4. Faye #2
He groans, his hands tightening on my hips. "Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Taking my cock so well. Taking every inch like you were made for me."
I whimper, my body tightening around him. His thrusts are slow at first, deep and deliberate, but then he picks up the pace, his hips snapping against mine. I cry out, my back arching, my body meeting his thrust for thrust.
His mouth finds mine, his tongue tangling with mine as he fucks me, his cock hitting that spot inside me that makes my vision white out. I moan into the kiss, my body trembling, my orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly.
"Flynn," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm close. Please."
"Come for me," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Come on my cock. Milk my cum from me."
His words send me over the edge. I cry out, my body convulsing around him, my walls clenching tight as pleasure crashes over me. He groans, his hips snapping forward one last time, his cock pulsing inside me as he comes, his hot seed filling me.
I whimper, my body trembling, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He collapses on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his breath hot against my neck.
"Fuck, Faye," he murmurs, his voice rough. "You're perfect. So fucking perfect."
I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, my body still humming with aftershocks. His cock twitches inside me, and I whimper, my walls clenching around him.
He groans, his lips brushing my ear. "So greedy. Already wanting more."
I whimper, my hips lifting, seeking more of him. He chuckles, his hands sliding under my ass, lifting me, his cock sliding deeper.
"Again?" he murmurs, his voice dark with promise. "You want me to breed you again?"
I nod, my lips parting on a moan. "Yes. Please, Flynn. Again."
The morning sun spills through the kitchen windows, warm and golden, as I slide a plate of scrambled eggs and toast across the counter. Flynn's gaze lifts from his coffee, those sharp amber eyes tracking the movement of my hands before flicking up to meet mine.
"You made breakfast," he says, voice low.
I shrug, trying to play it off. "Figured I'd save you the trouble."
His lips twitch, just barely, but it's enough. "Sit. Eat with me."
I don't argue. Not this time. My stomach growls as I pull out the stool beside him, the scent of buttered toast and coffee filling the space between us. I take a bite, chewing slowly, aware of the way his gaze lingers on my mouth.
"You're doing good, Faye," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Not skipping meals. Not working yourself into the ground."
I swallow, my fingers tightening around the fork. "I'm trying."
He exhales, long and slow, like he's weighing his words. "Once or twice isn't enough. You have to keep doing it."
I glare at him, but there's no heat in it. Not really. "I will."
His hand slides over mine, calloused fingers wrapping around my wrist. "Prove it."
I freeze. The weight of his touch sends a jolt through me, heat pooling low in my belly. I force myself to meet his gaze. "I don't need to prove anything to you."
His thumb brushes over my pulse point, slow, deliberate. "Yes, you do."
I yank my hand back, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he leans in, his breath warm against my ear. "Show me you can take care of yourself. Every meal. Every break. Every damn night, you're in bed at a decent hour."
I shiver, my body betraying me. "And if I don't?"
His grip tightens, just enough to make me gasp. "Then I'll have to punish you again."
A flush creeps up my neck. I know exactly what that means. The memory of his hands on me, his mouth, his cock… it all floods back, and I shift in my seat, my thighs pressing together.
Flynn's nostrils flare, like he can smell my arousal. His voice drops, rough and dark. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"
I don't answer. I don't have to.
His free hand slides up my thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Tell me, princess. Do you want me to punish you?"
I bite my lip, my breath hitching. "No."
His chuckle is low, dangerous. "Are you sure?"
I glare at him, but my body is already melting, already craving the weight of him, the way he takes control. "Yes."
His fingers tighten, his grip possessive. "I won't. As long as you eat. Take your breaks. And when I come to your room tonight, you'd better be asleep."
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering. "And if I'm not?"
His mouth curls into a smirk. "Then I'll have to help you fall asleep. I can make you so tired you'll knock out."
The vineyard stretches out before me, rows of vines heavy with ripening grapes. The sun beats down, but I don't mind. I've got a water bottle in my bag, a hat on my head, and a determination burning in my chest.
Flynn's watching. I can feel it.
I take a sip of water, wiping the sweat from my brow before bending to check the clusters. The grapes are plump, sweet, almost ready. My fingers brush over them, gentle, reverent.
A shadow falls over me.
I don't look up. "You're blocking my light."
His shoes come into view, scuffed and dusty. "You're supposed to be taking a break."
I straighten, stretching my back. "I just did."
His gaze flicks to the water bottle in my hand, then back to my face. "When?"
I roll my eyes. "I'm hydrating. That's a break."
His jaw tightens. "Faye."
I sigh, capping the bottle. "Fine. I'll sit down."
I drop onto the grass, leaning back on my elbows. Flynn doesn't move, his towering frame casting me in shadow. I tilt my head back, squinting up at him. "Happy?"
His eyes rake over me, lingering on the way my shirt clings to my sweat-dampened skin. "Not even close."
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "What do you want from me?"
His voice drops, rough and low. "Everything."
I shiver, despite the heat. "You can't have that."
His hand shoots out, gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
I jerk back, but he doesn't let go. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, slow, possessive. "You're mine, Faye. Every breath, every fucking heartbeat. Mine."
I should argue. I should push him away. But my body betrays me, leaning into his touch, my lips parting on a whimper.
His eyes darken. "Say it."
I shake my head, but the words spill out anyway. "Yours."
His grip tightens, just for a second, before he releases me, stepping back. "Good."
I exhale, my heart pounding. "That's it? No punishment?"
His smirk is slow, dangerous. "Do you want one?"
I shake my head, and he stands up.
I should be relieved. But all I feel is disappointment.
And that's the problem.
I suddenly want his punishments.
I crave them.
And that terrifies me.