Page 45 of The Freedom in Captivity

And then he crawls over me, his head right above mine. A slight adjustment and he’s pumping his finger into me to the point of near pain, but I won’t say anything. Won’t end the bliss.

“Tell me what I need to know, Rozelyn.”

Tell him what? He wants me to talk now. At a time where even my head can’t formulate a proper thought?

His lips are only a few inches from mine, and fuck, I want to kiss him. After all these years, I want that part of him. Now, before he ends this moment and returns me to the basement, and I possibly lose the chance.

There’s no ulterior motive, though I’m sure he’ll think there is. Just my own unbridled need.

Releasing the blanket, I grab his face and pull him down to mine, lifting at the same time, until we clash. At first, he freezes. Beneath my hands, he’s completely still, even the finger he has inside me, ending its torment.

When I move my mouth beneath his, encouraging him, I discover the Flynn Rhodes I once loved. He takes over the kiss, his hand looping around my throat to keep me pinned, his finger inside me picking up its torturous pace again. His tongue battles mine and in the silence of his bedroom, we share a moment similar to a cosmic supernova that leaves me panting and his cock hard: proof we both desire the same thing.

I feel the bubble inside me, the orgasm right on the edge, and it’s like he does too because he shatters the kiss but doesn’t move away. “Tell me what you know or you won’t come.”

“Now look…” I swallow against his palm, “…look who’s using sex to get ahead.”

Since I didn’t meet his challenge, he gives me a final meaningful look and slides his finger from me. A plea for him to not end this almost bursts from me, but I won’t let him defeat me in every possible way. Instead, I pant, my orgasm stolen from me as fast as it nearly hit.

He rears back, his gaze lingering on my lips, which feel puffy after that kiss. He brings his hand between us, showing me his finger, which is coated in the evidence of my betraying body.

And then he slips the digit in his mouth, sucking on it until his eyes brighten. Until, in a deadly tone, he says, “Neither of us can avoid this truth.”

“You’re an asshole, Flynn.”

“You’re a bitch who refuses to tell the truth, Rozelyn.”

He reaches between us again and, without warning, sinks the same finger deep inside me before pulling out once more, his digit coated again.

“Need proof of what your body craves? Maybe it’ll encourage you to open that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

My lips do part—to argue. But he pushes the tip of his finger into my mouth with a single demand.

“Lick.”

My tongue wraps the tip of his finger, tasting myself, eyes narrowing as he makes his useless point. Regardless, he pulls away with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Looking back, if there’s one thing I missed most, it’s that. Your taste. And how does one appease a craving? By having what they want.”

He shuffles down the bed and retrieves the knife from where he dropped it earlier. I can’t pinpoint when he stopped threatening me with it, too far gone in the sensations. He drags it along the inside of my left thigh, right where his fingers were. It passes over my centre and every muscle in my body tenses. He lightly circles my clit and that’s when I stop breathing altogether.

“You’re not gonna want to move for the next part.”

Resting the blade on the hood of my pussy as some sort of barrier, he lowers his head, his tongue dragging over my centre and it feels like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Like I’m no longerherewith Flynn.

His tongue begins at my core and ends with a flick of my clit before completing the circle again. By the third pass, the knife is a fact I no longer care about. He’s not injuring me with it, so it’s no real threat either. My entire focus is on his tongue and its unchoreographed dance. Up and down, he dips inside me for a second, but most of his focus is on that ball of nerves.

I don’t bother biting down on my noises. In fact, I want to be loud. To scream. To reveal to the other soldiers how Flynn desires his captive.

My hips roll, trying to chase the sensation, but with the pleasure comes pain.

When I lift myself into the blade.

Oh.

“You’re a dick.”

“I am,” he mumbles into my skin. “Move too much, that knife will cut.”

---