The Fling--A Scorching Hot Romance

by Stefanie London

  She reaches for my belt, her deft fingers pulling leather through metal, and with the soft sound of a zipper being lowered, her palm is wrapped around me. I’m so hard it’s like I haven’t come in a decade.

  She takes her thumb and rubs it over the pearly liquid beading at the tip of my cock. I stifle a moan—maybe I should have saved the tie for myself.

  “You want to be fucked, Drew?” I whisper in her ear. I’m letting go of her nickname now, because Blondie is a figment of my imagination. And I won’t let her hide behind nicknames.

  She nods and makes a muffled sound of encouragement. Her hand tightens around my cock, stroking me harder. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen—her legs spread, pussy on display, laid out like a feast over my smooth pine desk. Just the thought of her walking here from 21 Love Street, bare beneath her clothes, one gust of a breeze away from showing the world what she was bringing to me...

  I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.

  “I don’t have a condom.” Of course I don’t keep one in my desk...why would I?

  Her eyes drop down to my cock, and then back up to me. She looks so disappointed it’s almost comical.

  “I’m clean, though. I get checked and it’s been so long...” And I’ve always been a safe sex kinda guy—goes with the rest of my control freak personality.

  She tries to speak, but it comes out a muffled, jumbled mess. So I hook my finger into the tie keeping her mute and pull it down to her chin. “I am, too. I’m on the pill and I’ve always used protection. After the last...shitstorm, I made sure I got checked out.”

  The statement punches me in the gut. So not only was the guy a dick, but he was sleeping around on her?

  “I won’t ever do that to you,” I promise, bringing my mouth down to hers. She moans softly into the kiss and pulls me closer.

  “I want to feel you, Flynn. All of you.”

  I pull the tie up so she’s gagged again and I slide my arms around her back, dragging her to the edge of the desk. For a moment, I get a flash of guilt that I’m supposed to be working, but I can’t force myself away from Drew. I can’t resist her.

  The head of my cock rubs against her, and she’s soaking. I glide through her sex, coating myself in her and she moans, though it’s muffled by her gag. Her hands curl into my shirt and her head rolls back.

  How did I stumble across this goddess?

  The feel of being bare with her is incredible, and I want to drown in it. I slide back and forth, rubbing myself through those slick folds without giving either one of us what we want. She squirms against me, tilting her hips to try to encourage me to plunge deep. But I hold myself back for a moment, enough to have us balancing on the edge of something incredible.

  The head of my cock bumps her clit with each stroke and she’s panting, her eyes wide and pleading and face tilted up to me like I’m a god. That’s the biggest lie of it all—because she’s the one with the power. She’s the one who can bring me to my knees.

  I grind against her, holding her hips in place so I can torture us both.

  “Fphhrn prrrss.” Her lashes are fluttering, her eyes rolling back. “Awwmmmgddd.”

  Then she’s quaking. Splintering. Shuddering and gasping behind her gag. I reach down between us and find her clit with my fingers, rubbing around and around, taking her pleasure and forcing it to a head. There’s a rush of moisture at her entrance and I push in at that moment, while she’s still pulsing.

  It feels like heaven and I almost explode on the spot. But I don’t know how much time I have with Drew—even if I know I want whatever she’ll give. More than she’ll give. I push all the way inside her until I bottom out.

  Our rhythm is a dirty grind, slow and deep and unforgiving. Her nails dig into my ass through my suit pants and I don’t care if she rips the damn things to shreds.

  As I fuck her, she presses her face to my chest, muffled pleasure sounds pushing me close and closer toward the edge. And it’s when she leans back, arching so I can see between us—the sight of my throbbing dick sliding in and out of that glistening pussy, that I know hanging on is not an option. Without taking her eyes off me, she reaches a hand down and circles herself, her swollen clit peeking out from its hood.

  Her finger is a blur back and forth, around and around, and the second she breaks, so do I. I plunge deep, emptying myself inside her, and drawing her to me so close that I wonder if anything could possibly break us apart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Drew

  FOR THE NEXT forty-eight hours after possibly the hottest sex of my entire life, Flynn and I are almost joined at the hip...well, whenever he’s not at work. He works harder and has more conviction than anyone else I’ve ever known. But I’m happy to be a night owl, napping on his couch until he gets home while spending my days exhausted and blissed out.

  We’ve talked over wine, over coffee, over ice cream. I’ve learned about his family, about the places he’s been in the world and the dreams he’d held dear as a child. And in turn, I’ve let him in by telling him about my life with Presley when we were kids—how my relationship with my mother is remote, how Vas totally broke me.

  I trust him with it all.

  For the sake of not trying to steal Presley and Mike’s thunder, we decide to keep our being together a secret. It’s a convenient excuse, really...because we don’t know how to label this thing. It walks a fine line between real and imagined, between meaningful and not.

  I don’t know if I’m ready to hope again...

  I twist the printout of my flight details in my hands. I’m due to leave the day after the wedding—what I’d thought would be not a moment too soon—for the sun and lushness of Fiji. I’ve been longing for a date with the sandy beaches and blue water and endless sunshine and fruity cocktails.

  That means I have less than three days with Flynn.

  You could cancel the flight. The apartment is free for another month.

  My friend did say I could stay as long as I need to until she got back from her whirlwind European adventure. I could have more time with Flynn to decide how I feel. But I’m being forced to make the decision too soon—I’m not ready. I like him a lot, but I don’t know in my gut what this is.

  I thought I knew with Vas and now I don’t trust my instincts.

  A sharp knock at the front door makes me leap out of my skin. Still unsure what to do, I fold the printout in half and toss it on my nightstand. It’s time for the rehearsal dinner—I’ve barely spoken to Presley since our argument. We’ve texted but I’ve been so wrapped up with Flynn, and I’ve been using our time as an excuse to not deal with the troubles between my sister and me.

  But tonight I’ll clear the air.

  I still think Mike is wrong for her, but Presley can make her own decisions and I’m going to support her. I’m going to give a great presentation and show her how much I care, even if I haven’t been around much in the past couple of years.

  I will not let a man come between us.

  I rush to the door, holding the length of my dress in one hand so I don’t trip. “Coming!”

  When I yank the door open, Flynn’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “I was going to make a dirty joke about how I love when you scream that but...”

  I blush. “But?”

  “That dress is no laughing matter.” He pulls me toward him, bringing his lips down to mine, not caring that they’re covered in lip gloss. I melt into his kiss, my body lining his. Neither one of us care if the neighbours see. “You look incredible.”

  “This old thing?” I try to shrug it off, but the compliment makes me feel like a million bucks.

  I’ve ditched my usual denim and chunky boots for something a bit more sophisticated, but still me. The dress is fitted and made of inky black velvet that seems to shimmer and shift in the light. It wraps around my waist, and flares out over my no
nexistent hips, faking an hourglass curve. A line of gothic-style black lace trims the hem and it gives me total Morticia Addams vibes, which I love.

  It’s the dress I wear when I want to feel beautiful and powerful. It’s the dress I wore the night I told my ex I wouldn’t let him string me along and now I want to give it better memories. Happier memories.

  “This old thing,” he mocks me. “Like you don’t know that every man you walk past tonight is going to end up with whiplash.”

  I slide my hands into his, intertwining our fingers, and he looks at me with smouldering eyes. They promise me everything. Later, he’s going to slip this dress from my body and whisper things into my ear. He’s going to worship me, and I’ll do the same to him.

  What he doesn’t know is that I have a special treat planned for him.

  By the time we make it to the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner—which is some insanely exclusive place with low-hanging lights and gold-trimmed everything—we’re having a hard time keeping our hands to ourselves. As the maître d’ leads us through the private dining room at the back, I walk ahead of Flynn. His hand finds my ass and I shoot him a look over one shoulder. He’s unrepentant and I love it.

  How are we going to get through the dinner tonight without giving our secret up?

  Halfway through the night, it’s time for our presentation. Flynn and I stand at the front of the room, trying not to look at one another lest we give the game away. We’ve got a portable projector that displays the images we chose onto the wall behind us—including the one of Presley and I with our faces covered in cake and buttercream.

  “Having a twin is a complicated thing,” I say. “It’s impossible for people not to compare you and when your twin is the girl who could do it all...”

  Presley watches me, a little wrinkle between her brows. Tonight she’s wearing a silky dress in pale gold, with her hair in big, bouncy curls. But she looks at me like no one else in the room matters. She only wants to hear what I have to say.

  “It was hard, being compared to someone like her. But you see, it’s impossible not to like Presley as I’m sure you’re all aware. She’s generous—with her time and her affection and her advice. She’s kind, thoughtful. She’s a good friend.” I smile at her across the table. “She’s also got a terrible sense of humour that revolves entirely around puns so bad they make Dad jokes look cool.”

  The table titters and Presley’s grin grows even wider.

  “She’s also incredibly forgiving. God only knows she’s had a lot of practise, because this...” I point to the picture of us with pink hair and wide smiles and messy faces. “Was totally my fault.”

  “It was!” She laughs and points at me.

  “But you see, Presley doesn’t hold a grudge. No matter how many times I left, no matter how many we fought or sniped at one another or stole each other’s shoes, she would always forgive me.” I swallow back a surprising lump of emotion in my throat. “And so when I think about being compared to someone like her, I feel...proud. Proud to call her my sister and proud to have grown up with such a strong yet gentle woman. People don’t think those two traits go together, but if you’re with Presley for more than five minutes you’ll see that they do.”

  Her eyes shimmer, and she swipes a tear from her cheek. Mike sits beside her, looking stony-faced, not even trying to appear like he’s interested in what I have to say. When I falter, Flynn pushes a hand against my lower back, as if to steady me. His presence gives me power to stand up in front of this room and share my feelings—something I have never done before.

  With him by my side, I feel like I can tackle anything.

  After the dinner is over, Presley pulls me to one side and tackle hugs me. “Easy, Care Bear,” I say.

  “I hate it when we fight.” She looks at me with glimmering eyes. “I know you and Mike don’t get along—”

  “I shouldn’t have been so vocal about it.” I shake my head. “He’s going to be your husband and you’re a grown woman. It’s your decision, so I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “I want you to feel like you can talk to me. About anything.”

  “There’s talking and there’s...judging.” I bob my head. “I crossed the line, Pres. I’m sorry.”

  She looks like she wants to say something else, but instead she sucks on her lower lip. The truth is, I don’t like Mike. I think he’ll be bad for her—not in the way Flynn is bad for me, but properly bad.

  However, I can’t complain about people judging me and then turn around and do exactly the same thing to Presley. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t ruin her big day. I need to stick by that, enjoy the time I have with her.

  “So we’re not fighting anymore?” she asks.

  “No, we’re not fighting.” I sling an arm around her shoulders and rest my head against hers.

  Across the room, Flynn catches my eye and the corner of his lip lifts automatically, before he sharply looks away.

  “Now, what is that about?” Presley asks.

  “Subtle as a sledgehammer, he is.” I roll my eyes.

  “Are you two...?” She shakes her head. “No, I’m imagining things.”

  The cheeky grin that emerges, despite me knowing we’ve agreed to keep things quiet, totally betrays us.

  “You are!”

  “Shh.” I pull her farther away from the event. “It’s nothing, we’re just...”

  I can’t even explain it to myself.

  “A redhead, huh? He’s cute.” She smiles, clearly chuffed to be in on the secret. “Are you happy?”

  “Yeah, I am.” For the first time in months I am truly, blissfully, categorically happy. “I really am.”

  “Then that’s all that matters.”

  Is it? I’ve always felt like being happy wasn’t something to be trusted—because it could be taken away from you at any moment. Happiness was something to ration, to protect. But in protecting myself I’d been happier less and less. I’d forgotten how to let people in.

  Until him.

  I watch him across the room and my whole body glows with something warm and fuzzy—something precious. Flynn makes me happy. I might not know how to label it, or predict where it’s going, but I know that much at least.

  I like him and he makes me happy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Flynn

  DREW WAS MAGNIFICENT TONIGHT—the way she had the audience held in complete rapture, the way she showed her love for her sister...all of it. I’m enamoured. Smitten. We could barely keep our hands off each other in the taxi on the way home and now we’re stumbling through her front door, hands wandering and lips kissing and bodies on fire.

  “Stop,” she says breathlessly, laughter making her voice sound like bubbles. “I’m having a shower before we go any further. My legs are still sticky from when your brother opened that bottle of champagne all over me.”

  “Oh, Gabe.” I shake my head. “He doesn’t get out much these days and he’s a total lightweight.”

  “He’s really sweet, even if he is a sloppy drunk.” Drew grins. “I like him.”

  “I think the feeling is mutual. He was hinting that maybe I should ask you out.”

  She giggles, her eyes a little glassy from all the celebratory drinks we’ve consumed. We’re both a little drunk and a lot horny. “What did you say?”

  “That I’d take it under advisement.”

  She drapes her arms around my neck, swaying on her stilettos. “You didn’t tell him we’re already screwing like bunnies?”

  “I didn’t think that would be appropriate.”

  “So serious, Mr. Suit.”

  “It’s for the best.” I squeeze her butt. “Now go and have that shower before I haul you over my shoulder and take you to bed.”

  “Very caveman, I love it.” She totters off toward the bathroom. “We’re going back to
your place, by the way. No boinking on my friend’s bed.”

  I watch as she disappears into the bathroom. “Got it.”

  The sound of water rushing fills the apartment and steam billows out of the crack where the door sits ajar. I want to join her, but she made it clear before we even got home that she was going to shower alone. I don’t question these things—maybe she has something planned. Maybe it’s a girl thing. Who knows?

  I wait around, letting my imagination swirl. Letting my arousal build. The sound of running water cuts off but sounds continue to come from the bathroom. Not wanting to rush her, I pull out my phone and as if by some weird snap of cosmic timing, my brother’s face flashes up on the screen. I answer the call.

  “Hey, man.” It’s not like Gabe to call so late; he should be home with Zoe by now. “Everything okay?”

  “Flynn, I need you to come over...fuck.” Gabe sounds ruined.

  “What’s going on?” My eyes dart to the shower. I don’t want Drew to suddenly come out of the bathroom and give our secret away, so I duck into the only other room in her friend’s apartment—the bedroom.

  This apartment is a typical city shoebox, and about a third the size of mine. It’s cute but cramped. The bedroom has a double bed, which is unmade and strewn with clothes. There’s makeup scattered across a small vanity unit. Typical Drew.

  “It’s Monique.” Gabe sounds like he’s about to lose it. “She turned up at the house and the babysitter didn’t know what to do. She’s been...here. With Zoe. All night.”

  On the surface, it mightn’t sound bad, but I know why Gabe is furious. Zoe was distraught after her mother left, and reopening that wound is only going to add stress in a time when they already have enough to deal with.

  “Have you heard from her recently or did she turn up without warning?” I rake a hand through my hair.

  “She left a voicemail a few days ago, but I’m not taking her calls. Why would I? She left us and doesn’t even call for Zoe’s birthday. Now she’s saying she wants another chance and I’m...” His voice wavers. “What if she tries to fight me for custody?”