Page 25 of Whiskey Darling
“You’re fucking gorgeous when you come for me.”
The edges of his office sharpen into focus. I may have blacked out a little from the intense pleasure.I am in serious trouble here. Serious trouble. I’m not going to want him to stop. Ever.
“You’re so tight. Wet.” His fingers drag through my folds.
Yes, I am wet. I’m dripping for him, the evidence staining the inside of my thighs. Self-conscious, I move my legs closer together, but Flynn keeps me spread with just the slightest pressure of his hand.
He continues stroking until I relax in his arms. My surrender seems to please him, but a thread of agitation lurks in his demeanor.
“We’re not doing this here, Allie. Although I want nothing more than to spread you out on that goddamn bar in every imaginable position, I won’t.” His mouth closes over my nipple, still encased in my bra, and I cry out as he bites then sucks until the fabric is damp. The lace clings to my sensitive flesh, slightly irritating but arousing just the same.
“Flynn, please,” I plead like a junkie desperate for a hit, my heart racing from his filthy words.
He just laughs, teasing my opposite nipple until I am a quivering mess of sensations.
Then he eases away, and I watch, slightly horrified, when he licks his fingers clean of my essence. Eyes smoldering like pieces of dark coal, he pulls my skirt down, drawing the edges of the dress together and zipping it closed.
“Allie.” His fierce gaze is a direct contradiction with the softness of his words. “I’m ripping this dress off you when I get you home. Then I’m gonna find out if you grip my cock as tightly as you do my fingers.”
* * *
I don’t rememberthe ride to Flynn’s house.
I don’t know the route we take, if it is different from the one his driver uses or the same. I can’t say what music plays, or if any plays at all. I don’t even know the make and model of his car, just that it’s black, sleek, and the interior is buttery leather drenched in dazzling luxury.
What I do remember? Flynn’s hand resting lightly on my knee, climbing until his fingers grip my inner thigh with possessive intent. When I try closing them, his subtle encouragement makes me spread my legs even wider.
Between shifting gears, his hand ascends higher and higher until he is touching the bare skin of my sex. I shudder, allowing it because his touch is addictive and he seems obsessed with touching me.
“You’re so soft.” Gentle strokes accent his words while I thank God for my recent wax appointment. There’s not a hint of fuzz where his fingers glide. Just smooth skin and a sensitivity that drives me insane.
Flynn chuckles at my squirming. With his usual precise attention to detail, he keeps me on edge. Swirling and dipping, his fingers alternate between barely touching and lightly pinching my clit. He probably has this on a damned list somewhere.
Item number one in The Art of Seduction:
How to drive a girl mad with lust while operating a motor vehicle.
By the time we pull through the gates and into the half-moon drive of his house, I am frustrated, pre-orgasmic, and ready to beg that he fill me up. With something. Anything. I don’t care what.
Flynn drags me up the stone steps to the huge double glass doors, unlocking them with a code so there’s no fumbling with keys.
The instant we’re inside the marble and glass foyer, I’m whirled around. In a gesture of impatience, he takes my purse, tossing it aside.
Instinctively, my hands brace against the cool surface, my head bowing, breasts flattened against the wall. Flynn gathers my hair, pulling the thick bundle to the side. His lips explore the nape of my neck. He licks the exposed area, and I feel him grinning against my skin just before his teeth clamp down, marking me.
“Oh, God,” I moan, shuddering as his muscular body becomes a welcome weight heightening all my senses. One of his knees keeps my thighs spread apart. The simple barbarity of it makes my blood sing.
“Changed your mind yet, Allie?”
The whisper in my ear is accompanied by a little tug of my hair. It’s just enough to get my attention before it blissfully wanders off into some erotic zone I might never return from.
“Answer me, Darling,” he murmurs, one large hand moving under my dress to caress the bare skin of my buttocks. He squeezes me there, then works on maneuvering the garment’s hem up until I’m exposed from the waist down. “Answer me right now before I’m in too deep. Because I don’t think I can stop. I want you so badly I ache with it.”
“No,” I gasp, throwing my head back and arching my spine. My bottom grinds against his erection. If only he would move his fingers where I need them, down between my legs. Deep inside me. The throbbing there is almost unbearable. Searching for relief, I rock against him.
“I don’t want you to stop. Don’t you dare stop, Flynn.”
