Page 62 of The Passion

“Fuck, baby, condom.” He stills me in one spot as he tries not to explode inside me.

“I want this, to mark you as mine. I trust you.”

“I’ve never been bare, not with anyone.” And even though he was trying to stop me from moving, when I rise up again, he lets me have what I want.

“Me neither.” Dropping down on him again, we are both looking deep into each other’s souls. “But I want this with you.”

“Oh God. Slay me, ride me hard.” And with his words, there is no holding back. My hands move to his chest, and as hard as I’m dropping onto him, Flynn is pounding hard up into me. My clit rubs on his body as I’m bouncing, and I know I’m already about to orgasm just as hard as before.

“Last chance to… stop,” he manages to say between his gritted teeth as my orgasm starts raging through my body, and I continue to ride it out as he finally lets go and fills me with a release that has him roaring my name loud enough for all of London to hear.

And in this moment, as I flop forward onto his chest, I feel like my life is perfect.

If only that were true.

I don’t know how long we napped for, but it was worth the rest to regain the energy needed for when Flynn took me to the shower to clean up, after he fucked me hard against the tiledwall. Not sure his brother will be happy about that, but it will be our little secret.

I’m now sitting on the couch in just my panties and Flynn’s white dress shirt that is like a dress on me. He is in the kitchen cooking me a late-night snack because we both have the munchies. I’m not even sure if he ate any dinner or just rushed here after his meeting, not prepared to wait another minute.

He is whipping up some special cheese toasties that are his secret recipe, he tells me. I have lived most of my life on chef-prepared food and nothing basic. And now that I know I have my very own chef, I want nothing but the simplest food because I know he is making it for me with all the care in the world. It gives it a whole different meaning. Apparently, he tells me I need to try Vegemite too. When I protested, saying everyone talks about how awful it is, he answered that I don’t know what it’s like until it is used like an Australian would make it. I have so much to learn about his life in Sydney. It wasn’t a life like he lives now, and that fascinates me more. I feel like they were the years that shaped who he is, deep inside.

“I’m warning you, the cheese will be hot, so be careful. I don’t want you to burn your tongue so you can’t taste these extraordinary world-exclusive specialty cheese toasties.” As he places the plate down on the table in front of me, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

“They smell amazing. But what is the secret ingredient?” I ask, picking one up off the plate and putting it back down as it’s too hot even to handle.

“Oh, please, a chef never reveals that. Trade secret.”

“I think I might know a thing or two I can use to get that out of you.” I start to laugh as he moves a bit closer on the couch.

“Sexual favors and bribes will get you everywhere in this relationship.” He kisses me on the cheek and then picks up his piece and bites straight into it.

“I thought you said they would be too hot,” I complain because I’m actually really hungry.

“Ah yes, but I have what they call a copper throat and can take it. Plus, I don’t want any chance of burning or scarring that throat of yours now that I know how talented it is. Purely selfish reasoning.”

“Flynn!” I yell as I slap his bare leg, as he is only wearing his boxer shorts. Which he only put on at my insistence that I thought it was rude to sit naked on his brother’s couch. Poor Forrest is going to need to deep clean this apartment by the time Flynn and his sexfest nights with me are finished with it.

My first bite has the liquid cheese oozing into my mouth with some kind of seasoning on it that I can’t work out, but he’s right. It’s better than any delicacy I have eaten before. It might be because it’s midnight and I would love anything that Flynn made for me right now. But I have to admit, it’s sensational.

“Well?” He is looking at me and waiting for my opinion.

“Um, they’re good but don’t beat my strawberries in chocolate sauce for comfort food.”

“Bullshit, and you know it.” He uses his finger to wipe up a string of cheese that is still hanging from the corner of my mouth.

“Wow, I can imagine how you treat the harsh food critics when they reviewed your restaurant in Sydney.”

I may have already googled where he and Nic worked as the head chefs, and it’s one of the best restaurants in the city. Not that I’m going to give him any credit for that.

“I never had to worry because Nic and I were the best. Not a bad review ever.” He sits here smugly eating through another sandwich, not prepared to hear anything I’m saying about his cheese toastie.

I don’t know if I ever remember seeing my mother and father sitting together like this. Not all dressed up in designer clothes,on a comfy couch or curled up watching a movie together. I remember my father always being at work, or if he was at home, in his office and only coming out for dinner which we always ate at the huge sixteen-seat table. So much of the furniture in the house were antiques that you weren’t allowed to sit on anyway.

If I ever have children, which is looking unlikely at the age of forty, but if I did, I would want them to see this. Their parents laughing together over the stupid quality of a cheese toastie.

I know I need to tell Flynn about tomorrow night, but I just don’t want to burst the perfect bubble we are in tonight.

Finishing my last bite and wiping my hands on the napkin, I curl up next to Flynn, and his arms fall naturally around me, pulling me even closer.

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