"That's it," I growl, my voice rough. "Take it, Faye. Take everything I give you."
I suck her clit into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. She cries out, her hips lifting off the bed, her body desperate for release.
The bed creaks under my weight as I shift, my knees sinking into the mattress between her spread thighs. Her skin's slick with sweat, her tits rising and falling with every ragged breath. I can see the pulse fluttering in her throat, fast and desperate, like a hummingbird trapped in a jar.
I unbuckle my belt, the leather whispering against denim.
The sound makes her flinch, her thighs trembling where they press against my hips.
My cock springs free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with need.
I wrap my hand around the shaft, giving myself one slow stroke, my thumb smearing the precum over the crown.
Faye whimpers, her hips rolling, her body searching for friction. I press my free hand against her stomach, pinning her down. "Stay still," I growl, my voice rough.
Her breath hitches, her tits quivering with the force of it. I can see the way her nipples tighten, the dark pink peaks begging for my mouth. I lean down, my lips brushing the curve of her breast, my tongue flicking out to taste her skin.
I drag my tongue up to her nipple, circling the peak before sucking it into my mouth. She gasps, her back arching. I bite down, just enough to make her whimper, then soothe the sting with my tongue.
My hand moves faster on my cock, the slick sound of skin on skin filling the room.
I can feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight.
I pull back from her nipple, my breath hot against her skin.
"You want to see me come, Faye? You want to watch me spill all over your pretty tits? "
She whimpers, her hips lifting off the bed, her body desperate for release. I press her back down, my hand firm against her stomach.
I stroke myself harder, my hand moving faster, the pressure building, coiling tight. I can feel the heat pooling in my gut, my balls drawing up tight. I groan, my hips jerking, my cock throbbing in my hand.
"Fuck," I grit out, my voice rough. "Look at you, Faye. So fucking desperate for it. You want to come, don't you?"
She whimpers, her body trembling, her hips rolling against the mattress. I can see the way her thighs press together, searching for friction, her clit swollen and needy.
I groan, my hips jerking, my cock throbbing in my hand. The pressure builds, coiling tight, and then I'm coming, thick ropes of cum spilling over my fingers, splashing onto her tits, her stomach, her thighs.
I collapse onto my side, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Faye whimpers, her body trembling, her hips rolling against the mattress.
I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. "You don't get to come tonight, Faye. Not even in your sleep." My fingers trail down her stomach, tracing the curve of her hip. "Because tomorrow…" I pinch her clit, just hard enough to make her gasp. "Tomorrow, I'll let you beg for it."