Page 65 of The Challenger

He presses hot, open-mouth kisses to the soft skin of my neck, moving higher to skim my lips. “Flynn,” he murmurs, the sound so soft I barely hear it. “Can you take your panties off and lie on top of me?”

I swallow hard. His boldness never ceases to give me a thrill. “Leave my dress on?”

“For now.”

“What about you?”

He cups my breast, squeezing it. “This is all about the birthday girl. Don’t think I forgot."

I bite my lip and smile. “Then you should take them off.”

“You got a deal. But I need you to stand.”

He sits up and helps me to my feet, positioning me between his splayed legs. The sateen of his Dior shirt shimmers softly in the low light, and his eyes glow like he’s lit from within. His hands slide up my thighs, disappearing under the black silk of my dress. He presses his thumb pad against my clit, and a shuddering groan escapes my lips. My panties are drenched.

“I can smell you from here,” he whispers and slowly pulls my Hanky Pankys down the length of my legs. I slip out of my heels and kick them and the scrap of red silk to one side. He scoots higher onto the bed, his feet propelling him. I hike my dress to climb up and on top of his reclined body.

“No, no,” he says, stopping me before I straddle him. “Your back on my chest.”

“But ... how are we going to kiss?”

“We got lots of time for kissing.”

Chavez steadies me as I turn around, laughing softly at how uncoordinated I am in my drunken state. Positioned on top of him, but facing forward, I fall back until I can feel the beat of his heart against my spine.

“Lift your butt, beautiful,” he says and tugs the dress up to my belly button. His hands skim over my soft inner thighs, gently pressing them wider. My sensitive parts are slick as a spilled can of paint, and his finger wastes no time zeroing in.

“I love how responsive you are," he says, his voice like deep-amber honey. “It makes me crazy.”

My body feels wildly new every time he touches me—a pliable mess of clay ready for shaping. A slow hum builds in my clit and even though I can’t see him, I see him in my mind. He looked so handsome tonight in his suit and tie, and I forget about how exposed I am, forget almost to breathe.

“I respond to you,” I whisper back.

And he to me—hard and pulsing against my butt. His blatant joy in pleasuring me and how fevered he goes about it turns my arms into wet dishrags, flopping uselessly at my side. The muscles in my thighs melt and give out, splaying wider. Chavez buries his finger to the last knuckle into my wet welcome and fucks me hard and deep, curling two fingers and then three into a single pulsing demon. I feel the jolt of each stroke in my belly, hard questions demanding answers. His rhythm edges me close to the breaking point, and my fingers dig deep into his thighs with an aching cry.

“Fuck, Chavez. I’m going to come.”

He bites my neck hard, like a feeding vampire. “I want to eat you,” he says, his voice wavering and a little desperate. “Just to have you inside me.”

An unbearable tension funnels lower and heat brands the soles of my feet, curling them into tight half-moons. Dimly aware of the moonlight spilling through the window and a building crescendo of violins somewhere in the distance, I remember a thousand things I thought I had forgotten and then forget everything. Crests of violent rapture take over, and it feels like I'm hitting speed bumps at two hundred miles an hour. Flying and crashing, careening out of control.

He arches into me, moaning, and tangled in the agony of his release is the sound of my name and something else.

Something that sounds like love.

ChapterTwenty-Five

CHAVEZ

I rallied in Monaco.Or should I say, Flynn smacked some sense into my wallowing, pathetic self. I could be a ponce in a designer suit and wailing about the injustice of it all, or I could man up and make my dreams a reality. Fearlessness and victimhood do not go hand in hand. And she walked her talk—took the plunge, conquered her fears, and waltzed onto Morgan’s yacht, owning whatever came next. I sat inside with her while we cruised to our anchor point, and I made sure the pallor of her skin returned to normal before we dudes raced around on jet skis, leaving the ladies to the tan-and-talk scene. I’m digging Morgan, and yeah, there’s a bit of a bromance going on.

Vandana?

She will take a bit more work.

She reminds me of those stuck-up North Fresno girls who would never be caught dead with the likes of me. The look she gave Flynn last night before we left the restaurant had a hundred messages in it, all of them variations of,You can do better than this hot mess.I was like, thanks. Nothing better than kicking a man when he’s down.

On the walk back to our hotel, I had no clue where to even begin a sentence, I was so angry and pissed at myself for letting my temper run away again. For letting Flynn down. My failures hurt so badly, I literally shriveled up on the bed. But instead of taking my pussy behavior as a personal rejection, Flynn kept a calm head and made me consider an alternative that spiked fear in my heart. To rummage through the basement storage area of things too scary to think about.

---