“Good, Flynn.”
“Harder, sweetheart. I need it rough.”
“Do you need me to pretend—”
“No,” he said. “Just hard and fast. I need it rough to get off.”
She tightened her fist and upped the pace.
“God, yeah. Just like that. Fuck… I want to watch. In the mirror.”
Laurel looked to the floor in front of the bed. The full-length was still leaning against the wall from the last time they’d used it. “Okay.”
She let his cock go and Flynn got up, grabbed the comforter and tossed it on the floor. They sat down side by side, Flynn’s thighs spread, inviting her hand. Two pairs of eyes watched the reflection as she resumed his torture with hard strokes. She rested her chin on his shoulder.
“You’re so big, Flynn.”
“Yeah.”
“Look at that thick cock.” She gave him slow, luxurious pulls, worshipping his length with a greedy hand. “I love it.”
“I love watching your hands on me. Wanna watch when you make me come.”
Even hotter than Flynn’s ready cock was his face. Laurel studied his tensed features, all the evidence of his excitement and desperation. His eyes looked unfocused, hungry lips parted, nostrils flared. He dragged a hand across his flushed chest, stroking his own skin, his ribs, his nipples, his neck.
She brought her lips right to his ear, made her voice sweetly evil. “You gonna come for me? Gonna let me see all that hot come shoot across that gorgeous stomach?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Oh good,” she whispered. “That’s what I fantasize about when I’m getting off, thinking about you.” She tightened her fist to hear his moan.
“Please.”
“Yeah, it’s your turn to beg now,” she said.
“Please. Make me come. Please.” His hand moved lower, covering her small one for a few thrusts before he cupped his balls, kneading as he came undone. “Fuck yes.”
“Good. Let me see.” She eased her pulls as he came, keeping her fist tight to milk every last drop, watching in the mirror as it lashed his skin and feeling the wet heat pour over her knuckles. Fever flooded her face and breasts and pussy and she bit her lip just to feel the tiny sting of pain.
Bossy Flynn returned after a few labored breaths. “Fuck yeah… Clean me up.”
Laurel relocated, getting to her knees between his legs, leaning in to lick the come from his skin and hers. His hand cupped the back of her head, warm and possessive.
He sighed, sounding tired in the best way. “You’re staying the night, right?”
Laurel straightened up, swallowed and nodded.
“Oh good. No way I can operate a car now,” he said.
They made it to their feet and he collapsed back across the bed. Laurel knelt next to him, dragging her fingers through her sex-tangled hair and staring down at the length of Flynn’s naked body. She’d miss this when their arrangement came to an end. She’d miss feeling like the temporary owner of this strong man, if only for an evening at a time. And she’d miss selfish things, like how easy it was for him to get her off. He was the best lover she’d had by miles and the pain that came with knowing she’d eventually lose that shifted Laurel’s mood again. Her armor didn’t snap on this time. Instead she felt as if her skin was falling away, leaving her a tangle of exposed nerves and brittle bones. She gazed out the tall front windows, wishing she wasn’t flooded with ridiculous, manipulative impulses, like the desire to suddenly decide to leave so Flynn would rush after her, try to talk her into staying. If he would. He might not.
“What’re you thinking about, sub shop girl?”
“Nothing.”
“There’s a vein ticcing in your neck.”
She turned to frown at him, hoping she looked bored and that the hurt didn’t show.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just not looking forward to work tomorrow.”
“Shit, I must be losing my touch if you’re already thinking about work two minutes after we stop fucking,” Flynn said.
She flopped back down against the mattress. “No, you’re still the best lay of my life.”
He clenched a triumphant fist in the air and they fell silent for a little while.
“Is it about what you said earlier?” he asked. “What you told me about your mom?”
“No.”
“You want me to not ask you if anything’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I’m just a bit off today.”
“Would you like me to compliment your taste in shoes or listen while you bitch about your female coworkers?” he teased.
“Fuck off.” Laurel pretended she was teasing back but rolled onto her side to stare at the wall, knowing her face was no good at keeping secrets. Flynn shifted a minute later, his hand closing around her arm, voice by her shoulder.
“Can I tell you something that really annoys me about you?” he asked.
Unseen, Laurel grimaced, utterly confused. “I guess so.”
He exhaled against her skin. “I really hate that you spent the time and money—well, the government’s money—to get a degree you don’t even want.”
Her body tensed. “I want my degree. I’m proud of my degree.”
“How come you’re wasting it then? Taking a shitty waitressing job away from some other college kid?”
Laurel felt a fever growing, hot and defensive. She opened her mouth to reply but Flynn went on.
“You know what I wanted to do when I was little, more than anything?”
“Grow up to be an engineer?” she asked, making her tone intentionally bitchy.
“Kind of. I wanted to build buildings. Not like I do now. Not hanging drywall or pouring foundations so I can end up with a bad back and no insurance when I’m fifty. Like be an architect or whatever. It pisses me off that you basically have that, and you’re shitting it away.”
“Engineering wasn’t what I’d expected.”
“And waitressing’s a beautiful fucking fantasy land?”
“I stopped after my mom died, okay?” She rolled onto her back and glared at him. “For the first time in my life I decided to stop working my ass off for other people and be fucking irresponsible for a change. Happy?”
“Maybe you got depressed, like her.”
She yanked her arm out from his grip. “Fuck you. I thought you hated analyzing people.”
“I hate being analyzed.”
“Then you must know how fucking annoying it is.” She propped herself up on an elbow and stared at him in the near-dark. “It’s none of your business what I do with my life.”
“It’s none of your business if I wear a mouth guard. But you’re right to be a naggy little bitch about it.”
“I’m sick of this conversation, Flynn.”
He made an innocent face. “You shouldn’t have said yes when I asked if you wanted to hear my opinion.”
“Like you really gave me a choice. Why did you even ask me that? What was that about?”
“I wanted to know what was up with you,” he said. “You went all quiet and it freaked me out. Usually when I make women go all quiet it’s a really horrible sign.”
“So you…you crammed your dirty fingers all inside my open wound, like I’m going to open up and cry about stuff if you antagonize me hard enough? Can’t you just respect that I don’t want to talk about it?”
“Sorry.” His jaw clenched and released a few times. “I just wanted you to say something and stop being all shut-down. I wanted to know if I upset you.”
“Well, that was a stupid fucking way to go about it.”
“Sorry… Would you like to tell me something about me that annoys the living fuck out of you then?”
She squinted at him, chewing her lip. “I think it’s really obnoxious that you never became what you wanted and you’re being a douche about it now, taking it out on me. In
bed.”
He nodded. “Good. We even now?”
“I also think it’s irritating that you treat me like your girlfriend sometimes, when I know I’m not.”
That shut him up. He didn’t reply and she could see the dark circles of his irises drift toward the wall—not eye-rolling, more like escape-route-plotting.
Laurel sighed, half sarcastic, half petulant.
“What do you
think
we are?” Flynn asked. His tone was odd, diplomatic and calm and unreadable. Laurel’s pulse ground to a halt.
“I didn’t think you did girlfriends,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I dunno. Because I’m not the only woman you’re banging, for starters. Or what if another willing woman came along? You said it’s hard to find people who’ll go there with you. Wouldn’t it…be a waste to let yourself get tied down, in case a new woman showed up?”
“Wouldn’t it be a waste to not try and stay with one I liked?” he asked.
She entertained a dozen images in five seconds—a smiling Flynn walking down the street toward her, sliding onto a barstool next to her, shaking hands with Anne. She shifted onto her side again, staring blankly at her hand against his sheets.
“What about Pam though?” she asked.
“I’m not seeing her anymore.”
Laurel shook her head. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m not. Not since Friday, before the last time you and me hung out.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, hard, choking on hope and disbelief. “How come?”
“We had a rough talk, at the fights. When I asked her to not come on Saturday. She wanted to know about you, and if we’d hooked up, and I gave her the gist and she flipped out on me.”
Laurel blinked, staring at her hands. “Shit.”
She felt him shrug. “I’d seen this coming awhile.”
“What did she say?”
“That’s her business.”
“Well, I’m stuck in the middle now, so make it mine too. I mean why on Earth did she ever invite me along then?” Laurel asked. “She made it seem like she was all in favor of you and me…you know.”
“She plays the part of the liberal free spirit real well. So well even
she
thinks she’s above sexual politics. Or that’s my take, for what it’s worth.”
“Oh.” Laurel breathed deeply for a couple minutes, turning it all over in her head. “That’s all well and good for your little boyfriend-girlfriend speech,” she said, “but I mean, would you have kept seeing her if she hadn’t freaked out?”
“Not if it seemed like you and me were turning into something. Not if you’d asked me not to.”
Laurel laughed, not convinced.
“You think I’m some sort of sex maniac, don’t you?” he asked, defensiveness sharpening his voice.
“No.”
“You think I don’t know how to date? You think the kind of sex I like is like some condition? Like a fucking dialysis machine I have to drag around behind me, making everything into a big fucking hassle?”
“Do you…what do you think of me as?” she asked.
“You’re the nice, smart, hot, funny woman I’m sleeping with. If that’s still true in a couple weeks, and maybe you throw in a night when we sleep together but don’t get around to fucking…yeah, I’d probably tell people you’re my girlfriend.”
“Oh.”
“You going to finally freak and run out the door? Let me know and I’ll get my shoes on and drive you.”
Laurel didn’t reply. As much as she liked Flynn, as much as she liked what he was saying, there’d been a safety to imagining he’d never entertain the idea of coupledom. Now she’d inevitably look at him differently and the whole ugly dynamic of who-likes-who-more would come into play. She didn’t want to wake up in a month and realize she cared more about him than he did her, that she might lose him. And she didn’t know if she was ready to have someone in her life who’d hold her to a higher standard than she’d been doing herself the last couple years.
His hot sigh warmed her neck. “What’re you thinking about, sub shop girl?”
“Nothing.” Tons.
“You know I said two weeks ago or whenever that if you came and watched me fight, and you still wanted to ask me out after that, you could. We’ve hooked up like three times since then and you still haven’t asked me out.”
“I thought the sex counted as dates.”
He made a little noise, a miniscule laugh. “Jesus. Just ask me to go out to dinner or something, somewhere besides here or the gym. Or if you don’t want to, tell me now so I know where I stand. I’m happy to be your fuckbuddy, Laurel, but I’m not afraid of getting attached to you either. I’m a pretty simple creature.”
She stared at the wall, unsure what to say or do or think.
“I’m not afraid of angry pricks kicking the shit out of me,” Flynn said. “And I’m not afraid of you.” His body shifted, breaking their damp, sticky bond and turning her on to her back. His hand held her jaw and a thumb stroked her cheek. Flynn brought his face down and kissed her mouth, slow and shallow.
Against the rush of her quickening breath and her pounding heart, Laurel formed words, sticky and fearful. “Would you like to get something to eat next week?”
He laughed and she could make out the shape of his smile. “Sure.”
“Wednesday? At six? Lucky’s, across from the Dunkin’ Donuts on Congress?”
“Sure,” he said again.
“And maybe afterward we could come back here and not have sex.”
“Sounds fucking sensational,” Flynn murmured, pulling her tight against him so she felt his hardening cock. “Can’t wait to not have sex with you.”
“Clearly.” She swallowed, wanting to embrace the fresh wave of excitement but still distracted by the gears ticking in her analytical brain.
“You got your force field switched on again,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“You said before you like how when we fuck, you don’t have to be in control of anything.”
She nodded.
“Let me give that to you again. Now. Let me be in charge.”
“Maybe.”
She sucked in a breath as his mouth closed over hers, a taste of that tempting offer. She shut off her mind, melted into what he was giving. Then a stray thought cut through the haze of arousal—a truce. She pulled her head back a couple inches to hold his gaze.
“If you start wearing a mouth guard, I’ll start looking for engineering jobs.”
His eyes jumped back and forth between hers. “Oh yeah? That a promise?”
“Yeah.” She ran her hands down his body, cupped her hand over his warm dick. She watched his face in the low light, loving that familiar glaze to his eyes, the heaviness in his lids. “Not, like, next week. But soon.”
“You keep busting my balls and I might just trick you into sticking around.”
She laughed, embarrassed and flattered. Relieved.