Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
SASHA
My bedroom is softly lit by the afternoon sun pouring through my windows. I sip water in a nearby chair as Flynn lounges on the bed, legs sprawled. The air between us feels easy, but there’s an undercurrent of something more, something unspoken. Flynn’s date with Levi has been the topic of our conversations for the last few days, and the more he talks about it, the happier he seems.
“Your date with Levi was good for you, Flynn,” I say, my voice steady but full of affection. I observed him closely, noticing a newfound gleam in his eyes. “You can see it, right? How easy it is with him?”
Flynn nods, his smile soft and genuine, but there’s something in his eyes I can’t quite place.
“I know,” he replies quietly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s... it’s more than I expected. Everything just clicked. It’s like I’ve been waiting for it to happen, but I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”
I lean back in my chair, my mind buzzing with thoughts. Although I’m thrilled for him, I secretly wonder how long it will be until my relationship with him changes.
“I’m glad,” I say, my words soft, filled with meaning. “You deserve happiness, Flynn.”
He glances at me, and for a moment, his eyes search mine, filled with gratitude. “You really think so?”
Smiling at him, a flutter hits my chest. “I know so.”
The conversation pauses, then Flynn’s face takes on a bolder, more mischievous look.
“So, I’ve been thinking...” he trails off, a playful glint in his eyes. “What would you say about you being my next date?”
My heart skips a beat.
“I’d love that,” I instantly reply, though I feel less confident than I sound. I lean forward, my hand brushing the edge of my cup. “I’ve actually got the perfect idea. Can you be ready in an hour?”
The words hang between us for a second, and then Flynn bursts into laughter, his laugh bright and unexpected, filling the room with a warmth I hadn’t realized I needed. It’s contagious, and soon enough, I’m laughing with him, feeling the tension that has been there for so long slip away.
“Ready in an hour?” Flynn repeats, a hint of amusement still in his voice. “Yeah, I’ll be ready. Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out when we get there,” I say with a shrug, leaning back in my chair again. “I think you’ll like it.”
We both stand, and Flynn hesitates for a moment before taking a step toward me. He’s staring at me in a way that makes me blush and my pulse quicken. For a second, I think he might say something else, but instead, he just gives me a slow nod.
“Alright. I trust you.”
* * *
I peel off my day clothes and slip into a fitted black tank top and stretchy leggings that mold to my body, perfect for movement and agility. The fabric clings snugly, and a thought strikes me—I forgot to instruct my omega on the dress code. Swiftly, I dash to the door, flinging it open to call out, “Flynn! Wear something loose and comfy!”
I sweep my hair into a haphazard bun, strands escaping as I leave my room. Just then, Flynn steps out of his, and my breath hitches. How does he manage to look so sexy in simple joggers and a loose, casual shirt? His blond hair is impeccably styled, a striking contrast to the disheveled, sweat-slicked mess it was when I found him at Carlisles’ that night.
He meets my gaze with a shy smile that makes my heart flutter.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yup,” he replies without hesitation.
The afternoon sky is lit up with blue and purple hues as we step outside and head to my car. As we head into town, it buzzes with life as we pass bustling businesses and weave through traffic. After a brief drive, we arrive at the self-defense studio.
From the outside, it appears modest, but inside, the atmosphere is electric; laughter and shouts mingle with the thud of bodies hitting mats. Flynn’s eyes widen with a mix of curiosity and nerves as he watches others practicing their moves.
“Are you sure about this, Sasha?” he asks, uncertainty lacing his voice.
“Absolutely,” I reassure him, grabbing his hand as we make our way toward a vacant mat. “I come here every now and then, and I want you to join me. The world can be a scary place, Flynn, and I feel more at ease knowing I can protect myself.”
We join a small group for warm-ups. I guide Flynn through a series of basic stretches, demonstrating each movement. As I extend my arm to show him how to stretch his triceps, my hand grazes his shoulder, and an unexpected spark of electricity races between us, making my core tingle.
The instructor, a tall man with a commanding presence, leads us through an array of techniques designed for real-life situations. He demonstrates how to break free from holds and how to strike effectively if necessary, his movements swift and deliberate. With each demonstration, I steal glances at Flynn, noticing his intense focus. His brow furrows slightly as he concentrates, absorbing every detail like a sponge, determined to master each move.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper softly during a drill where he practices escaping a wrist grab. “Just remember to use your body weight.”
He nods, his eyes fixed on the instructor’s wrist.
On his second attempt, Flynn surprises me by executing the move flawlessly. He twists his body with a fluid motion, leveraging his weight perfectly to break free. A wide grin spreads across his face as the realization of his success dawns on him. “Did you see that?” he exclaims, turning to me with eyes bright and full of excitement.
“I did! You were amazing!” I respond enthusiastically, my heart swelling with pride for him.
The class continues, and as Flynn gains confidence, I can see the shift in his demeanor. He moves with a newfound lightness, laughing with the other participants and throwing me cheeky grins that send warmth flooding through my chest. Each time he nails a technique, I feel a swell of admiration for him, not just for his physical prowess, but for the way he’s starting to embrace this part of himself—the part that fights back.
After an hour of exhilarating drills, we wrap up with some cool-down stretches. The instructor encourages everyone to share their thoughts on the class. Flynn, still riding high on adrenaline, turns to me and says, “I never thought I’d enjoy something like this. It feels empowering.”
“See? You’re stronger than you think,” I reply, nudging him playfully with my shoulder. “And that strength isn’t just about your body; it’s about your spirit too.”
As we leave the studio, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. We head to a cozy little coffee shop not far from where we parked. The scent of roasted coffee beans wafts through the air, mingling with sweet pastries displayed temptingly behind glass. We order fancy lattes topped with intricate foam art and sandwiches that look as delicious as they smell.
Settling at a small table by the window, our drinks steaming between us, I watch as Flynn takes a sip of his drink and sighs contentedly. It’s moments like these that make me realize how much I cherish our growing connection.
But then his expression shifts slightly—vulnerability creeping into his bright blue eyes. “Sasha,” he begins hesitantly, setting down his cup. “That class was amazing. I enjoyed it way more than I thought I would. I... sometimes I feel weak compared to you. I’d love to go do it again.”
My heart aches for him.
“Flynn,” I say firmly, leaning forward so he knows I’m serious. “Needing protection doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human.” My voice softens. “You’ve been through so much already. Just surviving is a testament to your strength.”
He looks at me intently, searching my face for sincerity. “Really?” he asks quietly.
“Absolutely,” I say without hesitation. “You’re learning to stand up for yourself now. That takes courage—more than most people have.”
The conversation shifts back to lighter topics; we discuss our favorite types of coffee and compare our sandwiches—his turkey club versus my tuna fish—and laughter fills the space between us once more.
Once we finish our meals, I insist that this date isn’t over yet. “Come on,” I say playfully as we walk out together into the cool evening air. “Let’s go change into jammies and keep this night going.”
Flynn’s brows arch in surprise as he follows me back to my car.
When we finally pull into the driveway, I steal a glance at Flynn, who seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed out the window as he absently twirls a lock of his blond hair between his fingers. It’s grown since we’ve rescued him from the Carlisles’, the added length making him even sexier.
“Ready for some cozy vibes?” I tease as we step out of the car. He blinks back to reality and nods, a soft smile creeping onto his lips.
“I need to stop at my room and get something,” I tell him as we pass my door. Quickly I dash inside, grab a shirt, shorts, and the last thing needed for our night before hurrying back to him.
I lead him to his room, which is adorned with fairy lights and scattered cushions that create an inviting atmosphere. “Make yourself at home,” he says.
“Thanks. I’m gonna change into my pajamas and so are you.”
I can hear Flynn shifting behind me as he changes, and I glance over my shoulder just in time to catch him staring at me. My belly warms and my pussy dampens as his eyes linger on me. The sweet, sharp burst of orange rolling off him tells me exactly how much he appreciates my body. The fabric of my tank top clings just right against my skin, and as I pull on loose pajama shorts, I feel a shiver run through me.
“Um...,” he stutters slightly, his cheeks flushing pink as he quickly averts his gaze when he realizes he’s been caught. But it’s too late; that moment hangs between us like an unspoken promise.
I try to shake off his worry by reaching for something lighthearted. “Hey!” I announce brightly. “I brought something special.”
Grabbing two copies of the same book from my room, I show them to him—the covers emblazoned with bold letters that read Railed by the Bikers . Flynn raises an eyebrow, intrigued yet amused.
“What’s this?” he asks, taking one from me tentatively.
“We’re going to read together,” I reply mischievously. “You mentioned you wanted to read more now that you have time, so I thought we could dive into this one.” My voice lowers playfully as I add, “Now I'll have someone to talk shit about my book porn with.”
He bursts into laughter again, and it’s contagious; soon we’re both giggling like children caught doing something mischievous. “This should be interesting,” Flynn says with mock seriousness as he flips open the book.
“Just wait until we get to the good parts,” I tease back. We settle onto his bed—side by side but close enough that our knees touch—and start reading aloud. The words flow easily from our lips; we alternate paragraphs and share knowing glances whenever particularly steamy lines pop up.
I chuckle to myself, thinking of the torture this must be for Levi and Stone. Between the two of us, there’s no doubt the house will be thick with the sweet scent of citrus—driving them absolutely wild.
“You’d think they’d at least make it believable,” Flynn closes his book and his focus shifts from the words on the page to me.
“Okay,” I say, “we’ll take a break. What’s your favorite thing about tonight?”
“Honestly?” he replies. “It’s just… being here with you. I never thought I’d feel this free again.”
“I’m really glad to hear that. You deserve to feel free.”
He swallows hard, his gaze flickering down to the space between us before lifting back to meet mine. “It’s because of you, Sasha.” The sincerity in his voice makes my breath catch. “You’ve made me feel safe enough to explore parts of myself I thought were lost forever.”
And then it happens—his lips find mine in a tentative brush. It’s soft and sweet. But as we both lean into it deeper, our kiss ignites into something far more passionate and urgent. Heat floods through me as I respond instinctively, tilting my head to deepen our kiss.
He moans softly—a sound that sends shivers down my spine—and before I can think better of it, I roll over so I’m hovering above him. He looks up at me with an intensity that makes my heart race uncontrollably.
“I need you, Sasha,” he breathes out between kisses that grow more fervent. “Show me there can be pleasure with no pain.”
“Are you sure, Flynn? There’s no rush.” My voice is low and filled with concern for him, even amidst my own rising desire.
“Yes,” he insists, his blue eyes locking onto mine. “Show me I have nothing to fear. I know it deep down, but I'm still nervous. Help me prove it to myself."
I nod and pull off his shirt with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his skin glows under the soft fairy lights scattered around the room. My lips find their way down his chest as I kiss along each defined muscle—each touch igniting a trail of heat beneath my fingertips.
Flynn gasps softly; every moan from him fueling my own desire.
Need coils low in my belly as I reach the waistband of his sweatpants. Slowly, I pull them down— no underwear underneath —and his cock springs free, proud and thick, already flushed at the tip and leaking slick in anticipation.
“Fuck,” I breathe, unable to hide my appreciation for his hard length. “You’re so beautiful,” my voice raspy with desire as I take him into my mouth, licking and sucking gently at first before picking up speed in response to his moans of pleasure.
“Sasha...” he moans, arching upwards into my mouth as if he can't get enough of me. And in that moment, all the doubts and fears that had plagued both of us vanish; all that matters is right here, right now—two people learning each other.
“We’ll take this as slow as you need.”
I guide him to lie back against the pillows as I stand on the bed and push my shorts and panties down, tossing them to the floor. His eyes never leave mine as I straddle him, positioning myself over his throbbing length. He's so hard against my entrance that it almost hurts—but in the best way possible.
"Just tell me when you're ready," I whisper into his ear before nibbling along his jawline.
"I'm ready," he breathes out shakily, gripping the sheets tightly beneath him. "I trust you."
And with those words, I begin to lower myself onto him—inch by agonizing inch—feeling every ridge and vein as he stretches me.
Flynn's eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw clenched in concentration as he moans. "You're so wet," he hisses, gripping my hips as he helps guide himself deeper until he's fully sheathed inside me.
His slick coats him, making every inch of him slide in smoothly and maddeningly slow.
“Fuck, you feel so good," I moan, rocking my hips against his in a slow, sensual rhythm. "I can feel how much you want this."
He groans again, his eyes sliding shut as pleasure washes over his face. It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen, and it only spurs me on further. "Look at me," I command, my voice husky with lust. "I want to see your beautiful eyes." His ocean blues fly open, locking onto mine.
"God, Sasha... I can't believe this is happening."
"Believe it," I pant as I rock my hips faster against his. "You're mine tonight, Flynn. And every night after that, if you want it."
His answer is a guttural groan as he leans up and swiftly pushes my tank up, exposing my tits, and sucks a nipple into his mouth. “I want to taste you. Can I please?” he asks, popping off.
“Never ask, Flynn. I’m yours,” I whisper as I arch my back, giving him better access. He doesn’t need any more encouragement; his warm tongue laps at my nipple while his hand finds its way to my clit.
I shift, climbing off him, my body already aching for more. He guides me onto my back, his hands firm but worshipful. My pulse races as I watch him settle between my legs, his breath feathering over my skin, sending shivers up my spine. The first touch of his mouth is almost hesitant, but when he tastes me—really tastes me—he lets out a sound that’s all need and hunger. A whimper, raw and broken, like he’s never had anything so perfect.
“God, Sasha…” His voice is muffled, but I can feel the vibration of his words against me, sinking into my skin, winding me tighter with every flick of his tongue, every slow, deliberate movement. “My slick mixed with you is amazing.”
Pleasure coils low in my stomach, building higher, burning hotter, until it breaks. My fingers tighten in his hair as I cry out, every nerve alight, every part of me shattering beneath his touch. He doesn’t stop until he’s wrung every last aftershock from my body, then crawls up my body, his lips swollen, his expression wrecked with awe.
I cup his face, pulling him into a kiss, tasting myself on his lips, feeling the way he trembles against me. “I need you,” I whisper against his mouth. “I need you inside me.”
A shudder runs through him, and he positions himself between my thighs, his hands gripping my hips as he slowly pushes forward. The stretch is slow, perfect, and I watch his face as he sinks into me—watch the way his brows furrow, his jaw clenches, his lips part on a shaky breath.
“God, you feel—” His words break into a groan as he starts to move, each thrust firm but unhurried, like he’s savoring every second. I hold on to him, wrapping myself around him as pleasure builds again, this time slower, deeper, until we’re both trembling on the edge.
"Oh fuck, Sasha," he pants, "I'm close... too close..."
"That's it," I encourage him, my voice breathless as he picks up the pace, driving into me harder, deeper, until we're both moaning. "Come for me, Flynn. Show me what it feels like to be yours.”
And with that final push, his rhythm stutters, and then he’s gasping my name, his whole body going taut before he shudders, spilling into me. A strangled sound leaves his lips as he collapses beside me, his chest rising and falling in ragged pants.
Then, to my surprise, he lets out a quiet, shaky breath—and I realize he’s crying.
My heart clenches, and I roll onto my side, wrapping my arms around him. “Flynn?” I whisper, smoothing my fingers through his damp hair. “It’s okay, Flynn. Shhh. I’m so sorry.”
He wipes at his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not upset, Sasha,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “It was amazing. Everything I hoped it would be.” He swallows hard, his lips curving into a trembling smile. “These are happy tears. Tears that know I’m finally where I’m meant to be. Where I’ll find my happily ever after.”
A lump rises in my throat, and I pull him closer, pressing my lips to his temple. “Me too,” I murmur, my own eyes burning. “Me too.”