Page 88 of All That History
“Y’know, I missed this.”
I snorted.“Let me guess, you came all the way back home just to jerk me off.”
His hand shifted, fingertips digging under the waistband.“Something like that,” he agreed.
Lifting my hips, I pushed myself through his fist.“I prefer this hands-on version of you.”
“Me too,” he said, already leaning down.
His head was blocking my view; no way for me to prepare for his tongue lapping across me as though he was licking an ice cream.A firm grip holding me in place, even as I squirmed from the rush of near-overwhelming sensations.
“W-wait...”
No reaction to my shuddering protest, only that infernal rasp of his tongue.And then - just when I thought I maybe couldn’t take it any more, would have to drag him off me - Flynn slipped me between his lips.
I flung my arm across my mouth, choking back the hiss as he worked me with ruthless efficiency.Fighting the natural reaction to gasp, and squeal, and gurgle; resisting the urge to grab him by the hair and rescue myself from the unstinting pleasure that qualified as torment.
He pulled off me with an audible pop, fist stroking.When he sat up, twisting to sit cross-legged alongside me, Flynn’s smirk glistened.
“Take your jeans off.”
Clumsy obedience, not exactly helped by his insistence on toying with me while I attempted to strip.Fingers stroking and twisting around me, until - scowling at him - I flopped back, panting.
“What do you think the chances are, of your mom or dad knocking on the door while this is inside me?”Flynn grinned at me, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“There are probably safer places to do that.”
The boy I remembered, from our play as kids, saw danger as a challenge not a restraint.I was wary of making the possibility sound too tempting to resist.
“You’re probably right,” he agreed.
The gasp escaped me, loud until I muffled myself with my wrist, as he bent to my crotch again.Another full-body shudder, my legs kicking instinctively.
There was no stopping him, then.Mouth hungry on me, fiendishly determined.Only my teeth digging into the meat of my wrist, and the mortifying idea of my parents hearing me whimper through the closed door to keep me vaguely quiet.Not that Flynn seemed to find my squeaks and gurgles anything but encouraging.
From that, so quickly, to too much to resist.
Bucking and writhing, my body feeling like it was trying to turn itself inside-out.The texture of his mouth shifting; by the time he relented, released me and sat up, my cheeks were wet with tears.
“Tastes better without the mask,” he said, thoughtfully.
I thought my face would burn up from blushing, cheeks on fire.
He chuckled at my exhausted expression.“You look really cute right now.All limp and worn-out.”A sly glance down.“Well, not entirely limp, anyway.”
I twisted away from his fingers’ toying.Suddenly deeply self-conscious, as I reached for my underwear and jeans and yanked them up my legs.Heedless of their tangle, only of the need to cover myself as he watched me.
“If I promised to wake you up like that every morning,” he suggested, still grinning, “would you move to the city with me?”
“Maybe the fact that you treat it like a joke is why I don’t take you seriously,” I snapped.Knowing I was overreacting, reading too much into his teasing, and yet the feelings of vulnerability were making me spiky and defensive.
I didn’t get the angry response I expected, though.Instead, Flynn leaned down and - just as I braced for the kiss, for another attempt to steamroll my concerns with physical distraction - proceeded to wipe his mouth on my shirt.
He pushed himself up off the bed.Apparently unmoved by my indignant glare.
“I remember you trying to pick fights when we were kids,” he said, watching me.“And how it always seemed to coincide with the times you couldn’t handle something you had strong feelings about.So, forgive me if I take this particular example of Oli angst as a compliment.”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, momentarily lost for words.
