Chapter 47
Finch welcomes Rory and me home with loud meows.
She stayed with a pet sitter while we were out of town, attending Lili’s wedding, and it wasn’t a positive experience for either of them.
I guess Finch yowled for large portions of the long weekend.
She seems greatly relieved that we’ve resumed returning daily, circling our ankles with her tail swishing sassily.
“I found an apartment,” I comment, yanking off my tie and slipping off my shoes before setting the bag of takeout we stopped for on the counter.
Rory rises from the crouch she was lowered in, petting the cat. “In … Boston?”
“In this building.”
“In this—what? Why would you get an apartment in this building?”
I tick the reasons off on one hand. “I only have to move my clothes a couple of floors. I already timed the commute to work. Finch can stay with me sometimes. I like Gavin.”
“There’s no outdoor terrace,” Rory interjects.
I grin. “True. But I don’t really care about amenities. I care about being near you. So, by that criterion, your building is really the only option for me to move.”
“If you care about being near me … why would you move at all?”
I study her expression closely. “You want to keep living together?”
She nods. “I know this was only supposed to be temporary, so if it’s too serious or too fast for—”
“You heard me earlier, right? I love you. That’s not casual or moving slow.”
Her cheeks are a shade darker suddenly. “Yeah, I heard you.”
“Good.” I open the paper bag and start pulling out containers. “Do you want to eat here or at the tab—”
A scrap of lace lands on my right arm. I grab the thong with my left hand, crumpling it in my palm.
Abandoning dinner on the island, I walk toward a smirking Rory. “Subtle.”
She crosses her arms, leaning against the back of one of the armchairs. “I wasn’t trying to be.”
“I can take a hint.”
“I know. It’s one of your few redeeming qualities.”
I grin. “I love it when you’re mean to me.”
Rory rolls her eyes, then sobers. She grabs my shirt when I’m close enough, fisting the fabric tightly.
“I’m mean to you because you tell me to be meaner.
Because you don’t assume I’ll be proper and polite and accommodating, like most people, and that’s really freeing.
And also because”—she bites her bottom lip—“you fluster me. I’m always …
aware of you, and it’s really distracting.
And confusing. I’ve been confused too. I’m—I—” She huffs a laugh.
“I can’t even think straight while you’re this close to me. ”
“You mean, all I had to do to avoid years of lectures was stand closer to you?”
She bites her lip again. Nods. “Basically.”
I grin. “You shouldn’t have told me that.” I reach out, running my thumb along the length of her jaw and then tracing her lower lip.
Her next exhale is a little unsteady. Her tongue darts out, mirroring the same path as my thumb.
My dick is inflating faster than a balloon. I press against her, letting her feel the hard bulge. Her breathing becomes even more erratic.
“You know that I think you’re brilliant and insightful and extraordinary, right?”
She blushes again. “Uh … thanks.”
“Those were facts, Florence. Not compliments.”
Her smile strengthens, losing former shyness. “I know.”
“Good.” I hoist her up and over my shoulder.
Rory says my name in what I think she intends to be a scolding tone. It’s hard to tell over the sound of her laughter.
“Because it’s about to seem like all I care about is your tight cunt.”
“Flynn”—she laughs again—“put me down.”
“No.” I swat her ass, then start walking toward the bedroom. Her bedroom. Our bedroom, I hope.
Only once we’re beside the bed do I set her down. I strip off my jacket first, followed by her stained blazer and blouse. The red wine soaked all the way through to her light-blue bra. I can see the residue on her chest too. Once I’ve undone the clasp of her bra, I lick it off her skin.
There’s no rebuke when she says my name now.
Rory moans it, her hands lifting to tangle in my hair before they slide lower and she starts to unbutton my shirt.
I unzip her skirt next, pausing to palm her ass before pulling the fabric lower.
Gravity does the rest, leaving her only in red-bottomed stilettos.
I nip her neck. Her nails scratch at my abs.
“I missed you.”
I smirk at her dazed expression. It’s only been three days since we last slept together. “You missed sex.”
“I missed sex with you. Meaning I missed you.”
I pull the elastic out of her hair, leaving the black band on my wrist. “I missed you too.”
“I was scared, Flynn. That’s why I announced our engagement. I needed to stop pretending I was pretending. I-I am scared.”
I tuck a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Of what?”
“Of us. Of loving you and it not working out.” Her expression turns sheepish. “I like guarantees.”
“I know you do. But you never know the verdict when you take a case. You give it everything you have, and that’s all you have control over.”
She smiles, running her hands up my chest and knotting them behind my neck. “That’s the thing. No matter how many reasonable arguments I have—you’re too good-looking, too cocky, too absurd, too brash, too—”
“Wow. You weren’t kidding about my lack of redeeming qualities.”
Rory laughs. Her tits move with the motion, so I get distracted for a few seconds.
“What I’m trying to say is … I love you, Flynn Parks.
You confuse me, too, because no matter how many times I told myself I hoped you wouldn’t be somewhere …
you were always the first person I looked for.
And you are the only person I would have agreed to fake date because I’ve wondered since high school what it would be like to be a girl you cared about impressing. ”
“Florence Kensington, you’re the only girl I’ve ever cared about impressing.”
She blinks rapidly a few times. I kiss her forehead. A line down her temple and across her cheek before landing on her lips.
Rory sucks hard on my tongue, making an impatient sound in the back of her throat.
She pushes my unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, then starts working on my belt.
I’m the one who groans eagerly when she fists my aching cock.
Her wrist rotates, and my eyes practically roll into the back of my skull.
“I want you to fuck me from behind,” she whispers.
“You sure?”
She nods. “It felt really good at the gala. And I’m”—she glances down at my swollen, leaking cock—“I’m going to come really fast.”
Rory sounds … not embarrassed, but self-conscious. A little apologetic.
“Good. I love knowing I can get you off so easily. It’s great for my fragile male ego.”
She snorts. “Fragile?” Looks down again. “It’s not like you’re overcompensating for anything.”
My smile is so wide that the stretch is straining my cheeks.
“You like that I’m this hard for you, right?” I cover her hand with mine, sliding it down to the base. “Feel that?”
“Y-yeah.” Her voice is breathy, her pupils dilated as they follow the movement.
I guide her hand lower, to the underside of my erection. “Feel that? Swollen and heavy, ready to pump you full?”
Rory’s fingers graze an extra sensitive spot, making my hips jerk.
Her lips part, nothing except a swear slipping out.
“That’s how I feel about you coming really fast, baby.”
“I was going to—” She stops talking abruptly, flushing again. It spreads down her neck and across her chest.
“Going to what?”
“I was—I was going to ask if you’d record something for me. Before we stopped doing this. For me to listen to when I, you know …”
“No, I don’t know. Can you be more specific?”
She makes that exasperated huffing sound that used to be her response to just about everything I said. It’s cute as fuck under current circumstances.
“You’re literally holding my dick, Florence. I think we’re well past the small talk and first-name-basis phase.”
“I told you I was uptight.” She drops her hand and crosses her arms. Only to remember she’s topless and realize that encourages a very distracting view, so she drops her arms to her sides.
“I don’t care that you have an aversion to the word masturbate. I care if you’re not comfortable discussing something with me.”
Rory laughs. “Not comfortable? I’m having a full conversation with you while I’m naked! There were, like, two times that I had sex with Carson when we weren’t under … sheets.” Her voice gets progressively quieter, immediate regret appearing in her expression.
“Yeah,” I state. “Maybe this isn’t the moment to share details about your ex—”
“I didn’t mean—”
I interrupt her interruption. “Not if you want to be able to walk tomorrow at least.”
Her mouth shuts, whatever else she was planning to say no longer rating as important.
I smirk. “I don’t give a shit what you did with him.
Actually, I do. The thought of another guy touching you seriously pisses me off.
It always has, which was another obvious-as-fuck sign I ignored.
If you want to record me saying how sexy you are”—I grasp her hip, then slide my hand around her thigh so the heel rubs against her soaked slit—“and how incredible it feels to be inside you bare and how you drench my dick, I will. I’ll do whatever you want.
So, ask me. Tell me. Say what’s going through that brilliant mind.
Let me in everywhere, not just this perfect pussy. ”
She nods rapidly.
“Bend over and let me see.”
Rory might like being in control, but she loves when I boss her around in bed.
She complies instantly, lying on her stomach on the mattress with her ass in the air, thighs spread so I can see between them.
I yank my pants and boxers the rest of the way down, then reach for her wrists, gathering them both in one hand while I admire the view.
“That’s my girl.”
She wriggles on the mattress, desperately seeking some friction. “Flynn.”
I thrust between her thighs a few times, smearing her arousal along the shaft. “You want this? It’s all yours, Florence.”