The Pleasures of Summer (13 page)

‘Fuck me.’ Those words hit Flynn like a blow. He stiffened, all his defences down, and all his attention on the woman in his arms. She wasn’t the principal; she was Summer, the woman he wanted more than his next breath.

He had spent the last three hours obsessed with finding her safe and healthy, and when he did find her, his focus
was getting her out of
Noir
without a scene. During all that time, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of her as a desirable woman who drove him nuts. She was the principal, he was the minder and he was determined to keep it that way. Even seeing her in that excuse for a dress, one that showed every succulent curve in more detail than if she were naked, hadn’t derailed him completely. But those words, ‘I want you to fuck me’. That was all it took.

God help him, he was going to fuck her. Nothing would stop him now.

He shoved both hands into her hair, relishing the new smoothness of it, and held her head still while he took her mouth.

He had dreamt of kissing her, had awakened from sweaty dreams of her mouth. The reality surpassed all his expectations.

Summer’s lips were soft and parted sweetly for his tongue. As he plundered the softness of her mouth, she made a tiny noise at the back of her throat. It enflamed him. He pulled her tighter against him, impatient to feel every one of her curves. She fitted against him as if she had been made to his exact specifications.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He slanted his head and plunged deeply, tasting her and drinking in the essence of Summer. She moaned again and brushed her tongue tentatively against his. The touch was magic, easing something inside him that he wasn’t aware had been wound too tight, while sending all the blood in his head southwards. He thought his cock was hard before; now it was so rigid that only the feel of Summer’s soft stomach prevented it being painful.

He didn’t care. Kissing Summer could easily become an addiction. He shifted his feet, widening his stance so he could hold her more tightly, and kissed her again.

Her kiss was oddly tentative. For someone who was notorious for her sexual exploits and who had been plastered all over the tabloids at frequent intervals for the last five years, she was surprisingly hesitant. That in itself was an aphrodisiac to him. Flynn took charge, tilting her head back so he could ravish her mouth.

He could have kissed her for hours, undeterred by the rain pouring down on them, but when she raked her fingers down his back, he jerked against her and his cock grew more demanding. She wanted to be fucked? By god, he was the man to do it.

He grabbed the hem of her little latex dress, pulling it up, eager to get his hands on that world-class arse.

‘What the hell?’ He broke off to look at what she was wearing.

In a club where the women competed to prance around in the most minuscule thong, Summer had dressed in the opposite extreme. No teeny-weeny thong for her. Instead, she was wearing a garment that could only be described as big knickers. They were latex, true, but they were solid and high waisted.

‘You’re wearing granny pants?’

‘Oh!’ She wiggled, embarrassed, and in spite of his frustrations, he wanted to laugh. ‘My dress is so short; I didn’t want to flash by accident.’

‘The Bailey Lighthouse couldn’t flash in those things,’ he told her. ‘Even my cock wouldn’t get through them without bolt cutters.’

‘Hey!’ She punched him, right on top of the last surgery site. He winced. Usually her best punch would have been only a love tap to him, but that hurt.

She noticed and her expression changed. ‘Oh god, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s nothing. Come on, grab a helmet and I’ll take you somewhere dry where we can decant you from the granny pants.’

For once, she didn’t argue as he led her to the bike. He gave her a quick kiss before he pulled the helmet down over her head and adjusted it. God help him, he had to get her naked and underneath him soon or his dick would explode.

Judging from the way she wiggled on the seat behind him, and gripped him so tightly that he could feel her stiff nipples boring into his back, Summer felt the same.

There was no question of riding back to Hampstead. With the few functioning brain cells still in operation, Flynn remembered the Baker Street apartment Niall kept for guests and clients. He had the code. He’d take her there.

The scent of his leather jacket was an aphrodisiac she didn’t need. Summer was already unbearably aroused. The sting from the earlier punishment had turned into a luscious heat that made her wet and needy. She clung on tighter as Flynn drove through the rainy streets, staying within the speed limit, always watchful, always careful. But the tension in his shoulders and back betrayed him. Flynn was as taut as the string on a bow, ready to fire its arrow, and she had done this to him.

Her ass still burned from the spanking. She could still feel the tingling of her heated flesh. She had gone to the club to explore and Flynn had more than satisfied her curiosity. Her erotic romance novels were nothing like this. None of them had mentioned how the feelings of arousal and humiliation and pain could morph into searing lust. Her encounter with Flynn had shattered an emotional wall inside her, broken a dark taboo, and the evening wasn’t over yet.

Sliding her palm beneath his T-shirt, she stroked the planes of his abs. Flynn had a six-pack, maybe even an eight-pack. God, how could she have missed it? He muttered something then that sounded like, ‘Oh shit.’

Behind her helmet, Summer giggled. She was really going to do this. She was dizzy with excitement. She was going to make love to a man for the first time since Adam.
Summer waited for the stab of pain that usually accompanied his memory and was surprised to find that it was missing.

Flynn was determined to take every short cut that he knew. For her. He wanted her. They passed the tube station on Baker Street and after a short ride, Flynn pulled up and parked the bike. A discreet brass plate announced that they had reached the Granard Serviced Apartments.

Flynn dismounted. Taking off his helmet, he stowed it in the carrier before turning his attention to her. His warm fingers brushed her neck in a way that she knew was no accident. The memory of his kiss, of his hands and mouth on her skin, made her tingle. What would it be like to be with him?

He carefully removed her helmet and ruffled his fingers through her hair. ‘I like this. It’s more you, somehow.’

‘Thanks. Where are we? I mean, do you live here?’ She gestured to the building.

‘God no. It’s a company place. I use it sometimes when I’m on a job.’

On a job. Something about his words made her spirits plummet. She was a job. She was his employer and she had almost let him take her against a brick wall in a side street. Her heady sense of wonder evaporated.

‘Don’t,’ he said in a warning tone. ‘Don’t let your mind fuck up what your body wants.’

‘And what does my body want?’

‘Me,’ he said with total confidence. His heavy-lidded expression told her that it wasn’t an idle boast. There was no subterfuge with him. Flynn would say what he thought and take what he wanted.

‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re an arrogant bastard?’

‘I may be arrogant, but I’m usually right.’ His mouth quirked into a smile, softening his words.

Summer took a deep breath. She was going to do this. She climbed off the bike and adjusted her trench coat to cover the latex dress. No sense in announcing where she had come from. ‘Lead the way,’ she said.

He took her hand and they walked up the steps. Flynn punched in the code and they stepped into a marble-floored lobby. It was as luxurious as a boutique hotel. He entered another code to summon the lift.

‘It’s like Fort Knox,’ she whispered.

‘Fort Knox is a bit bigger.’

She didn’t want to know what he had been doing there. Knowing Flynn, it was something dangerous. The lift door closed and he punched the button for the penthouse. If he didn’t touch her soon she would burst into flames. Slowly, she unbuttoned her coat. The latex dress had moved again and it didn’t quite cover her breasts.

‘Don’t,’ he groaned, closing her coat again. ‘Watch out for the cameras. You’ve no idea what people get up to in lifts.’

‘Trying to protect my reputation?’ That would make a nice change. Usually guys couldn’t wait to run to the newspapers with an
I snogged Summer
story.

‘No, I’m trying to stop you giving the security guard a heart attack. Now, behave.’

‘Or what?’ She couldn’t resist challenging him. An aroused Flynn was something she wanted to see.

The look he gave her was frankly dangerous. ‘I can
think of a few things you might like and some things you won’t like at all.’

‘Such as?’

The bell announcing their arrival on the fifth floor saved him from replying. Grabbing her wrist, Flynn pulled her from the elevator and she stumbled alongside him as he strode for a door at the end of the hall.

Another code. The door swung open. ‘Inside.’ Flynn’s gruff command sent a shiver down her spine.

The apartment was large. She caught a glimpse of neutral walls decorated with original art. A pair of mocha-coloured couches looked inviting. The heat in Flynn’s expression was more inviting still.

Grasping the shoulders of her trench coat, he dragged it down her arms and let it drop to the floor. He captured her face between his palms and took a slow tentative taste of her mouth. God, he smelled good, like musk and leather and a faint hint of cologne. Summer traced a path along the seam of his lips with her tongue, pleased when he opened to her.

Her tongue delved into its hot depths, swirling against his. She could kiss him for hours. Maybe later. She had another goal in mind now. Desire coiled like a spring, sending out sharp darts of pleasure. Summer tangled her fingers in his hair and was rewarded with a muffled hiss. Months of loneliness and frustration rose to a steady boil. Flynn was in deep trouble. She only hoped that he was up to handling the accumulated hunger that was threatening to devour her.

His hands cupped her butt, dragging her against his hard length. She rubbed against him in a reprise of their
encounter on the street, enjoying the friction. This was better. Much, much better. But she wasn’t sure how long she could last. She wanted it hard and fast, but how to ask was beyond her. This was too new, too raw. ‘Flynn, I –’

‘No talking.’

Dragging her mouth away from his, she moved to explore his neck, savouring the salty taste of sweat on his skin. She nipped hard, drawing out another groan. With eager fingers, she pulled the cotton T-shirt free of his jeans and tugged at the zipper.

Flynn’s hand covered hers, squeezing lightly. Summer twisted and wrestled her hand away and Flynn hissed loudly as her arm came into contact with his ribs. Shocked, Summer stopped her attack. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Fine,’ he muttered. ‘Just a bit of post-op stuff. Nothing to worry about.’

‘Post op? What happened to you? Let me see.’ She reached for the hem of his T-shirt and yelped as her wrists were captured in one of his hands. Summer tugged hard, but she couldn’t move them. Flynn had a grip of iron.

‘I’m in charge.’

Their eyes held and a silent message passed between them. If she wanted him, it would be his way or not at all. She nodded her acceptance.

He bent his head and took her mouth, his kiss turning hot and open mouthed. Flynn’s tongue thrust against hers. Like sex, just like sex. She wanted to touch him, to rake his back with her nails, to feel his mouth and hands on her bare skin. ‘More,’ she pleaded.

He reached into his pocket and produced a Swiss army knife. The latex was no match for the sharpened blade.
With single-minded precision, Flynn sliced through the dress from top to bottom until it fell away, leaving her in nothing but heels and – oh no. She had forgotten about the granny knickers.

His fingers gripped the waistband and he yanked them down. When she was completely bare, the heat in his eyes intensified. His slid one long finger into her aching wetness and pumped slowly, watching her reaction through passion-filled eyes. She squirmed against his hand