Chapter Five
Laurel laughed, relieved the night was still young. “What are you, some kind of sex-werewolf?”
He let out a heavy sigh, blinked a couple times and walked over, zipping his jeans and buckling his belt. “Here,” he said, putting out a hand. “Get up. Looks weird havin’ a topless girl on my floor when I’m not in barbarian mode.”
He helped her to standing and she dusted off her knees. “So. What do we do for twenty minutes?”
His hands went to Laurel’s jeans, undoing her button and zipper. She giggled.
He looked up. “What?”
“Sorry. I can’t get over how big your fingers are.”
He stared at them a moment.
“Not just your fingers, I mean. All of you.” She looked to his eyes, probably eight or nine inches above hers, and she wasn’t particularly short. “How tall are you?”
“Six-three-and-a-half.”
“Damn.”
He shrugged and turned back to her jeans, pushing them down her hips. He sucked in a soft breath.
It was her turn to ask, “What?”
“I dunno. Just your skin. You’re so…white.”
“One of my roommates calls me Ghostie.”
He shook his head. “You’re like that famous chick, what’s her name?”
Laurel knew exactly what name he was looking for but refused to supply it. Pale skin and red hair, but she lacked Nicole Kidman’s height and bone structure and glamour and didn’t feel like hearing their differences enumerated if Flynn made a project of comparing them.
“So what do we do now?” she asked again.
“You get in my bed and I figure a few things out about you before the beast returns. If you’re still in the mood.”
She kicked off her jeans with gusto and jogged to toss herself across his rumpled comforter. She listened to his laugh as she stared into the maze of pipes and vents traversing the ceiling, anticipating. His footsteps faded and the lights went out. More steps, and a dim reading lamp clamped to one of the bedside shelves flipped on. Flynn sat on the mattress, the heaviness of him thrilling Laurel deep down to her marrow.
“Lie on your side,” he said. “Away from me.”
She complied and he slid up behind her, pressing his bare chest into her back, pushing a hard thigh between her knees. He ran his warm palm up and down her hip and made a soft noise, a whisper crossed with a grunt. His hand slid up her ribs to cup her breast, the sensation tightening her legs around his.
“I wanna know what you like,” he said.
She realized that with his mouth this close and his tone hushed, the voice she’d found brash and a bit grating was actually rather sexy. She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m here because I want to see what it’s like to be with someone, you know…like you.”
“Have you thought about it? Since the last time you were here?” His fingers pinched her nipple gently, then meaner.
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it. A lot.” She’d gotten off about ten times in the last four days, imagining fucking Flynn. No, not fucking Flynn—being fucked by Flynn.
His hand moved down her belly to rest on her mound. “Tell me.”
Laurel hesitated. She’d always been lousy at dirty talk.
“Listen, kiddo,” he said. “I’m a selfish prick, and I want to be the greatest fuck of your life and ruin you for every man who comes after me. But I’m not a mind reader, so I need some help. Otherwise I could end up as the douchebag who’s got shitty taste in wine and totally traumatized you when you were thirty.”
“Twenty-nine.”
“So tell me,” he breathed, right behind her ear. “What do you want me to do to you?”
She took a deep breath, held it as his hand slid low, two fingers just barely pressing into her lips through her underwear. “I thought about everything you did with her. And wondered what it’d be like to do that with you.”
“What else?” Those fingers ran up and down her crease, flooding her sex with heat and pressure.
Confession became far easier.
“I thought about you making me get on my elbows and knees, on your floor, like you did to her.”
“Uh huh.” His touch intensified, his thigh pushing her knees wider as his fingers strained against the cotton.
“Except you tie my wrists,” she said. “And instead of telling me to keep my eyes on the floor, there’s, like, a mirror against the wall in front of me, so I have to watch you while you fuck me.” Her throat was tight, as tight as her pussy under his touch.
“And how do I fuck you?” he asked, voice turning harsh, hand slipping beneath her panties, tickling her hair before his fingers found her folds and banished all other thoughts and sensations. She moaned.
“Tell me how I fuck you.”
“Hard,” she managed. “And mean.”
“Am I forcing you?” Two fingers penetrated.
“Oh God.”
“Tell me. Do you want me to force you?” He pushed deeper.
“Yeah,” she said, barely able to form the syllable as he began to thrust.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered, sounding smug. “I can’t wait to ram my cock inside you. See your hot body below me as I take you.”
He fucked her fast, his slick fingers curled into a hook, the pad of his hand stroking her clit each time he withdrew. Against her ass she felt him growing hard. The buckle of his belt made her think of her hands bound again, fueling the fire. She groaned on each exhale, drunk from his touch and his smell, his voice. He was turning back into the other Flynn, just as he’d promised.
“You like that, don’t you?” She could hear his sneer. “Bet you wish that was my cock, don’t you?” His fingers fucked her hard for half a minute and she writhed against him, desperate. “You sucked me so good before. I loved watching you take every inch.”
“God, Flynn.”
His dick was stiff, as hard as it had been when she’d sucked him.
“You’ll say my name just like that when I make you come, bitch.”
Her breath hitched at the word but the intimidation wasn’t unwelcome.
“You want to live out that fantasy tonight?” His hips pumped, rubbing his erection against her bottom.
“I’m not sure.”
“We can do the training-wheels version.”
She gasped when he pulled away, turned her onto her back and knelt between her thighs, spreading them wide and bringing his groin to hers.
“I love your fantasy.” He stared down at her, fire in his eyes. He thrust his cock against her, the layers of fabric taunting. “I wanna watch you in that mirror, watching me. Close your eyes and think about it.”
She obeyed. His cock rubbed her pussy with hot, frustrating friction. Flynn’s face was fresh in her mind, that cruel smile, dark expression. Plus his bare body with all those strong muscles, flexing with each thrust…
She opened her eyes. “I want that.”
“Good.” He changed, suddenly businesslike. His hips stilled and he wedged a knee under hers to kneel wide before her, put a hand on each of her shins. “We’re gonna keep things pretty tame tonight. I won’t actually tie your hands, but you’re gonna pretend I do. And you’re gonna set the tone. You think you want to pretend I’m forcing you, you make it clear and I’ll play along. Okay?”
She nodded.
He slapped her calf. “Go make a trip to the ladies’ room if you need one, and I’ll get things set up. When you come back it’s game-on.”
“Okay.”
“What’s your safe word?”
“Michael.”
He slapped her calf again. “Good girl. And if for some reason you can’t say it and you need to, you grunt three times, fast, or hit your foot or your hand against something, three times. Got it?”
She nodded again.
He got his legs out from under hers and stood beside the bed. “Bring me back a towel. A big one.”
Laurel grabbed her purse and went to the bathroom, tidying her makeup for a couple minutes, the whirring fan drowning out whatever Flynn might be doing in the other room. When she emerged with a bath towel he was crouched by the open closet near the bed, a toolbox by his foot. He unscrewed the bottom of a full-length mirror from the door then stood and detached the top. He walked it to a bare stretch of wall and leaned it there. He took the towel from Laurel and lay it on the floor, clearly thinking her getting her knees and elbows savaged by the not-so-recently swept hardwood was too varsity for her first night.
Flynn straightened and the cold look on his face said the fantasy had begun. A chill trickled down Laurel’s spine as she stared into his narrowed eyes.
“Sit on the bed,” he said.
She hesitated—only for a second but it was enough to earn some correction. Flynn took her by the shoulders and forced her back a couple steps, pushing her onto the edge of the mattress beside a pair of wrapped condoms, a bottle of lube and a roll of duct tape. Being physically controlled by someone she knew she couldn’t ever hope to fight off was both arousing and terrifying. This man could actually rape her, if he was so inclined—he was physically capable of it. She felt her throat constrict as if a fist had closed around it.
“M-Michael.”
His posture transformed in an instant. He sat down next to her on the bed, hands clasped between his knees, wary eyes on her face. “Too rough?”
She gulped a breath. “I’m not sure. I think mostly I just wanted to test the safe word. I think I needed to know you’d stop, if I asked you to.”
“Always.”
Then Laurel did something that surprised even herself. She turned and put her palm to his jaw. She brought her face up and drew his down and kissed his mouth. A first-date, good-night kiss. No tongue, just lips finding their way for a few moments. His hand settled on her arm, patient and reassuring.
Laurel pulled away feeling safe, knowing she was calling the shots. Her relief morphed to curiosity as she stared at his naked chest and arms. Fuck, those arms.
“I’m ready,” she decided aloud. “You can do whatever you were planning on.” She squared her shoulders and looked expectant, as if he’d just pushed her down onto the bed. He licked his lips and nodded, seeming satisfied that she was back on board. He stood and put his knees between hers, a hand coming down to hold the back of her head.
“Take me out and get me hard.” Laurel’s new favorite order.
She undid his belt and fly, let his jeans drop to the ground. Cupping his bulge, she rubbed her thumbs across his ridge, feeling him go stiff. She stroked her hand up and down his length as he grew, measuring and anticipating.
A tiny pang of sadness struck, as she realized that the first time he penetrated her they wouldn’t be face-to-face. She’d miss out on that cautious, awe-filled, one-time-only moment between new lovers with this man.
Flynn eased his waistband over his straining cock and pushed his shorts down his thighs. His hand wrapped around hers as before, gripping to dictate her strokes.
“Yeah, good.” The weight returned to his voice. “Make it nice and big.” He wound her hair around his other hand, possessive.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, eyes on his swollen head above their two fists.
“Depends on if you cooperate or not. You gonna get on your hands and knees for me, girl?”
She glanced at the duct tape then nodded.
He let her go after a couple more strokes and she got to the ground, all fours on the towel, facing the mirror. Flynn kicked his pants and shorts away and grabbed the tape, kneeling behind her.
“Sit up,” he said.
She sat back on her haunches. She heard the rip of tape being yanked and detached, glanced over her shoulder to watch him folding the three-foot length in half the long way, closing the sticky side in on itself. He reached around her waist to press her wrists together, wrapping them with the tape, tucking the ends beneath her thumbs so the only things keeping her bound were her own fists. Staring down at her hands, Laurel thought it looked pretty damn convincing.
“Back on all fours.”
She settled on her knees and elbows, keeping the bindings tight. Strong hands yanked her underwear down her thighs and out from under her knees. A hungry noise rattled out of Flynn’s chest, the closest thing to a growl Laurel had ever heard a man make.
She watched his face in the mirror, his eyes cast down at her ass or her pussy, his ready cock just inches away. He reached for a condom, unwrapped it. As he rolled it on his other hand fucked her, fingers thrusting into her wet folds. She pushed her hips eagerly into the touch, watching his roped arms in the mirror, his flexing belly and tight chest. She’d never really prioritized a guy’s physique when choosing a lover before, but right now Laurel wished the whole world could see this man. Powerful—that was the only word for him. Then his eyes caught hers in the reflection and she forgot all about his body.
“Beg me,” he said, holding her gaze.
“Please, Flynn.”
“Please what?” He let his dick rest along the cleft of her ass as he grabbed her hip. He tugged her hard onto his fingers as his cock slid along her crack, balls bumping her. His fucking hand reached around to spear her from the front.
“Fuck me, Flynn. Please. I want you so bad.”
“I know you do. I can feel it.” The hand on her hip rose to come down with a slap. “You’re so tight and hot for me.”
“Please.”
“Or maybe you mean something else,” he said. His hips drew back and his fingers left her pussy. She felt them fan across her butt, his thumb slipping into her crack. The wet pad teased her hole. Trepidation tightened her body but with Flynn in control the nerves felt right. She gave herself over to whatever he wanted, trusting he’d sense her boundaries.
His patient voice returned for a moment. “Breathe, sweetheart.”
She exhaled, pushing the anxiety out of her lungs. His thumb rubbed in a tight circle.
“Again,” he said.
She pushed out another deep breath and he pressed his thumb inside. Laurel swallowed and winced, accepting the violation, trying to welcome the sensation. Still not her favorite thing, but with Flynn she didn’t feel pressured or coerced, cajoled. He was simply dirty, ready to take, seemingly without permission. For some odd reason it made Laurel trust him more than any boyfriend who’d ever tried to win her over by detailing the many spurious virtues of taking it up the ass.
“Good.” He pushed his thumb in a little deeper, gave her a few slow, short thrusts. “Good. We’ll get you there sometime, but probably not too soon. Not ’til you’re begging me for it.”
A wave of relief engulfed her as he eased his thumb out and took hold of her hip. She felt the tip of his cock tease her lips.
“Please, Flynn.”
She watched his reflection. His mouth was open, eyes on the juncture of their bodies. His broad chest rose and fell, deep and steady. He pushed in, the penetration explicit in its slowness.
Laurel moaned. “Oh God.”
He was big, seeming even bigger now that his matching frame wasn’t distorting the scale of things. In the mirror his entire body looked tight and strained, his face harsh. He eased in another inch, the thick, powerful feel of him making Laurel drunk.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
“More,” she whispered.
He grunted, pushed, gave her another couple inches.
“Don’t stop, Flynn.”
“Yeah.” He eased out, pushed back in, over and over until he had her filled. As good as his arms and abs looked in the mirror, she wished she could see his cock, his ass, his back muscles. He gave a few long thrusts, all the way in, nearly all the way out, making her feel every slick, hard inch as it slid deep and withdrew.
“Tight and deep,” he said through a labored breath. He sped up, setting an even pace, hands stroking her ass and thighs as his hips found their rhythm.
She craned her neck to meet his eyes, unreflected. “Flynn.”
“God, I love your cunt. You’re so fuckin’ hot.” One hand left her flank to reach around and tease her pussy and he brought his thumb back to her ass, slick. He slid it inside, rougher than before, the feeling intensified tenfold by the thrust of his cock.
“Oh God.”
“That’s right.” He pushed the digit in deep and kept it there as his cock pounded. “I’d fuck your mouth too, if I could.”
Laurel turned back to the mirror, adrenaline whirling through her body, making her feel crazed and unafraid. She clenched her thumbs tight around the tape and thrashed her hips.
Flynn missed a beat but started right back up, harder than before. “You keep still.”
Laurel moved again, walking a knee forward only to get yanked back.
“I said don’t fucking move,” he warned, cold eyes trained on her face in the mirror.
She let the feelings crash over her, fear and excitement heating her from the inside out, the chemical rush in her brain compounding it all, getting her high. She struggled again, this time trying to break away for real, needing to feel how easy it was for him to stop her. Both his hands shot forward as he leaned over her, grabbed her behind the elbows and folded her arms up beneath her, her shoulders and head coming down, chin landing just above her bound fists with a soft thump against the towel. He pushed down on her back, pinning her as the fucking turned harsh, each impact punctuated by the slap of his damp skin against hers. Laurel turned her head, willing to put up with the uncomfortable position if it meant she could see his face. She saw control in his eyes, cool beside the hot flush of his skin.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“Shut up.”
She moved the only bit of herself she had power over—her legs.
“Don’t make this hard,” he warned, keeping her in place with his weight.
She gave a desperate thrash and his hands left her back. He shoved her knees together and widened his stance, clamping his thighs beside hers and locking them. She had a second to put up a fight with her bound arms before he pinned them down again.
“Now you’re gonna get it,” he said.
Laurel made a fearful, breathy noise and was rewarded with a few violent thrusts. “Stop,” she panted. “Please.”
“I said shut up.”
“Please, stop.”
“Fine. Gets me hot when you beg, anyway.”
She alternated pleading with helpless noises, the role-playing arousing her more than she’d imagined possible. Flynn felt godlike behind her, insanely strong and powerful. His dick drove deep, over and over, the heat built with every excruciating minute, sweat making their skin slippery, exertion changing his breathing and voice and rhythm.
“God, yeah. I can’t wait to shoot in you, bitch.”
Laurel sensed him getting close. Her own body was as tight as she’d ever been without touching herself. The sensation was maddening but ecstatic and the second he let her go she was going to get a hand free and tease herself over the edge.
She made a couple useless attempts at struggling, too excited by his arousal now to put on a good show. One of Flynn’s hands left her back, his damp palm sliding across her stomach, fingers finding her clit. She bucked and yelped at the contact.
“Yeah, that’s right. I knew you loved it.” He fucked her fast, rubbed her clit and drew all the heat of her body into a pounding, swirling mass against the pads of his fingers.
“God, Flynn.”
“Good. Come for me. Come all over that big dick I’m fucking you with.”
She groaned as the climax rose, the sweet burn tingling up her thighs and bursting open against his fingers, around his cock.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He pounded her deep and fast as the orgasm tossed her, teased her clit lighter and lighter as her cries died away.
“Good girl.”
To her surprise, he let her go. His thrusts stopped and his hands left her. He stood. “Can you get up?”
Laurel oozed out a delirious breath and rocked back onto her knees, registering the crick in her neck and the blood pooling in her fingers. She opened her hands and the tape fell away. Flynn helped her to her feet and she looked to him for instruction.
“Wanna lie down? On the bed?”
“Sure.” She sat on the mattress and shimmied herself into the center on her back. Flynn climbed on after her and got his knees between hers.
“Feel okay? Not too roughed up for me to finish?”
“Oh,” she said, “you better fucking finish.”
His brows rose. “Guess that’s a yes.”
“I want to see you come,” she said, all the urgent desire from before her climax bubbling right back up.
Flynn angled his cock between her thighs and she watched as he drove inside, slow, filling her.
“God, you’re big.”
“That what you like?” he asked, starting to fuck.
“I guess I do.” She reached down to circle her thumb and finger around him, squeezing to feel how stiff and thick he was. “And you’re so hard.”
“You can have this big, hard cock anytime you want,” he promised, hips hammering fast. “Say my name.”
She did. She said it again and again as he drove himself to the edge. She took in the strong arms locked at her sides, his slick chest, his face as he lost control.
“Fuck, yeah.” He yanked himself out, leaning back to strip off the condom and jerk himself home with a rough fist. He came hard with a strangled noise, come lashing her belly in warm ribbons until the aggression waned, fading like a plume of smoke.
“Fuck.” He composed himself a moment, panting, then left the bed to grab the towel so he could wipe Laurel’s skin. He tossed it aside and collapsed onto his back next to her.
She listened to his racing breaths. “Wow.”
Flynn laughed, the sound turning into a brief coughing fit. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “Wow.” He folded his arms under his head and Laurel did the same and they both stared up at the vents.
At length, she turned to study his face. “So I did okay for my inaugural night?”
He returned the scrutiny. “Yeah, that was fantastic. You liked it then?”
She nodded.
“Good. I hope you’ll give me a call sometime.”
Laurel decided she rather liked Flynn’s unambiguous style of flirting. “And what you said before—it’s still okay if I crash here? My legs feel like their bones fell out.”
“Sure. Just be prepared to get up real early. I can run you back home before I start work.”
“You can just dump me at the nearest T stop.”
“You live ten minutes’ drive from my site, dummy. I’m not making you take the subway. Damn thing’s always derailing and catching fire anyhow.”
“Fine then.” She yawned deeply. It was probably only nine but she felt as if she’d been up all night. “I don’t suppose I could borrow a T-shirt to sleep in?”
“Course. Just gimme a minute to recover.”
She studied his face. “You know, you’re really a very nice man.”
He laughed. “That orgasm must have fucked you up in the head.”
Laurel smiled. She was mindful to obey his non-cuddling rule but inched her top half over a little so their shoulders touched. She felt sleep drawing its cloudy veil over her brain. “Thanks.”
“What for?”
“The fucking,” she said through a yawn.
“You’re welcome.”
She closed her eyes and breathed him in, the musky smell of their sex and the subtler ones of his apartment and sheets. “I’m definitely going to call you,” she murmured.
“Good. I hope you do.”
“Definitely,” she said again, dreamy. She felt Flynn leave the bed, heard a drawer scrape open, then cool cotton flopped over her arm and breast.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said. “Looks like you’ll be out cold when I get back.”
“I wouldn’t put it past me.”
He wandered off and Laurel heard the fan kick on in the bathroom. She managed to fumble into the shirt and under his covers. His sheets smelled of him, and Christ it was heavenly. She had just enough clarity leftover to think of something that intimidated her more than anything else Flynn had offered tonight.
I like him.
She liked him enough that knowing he could be with another woman tomorrow would sting if she let it.
But right now, he was hers. Until he dropped her at her door the next morning, she was the only one who got him. She smiled into one of his threadbare pillowcases and let the smug comfort of the thought carry her into sleep.
Tonight he was hers. Tomorrow could go fuck itself.