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Our rhythm is a dirty grind, slow and deep and unforgiving. Her nails dig into my ass through my suit pants and I don’t care if she rips the damn things to shreds.
As I fuck her, she presses her face to my chest, muffled pleasure sounds pushing me close and closer toward the edge. And it’s when she leans back, arching so I can see between us—the sight of my throbbing dick sliding in and out of that glistening pussy, that I know hanging on is not an option. Without taking her eyes off me, she reaches a hand down and circles herself, her swollen clit peeking out from its hood.
Her finger is a blur back and forth, around and around, and the second she breaks, so do I. I plunge deep, emptying myself inside her, and drawing her to me so close that I wonder if anything could possibly break us apart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Drew
FORTHENEXTforty-eight hours after possibly the hottest sex of my entire life, Flynn and I are almost joined at the hip...well, whenever he’s not at work. He works harder and has more conviction than anyone else I’ve ever known. But I’m happy to be a night owl, napping on his couch until he gets home while spending my days exhausted and blissed out.
We’ve talked over wine, over coffee, over ice cream. I’ve learned about his family, about the places he’s been in the world and the dreams he’d held dear as a child. And in turn, I’ve let him in by telling him about my life with Presley when we were kids—how my relationship with my mother is remote, how Vas totally broke me.
I trust him with it all.
For the sake of not trying to steal Presley and Mike’s thunder, we decide to keep our being together a secret. It’s a convenient excuse, really...because we don’t know how to label this thing. It walks a fine line between real and imagined, between meaningful and not.
I don’t know if I’m ready to hope again...
I twist the printout of my flight details in my hands. I’m due to leave the day after the wedding—what I’d thought would be not a moment too soon—for the sun and lushness of Fiji. I’ve been longing for a date with the sandy beaches and blue water and endless sunshine and fruity cocktails.
That means I have less than three days with Flynn.
You could cancel the flight. The apartment is free for another month.
My frienddidsay I could stay as long as I need to until she got back from her whirlwind European adventure. I could have more time with Flynn to decide how I feel. But I’m being forced to make the decision too soon—I’m not ready. I like him a lot, but I don’tknowin my gut what this is.
I thought I knew with Vas and now I don’t trust my instincts.
A sharp knock at the front door makes me leap out of my skin. Still unsure what to do, I fold the printout in half and toss it on my nightstand. It’s time for the rehearsal dinner—I’ve barely spoken to Presley since our argument. We’ve texted but I’ve been so wrapped up with Flynn, and I’ve been using our time as an excuse to not deal with the troubles between my sister and me.
But tonight I’ll clear the air.
I still think Mike is wrong for her, but Presley can make her own decisions and I’m going to support her. I’m going to give a great presentation and show her how much I care, even if I haven’t been around much in the past couple of years.
I will not let a man come between us.
I rush to the door, holding the length of my dress in one hand so I don’t trip. “Coming!”
When I yank the door open, Flynn’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “I was going to make a dirty joke about how I love when you scream that but...”
I blush. “But?”
“That dress is no laughing matter.” He pulls me toward him, bringing his lips down to mine, not caring that they’re covered in lip gloss. I melt into his kiss, my body lining his. Neither one of us care if the neighbours see. “You look incredible.”
“This old thing?” I try to shrug it off, but the compliment makes me feel like a million bucks.
I’ve ditched my usual denim and chunky boots for something a bit more sophisticated, but still me. The dress is fitted and made of inky black velvet that seems to shimmer and shift in the light. It wraps around my waist, and flares out over my nonexistent hips, faking an hourglass curve. A line of gothic-style black lace trims the hem and it gives me total Morticia Addams vibes, which I love.
It’s the dress I wear when I want to feel beautiful and powerful. It’s the dress I wore the night I told my ex I wouldn’t let him string me along and now I want to give it better memories. Happier memories.
“This old thing,” he mocks me. “Like you don’t know that every man you walk past tonight is going to end up with whiplash.”
I slide my hands into his, intertwining our fingers, and he looks at me with smouldering eyes. They promise me everything. Later, he’s going to slip this dress from my body and whisper things into my ear. He’s going to worship me, and I’ll do the same to him.
What he doesn’t know is that I have a special treat planned for him.
By the time we make it to the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner—which is some insanely exclusive place with low-hanging lights and gold-trimmed everything—we’re having a hard time keeping our hands to ourselves. As the maître d’ leads us through the private dining room at the back, I walk ahead of Flynn. His hand finds my ass and I shoot him a look over one shoulder. He’s unrepentant and I love it.
