Chapter 24 #2
“Facing down or up? Legs in the air?”
“I’ve never … just, like, normal missionary.”
“That’s your favorite? Or that’s the only position you’ve tried?”
“Um …”
Lust is starting to fade like a soda going flat.
The more I try to hold on to the fizziness, the faster it fades.
I’m in my living room, in the middle of the night, on the lap of a guy who has probably tried every position ever invented.
A guy who is best friends with my cousin, so I’ll have to see him long after this strange arrangement ends.
I’ll have to wonder if he’s thinking about this embarrassing moment, realizing I’m as vanilla as everyone says.
I try to pull my hands free so I can scramble away, but his grip is tight.
“Let go,” I snap.
“Answer the question, and I will.”
“It’s—I’ve—” It’s easier to discuss this while I’m irritated with him. It’s closer to our old dynamic. “I’m—it feels better for me when we’re facing each other. I’ve never come when the guy is behind me.”
Flynn releases my wrists.
I don’t move. I’m still embarrassed, but it’s a bearable burn.
He says nothing, just stares at me.
“Was that … it?”
“Do you want that to be it?”
“No! I’m—” He waits, so I continue, “I want you to give me more.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want whatever you’ll give me.”
Flynn grins. “You’re a fast fucking learner, Rory Kensington.” He kisses me.
My entire body is tingling as I feel his tongue slide inside my mouth. I wrap my arms around his neck. His hands slip under my ass, lifting me. Then we’re moving. I squeak with surprise as he carries me down the hallway. Flynn veers left, into his bedroom, then abruptly turns right and enters mine.
“Why’d you come in here instead?” I ask, twisting so I can see his face better.
Remorse flashes across Flynn’s face before he says, “Finch is asleep on my bed.”
I huff. “She would still be living in a shelter if not for me.”
“She just needs more time to get used to you.”
“She didn’t need more time to get used to you,” I point out. “She was literally sleeping on your chest earlier.”
For someone who claimed not to want a cat, Flynn looks awfully pleased about that. “Females of all species love me.”
I snort, but I can’t exactly dispute it.
Flynn sets me down on the edge of my mattress, then flicks on the lamp beside my bed. “Lie back.”
I listen, rolling my head left so I can still watch him. He reaches for the silky shorts I’m wearing, pulling them down, along with my practical cotton underwear. Had I had any idea this would happen, I would’ve worn lingerie. Flynn doesn’t appear to care.
He tosses the fabric on the floor. “Spread your thighs.”
I swallow hard before letting my knees fall open.
Cool air hits the wetness gathered there, making me hiss.
It should feel objectifying, lying here while he stares.
But I don’t feel demeaned at all. Maybe because I did the same thing to him while the smoke alarm was going off, so this feels fair.
Maybe because it’s so obvious on Flynn’s face that he likes what he sees. That he’s admiring me.
“Fuck,” he says huskily, running a hand up the inside of my thigh. Holding it wider. “Look at you.”
“Want a photo?” I tease.
His eyes trail up to my face, as leisurely as the rest of his movements. “Wouldn’t do it justice.”
I blush. I feel the warmth stain my cheeks and trickle down to my exposed chest. “Let me see you.”
“I need to taste you first.”
He’s lowering to his knees, beside my bed, his mouth at the perfect height to reach my pussy. A second later, his tongue touches my clit.
I practically levitate off the bed.
Flynn’s hand curves around my hip, hooking my left leg over his shoulder.
Holding me in place, open and exposed, exactly where he wants me.
Forcing me to take only what he gives me.
He teases me, flicking, then sucking, then swirling, then stopping.
Exploring with his wet, warm, talented tongue the same deliberate, domineering way he’s kissed my mouth.
I didn’t know it could be like this.
I wasn’t aware anything could feel this good. I’m torn between racing toward the release I can feel hovering and wanting this approaching sensation to last forever.
I’m still conflicted when I come. I come while half-heartedly fighting it because I’m incapable of stopping it.
It’s such a contrast from my usual struggle to encourage it; the rush of euphoria feels like flying.
I fist the sheets. My toes curl. I can’t stop saying his name.
Every cliché I thought everyone was exaggerating exists.
I sprawl, sated and limp, every bit of stress and uncertainty and negative emotion thoroughly wrung out of my body. There’s no space for any of it amid the many endorphins my system is swimming with.
The mattress dips as Flynn lies down beside me. “Did you come? I couldn’t tell.”
I try to hit his arm, but my muscles won’t fully cooperate. “Shut up.”
“That’s not a nice way to talk to the mouth you love so much. You came so hard that I could feel your cunt clenching.”
That’s exactly what happens after he says that.
I’m swollen and sensitive after the strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced, yet I want more.
I roll on my side, reaching for his waistband again.
He doesn’t stop me this time, just watches while my hand slides beneath the elastic band of the shorts he’s wearing.
Taut, hot skin. Short, raspy hair. Then thick, smooth hardness.
I fist his cock, tugging it free from his shorts.
He’s fully aroused, the skin stretched so tight that it appears shiny.
I run my thumb along a raised vein that runs the entire impressive length, circling the flared tip once I reach it.
Flynn grunts, the sliver of his abs that I can see flexing. “Where are your condoms?”
“I don’t have any condoms.”
“What?” He turns his head. “You don’t?”
Why is he acting like that’s strange?
“You’re the only guy who’s ever spent the night here. I’ve only been with one person since Carson, and we went back to his place.”
“The doctor douche? Why the fuck did you sleep with him?”
“Because Carson and I hardly ever had sex and I wanted to get laid. Just go get a condom from your room.” I let go of his cock so I can fling an arm in that direction. “It’s not exactly far.”
Flynn scowls, then sighs. “I don’t have any either.”
I laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“I don’t. I wasn’t exactly expecting this”—he gestures between our bodies—“would happen while I was staying here.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” he repeats incredulously. “Because, up until a few weeks ago, you avoided being in the same room as me and my idiocy. I figured living in the same apartment would make that a lot worse, not mean we’d wind up in bed together.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” I tell the ceiling.
“Except when I can’t fuck you, right?”
I eye his erection, which hasn’t deflated at all. “I stopped taking birth control when I started law school since it made me … and since I wasn’t …” He doesn’t need every detail. “I’ve always used condoms. You could pull out?”
I’m desperate to experience what it’d be like to have him inside of me. And I’m worried this won’t happen again, that it’s only taking place because it’s so late and we’re in a strange situation where sleeping with anyone else could put our arrangement in jeopardy.
Even so, I can’t believe those words exited my mouth. I’m careful when it comes to everything, but exceptionally cautious concerning sex. An unplanned pregnancy is not part of my five-year plan. Just because the only part of that on track is my career doesn’t mean it’s time to abandon it entirely.
“I got a vasectomy in college.”
I still as the unexpected reply registers. A thousand guesses, and I wouldn’t have anticipated that response.
“So, it’s extremely unlikely you’d get pregnant,” he adds.
“I know how a vasectomy works.” I’m incredibly curious why he made that decision, but I’m not sure I have any right to ask. Or how to phrase the question.
“A friend died during my freshman year. I didn’t deal with the grief very well.
Or, like, at all. Lots of drinking, drugs …
sex. A girl came up to me right before winter break, saying she was late and I was the only guy she’d ever been with.
I didn’t even recognize her. She got an abortion.
I scheduled my procedure the day she told me.
I was looking for distractions, not any responsibility.
I was nineteen, and my dad was already going on about my future constantly, not caring that I didn’t give a shit about a career or marriage or having kids. ”
“I’m really sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks.” He glances over. “I don’t like talking about it.”
“Understandable.”
“I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone since the last time I was tested.”
There’s still tingling between my thighs.
He’s still hard, his erection resting on his abs.
But I’m not just surprised by what Flynn shared; I’m surprised he shared anything at all.
Of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one struggling with the concept of casual.
This no longer only feels physically intimate, and I’m not sure how to revert to my sole focus being lust.
“Rory.”
I meet his gaze.
“Do you still want to?”
There’s a concerned crease in Flynn’s forehead and a tension to his jaw that wasn’t there a moment ago. And I realize … he thinks I’m judging him.
“Honestly?”
He nods. “Tell me the truth. Always.”
“I’ve never wanted to have sex more than I do right now. I just feel a little weird about that since you just told me about a terrible time in your life and confirmed that your dad has always been an asshole.”
It takes a second, and then a slow grin starts to spread across his face.
A few minutes later, I finally find out what sex with Flynn Parks is like.