Page 52 of The Freedom in Captivity

Hunger passes over his expression, and he grits, “What the fuck, Rozelyn?”

My fingers don’t stop pumping inside me, but they slow, in a teasing manner more for him than me. “You didn’t finish me when you had the chance, so before I’m stuck in chains, figured I would.”

“You deserve nothing less.”

Back on that, I see.His battle over what I ‘deserve.’ Over if my story is real or fake.

Wherever his mind is, I shove away everything logical in my head that demands my survival. Everything that says I return to treating Flynn like my captor. After we leave his bedroom, something feels like it’ll be over. As though leaving ends the progress I managed here today and I don’t want that.

Stupid, dumb—pick a term. Maybe it’s what I am. But I remove my fingers from my core and reach for him.

He shies away from my touch but doesn’t back away from the shower entirely. Instead, he reaches by me and turns the knob until the shower water fades into nothing. I’m left panting, the room’s cool air brushing every inch of me now.

Just when I think Flynn’s going to demand I dress and we leave, he hauls me from the shower, one large hand splayed on each side of my hips. Before my next breath, my back is shoved against the wall, his body pressing into mine, and his mouth stealing any possibility of air.

My legs wind his waist, which frees his hands to explore. He skirts them up my thighs, my side, until reaching my core. His thumb swipes through, gathering my wetness with a low groan.

“What were you thinking about in the shower?”

“You.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “What was I doing to you?”

“Eating me out again, and then fucking me.”

“Then let’s make it a reality.”

Without warning or preparation, he shoves two fingers inside my core, stretching me with a light moan. My head falls back against the wall, my legs tightening around his hips. He pumps his fingers slowly. Too slow. I won’t come like this. I arch my back off the wall, silently commanding him faster.

“This can end now, Rozelyn, or it doesn’t end at all.”

He’s offering me an out. A means to protect the precarious balance we’ve found ourselves in. Both of us wanting to connect with our past again, but neither of us willing to let go of our present realities.

“For now, nothing else matters,” is my response and I hope he understands the underlying meaning.For now, put the past aside.

Based on the noise from his throat, he gets my words.

He pulls his fingers from me and while I want to protest, he cups my ass and backs us out of the bathroom and toward his bed. By the time my back touches the mattress, his mouth is fused to mine again, his hands cupping my breasts, fingers tugging roughly on my nipples to the point of pain.

He’s not gentle but he is explosive. Flynn knows what I prefer.

I claw at his shoulders, yanking on his shirt and he pulls away only to tug it over his head, tossing it to the side before he’s also reaching for his pants. Nothing’s slow with Flynn, and it never has been. I’m no psychologist but I figured it out long ago. Flynn has so little positives in his life that he continuously grasps onto what is before he loses it.

He’s lost me once. And this moment is just that—a moment.

A moment we will both make worth it before we lose it.

His eyes pin mine as he undoes his jeans and that’s when I finally remember to breathe. When the realization hits that I get to see him—all of him—for the first time in over a decade. Hooking his fingers into his waistband, he pushes down his jeans.

Well, that’s new.

Thankfully, he doesn’t block my touch as I reach for him, my thumb stroking over the piece of silver in the tip of his cock. I rotate my thumb around it, slowly lifting my eyes to his, to ask my question.

I suppose more of a statement, given how my breathy words manage to get out. “This is new.” My mouth is parched, the urge to feel that piercing in every way growing stronger by the second.

Eyes on him, I wrap my hand around his cock and stroke him. He doesn’t stop me, merely stares down, watching me. His jaw is tense, but with every stroke of my hand, I shatter more and more of his resolve. Soon, his lips part the tiniest fraction, his breaths coming out a bit quicker than earlier.

“If not you, at least a part of you missed me.”

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