She puts a finger to my lips, hushing me. “There will be plenty of time for that later, all right? I’ve got plans for you in the meantime.”
I don’t ask what those plans are, because her actions make it perfectly clear as she shuffles down my body and kneels between my thighs. Tucking her hair over one shoulder, she shoots me a filthy smile before taking my cock in her hand. She squeezes, strokes, tugs at my dick, sussing me out just like I was her only moments ago.
Carrie fists the base of my shaft, getting into a rhythm of shallow strokes. Then, after watching her own actions—and my reactions—for a few seconds, she licks her lips and then closes them around my tip.
I suck in another hasty breath and grip the sheets, hoping to keep some semblance of control. She isn’t making it easy, though. Giving head is something she clearly both enjoys and is good at. Very good. Her mouth is plenty wet, the saliva seeping past her lips and running down my cock, so her wanking me off becomes just as slippery as her sucking me off. She’s enthusiastic as she bobs up and down, letting out little moans and groans as she pleasures me, her tongue flicking and swirling, setting off tingles in places I didn’t even know I had. Or had forgotten about.
Before long, I’m staring intently at the patterns on the ceiling, trying to count them in order to stop myself from coming. She’s just so fucking good. Amazing.
It quickly becomes apparent that all the ceiling-staring in the world isn’t going to prevent the inevitable. “Carrie,” I say gently, reaching out and resting a hand on her head. “Carrie, stop. If you don’t, I’m going to come. Soon.”
In a surprisingly casual fashion, she lifts her head, but keeps her hand moving, keeping me on the edge. “You coming is kind of the point, Flynn.”
“Well, ye-ah, but then I won’t be able to … you know.”
“I’m sure you’ll soon recover. And until you do, you can always repay the favor, can’t you? If you’re feeling up to it, that is.”
“Oh, I’m feeling up to it, don’t worry.”
“Good. So stop talking and let me get on with it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Well, that’s told me. I keep my hand on her head and fist it in her hair, though I’m just holding on for the ride, not trying to guide or dictate what she does.
It doesn’t take her long to get back into her rhythm—and she even goes one step further by adding her other hand into the mix, tugging and rolling my balls. There’s nothing I can do … I’m a goner. Her hands and mouth work at me, torment me, drive me insane with erotic need. I close my eyes, trying to hold on just a second longer…
Heat inflames my entire body, leaving all my hairs standing on end. Then everything tightens, including my ball sac. It seems Carrie has noticed, because she picks up her pace and sinks her mouth further down my shaft. Damn. Apparently she swallows, too. Could the woman get any hotter?
Any thoughts that are even remotely rational are driven from my head as my orgasm takes over. Tingles follow in the wake of the heat, then center in on the base of my spine. Then I come. With a grunt and a hastily stifled moan—I retain just enough presence of mind to remember we’re in a hotel—I succumb. What feels like molten lava shoots from my dick, again and again, straight into Carrie’s ready and eager mouth.
I’m bucking, jerking, moaning, letting out streams of expletives as I’m overwhelmed by pleasure.
Finally, it’s over. I sag into the mattress, grinning—no doubt like an idiot—and gingerly release my hold on Carrie’s hair. I hope I didn’t hurt her when I lost it. By the way she’s slurping at my cock, though, I’d say she’s perfectly all right.
Tiny aftershocks zing through my body as she continues to lick my softening dick, and I can’t help the grunts that escape my lips each time.
A minute or so later, Carrie seems satisfied, and she pulls her mouth away with a resounding pop, then looks at me. I grin widely, and she returns the gesture.
“That,” I say earnestly, “was amazing. Better than amazing, but you’ve stolen every ounce of my thinking power, so I can’t come up with another word at the moment.”
Carrie rakes her hands through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “Good.” Her expression is pleased. “I’m glad. Because I really enjoyed doing it. Taking care of you. I told you I would.”
“You did.” I nod. “But actually, I’m feeling much better. They say orgasms are good for your health. So,” I reach for her hands, pull her on top of me, then flip us both over until I’m on top, “I think it’s time I took care of you now, don’t you?”
I cover her mouth with mine before she has a chance to respond, engaging her in another soul-stealing kiss, before reluctantly pulling away. But I’m not reluctant for long, as I work my way down her naked body, exploring every inch as I go.
Chapter Twelve
I’ve always found the best way to avoid something nasty is to change the subject. Flynn was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear, so giving him a blowjob definitely stopped him following through on that. And I got to get my hands on him and rub my body against his nakedness.
Now he’s on top of me I’m barely capable of thought. My body is alive with sensation. His chest skimming across my nipples makes them stand on edge and his kisses dotting across my collarbone feel like bombs detonating, sending desire through every fiber of my being. He will only have to look at my clit and I’ll explode in orgasm. I’m taut with lust and desperate to be set off.
Flynn stops above my belly button and coughs loudly, his whole body shaking.
“Oh, dear God, Flynn, are you all right?”
He nods, one hand to his mouth, the other holding him up.
I slither up beneath him and grab the glass of water from the bedside cabinet.
“Roll over and have a sip of this.” I wait for Flynn to move and pass him the glass. As he’s sipping I gently run my hand up and down his arm.
“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, “I guess the orgasm power wore off.”
“Don’t worry, Flynn, there are other bits you can use to satisfy me. Bits that won’t end up literally taking your breath away.”
“Good point.” He passes the glass to me and when I turn back to face him he’s closer than I expect. “Kissing you takes my breath away, Carrie, but I owe you one orgasm so I’m going to let my fingers do the talking.”
Flynn pushes me down onto the mattress and leans up on one elbow to rest above me.
“I’m all for letting your fingers at me, but please, don’t hurt yourself. You’re still unwell.”
“I’m okay now.” Flynn smiles, the only evidence of his coughing fit two spots of high color on his cheeks. “And all the better for being beside your naked body.”
Flynn slides his free hand over my stomach and down the outside of my thigh. He repeats the stroke over and over until I’m purring like a contented cat and arching my back to get his fingers to touch me exactly where I want them.
I plead with Flynn silently, words refusing to form. Our gazes are locked, and I pour all my desire into my look, hoping he will take pity on me. He finally does. His middle finger slips down over my pubic curls and slips between the folds of my pussy, catching the ball of my clit and making me sigh with relieved delight.
“Fuck, Carrie, you’re so wet, so fucking wet. I love it.”
He rubs harder, making my legs quake in response.
“You, it’s because of you,” I pant, eyes closed tightly because it hurts to keep them open. It’s like I’m shutting everything down to just focus my body’s energies in one place, the point where his finger connects with my cunt.
“You’re so sensitive, so fucking responsive. Fuck, I could watch you writhing at my touch all day. I can’t wait to see you come. You are going to come for me, aren’t you?”
“God, yes!” I exclaim, bouncing up from the soft bed to his hand, desperate for more friction, aching for release.
“Come for me, Carrie,” he whispers insistently.
My e
yes flutter open for a second, and he is gazing at my face, biting his bottom lip. My eyelids snap shut again as ecstasy floods my body and the vision of him staring at me so intently is seared into my mind. I come for him, his intense stare spurring me on.
Shaking and shivering, the climax subsides. I pant, trying to catch my breath. I’m completely undone, but the comfortingly familiar weight of Flynn’s arm resting across the top of my stomach grounds me. I’m happy. I can’t remember the last time I thought that and truly meant it. But in this moment, with this man, I’m content.
“Carrie,” he whispers, his lips gently brushing my ear lobe.
“Hmm?” Words are still too long and difficult to put together. A couple of consonants though I could manage.
“I want to fuck you.”
Forcing my eyes open quickly at such a sensually shocking message, I find him smiling down on me. We both laugh at my startled jump from post orgasmic contentment back into a heightened state of lust.
“I want you to fuck me, but, considering your cough, I think it would be better for both of us if I fucked you.” Placing a hand firmly in the center of his chest I push him with only a little force. He rolls to his back without argument, and I see the physical evidence of his need. My mind goes completely blank. All I can think about is his cock and how we’re going to fuck, actually properly fuck, right now. Eventually I remember we need a condom before we do anything else, but where did I put them? I look around and see the packets glinting on the bedside cabinet. I reach out and, in my haste, manage to knock the pile flying. Oops. I don’t have the time or the inclination to tidy up after myself, so I just grab a packet and get back to the job in hand, so to speak.
With shaking fingers I unveil the contents and push it down over his cock. Once more I clamber over him. My breasts sway, and he reaches out to still them, filling his palms and flicking my nipples with his thumbs. Reaching between our bodies I guide him between my thighs, rub the tip of his dick down the cleft of my pussy until it locks with my entrance. I push down and take him inside me. His girth stretches me, but it doesn’t hurt because I’m so slick from my previous orgasm. I’m full, complete, and I don’t ever want to move or disconnect from his body again.
I always thought that all the talk of melding into one and feeling like you’re part of the person you’re fucking was a load of old romantic claptrap. A fuck is a fuck, a physical joining and nothing more. I change my mind as I ride Flynn. I’m aroused and reacting physically with my body, but there is something so much deeper than that connecting us.
Poetry leaps to mind. My soul sings … his key fits my lock … our hearts beat as one. I don’t know where it’s coming from. I’ve never experienced something so perfect before. I try hard not to let them fall, but the tears of happiness eventually push past my eyelashes and trail down my cheeks.
Flynn cups my face and wipes the tears away. Looking down, I see his concern and I smile to reassure him that I’m fine. He’s holding something back, too. His brow is knitted and there is a sadness in his gaze. I hope I’ve not caused it. I want to tell him I’m so happy, I want him to know how I feel, to tell him I love him, but I can’t let those words fall, not yet. Those words would make me vulnerable, and I can’t be even more vulnerable now.
“Carrie,” he gasps. I place a finger on his lips. I don’t want him to speak, scared his words might pull me out of the dream.
“I know,” I groan, rocking against him, and his hiss of arousal tickles against my finger. “I feel it, too.”
Our gazes meet. Energy flows between us, his arousal driving mine and vice versa. We are locked together in movement and with intention. We couldn’t pull apart even if we had to. We rock together towards the inevitable conclusion. I nuzzle a finger between my wet lips and touch the point where we are physically joined. The excitement zaps through me, and within moments I’m on the brink of coming once more, my eyes closing automatically, unable to take the pressure of ecstasy.
It’s scary how much I love this man. That must be what I’m feeling—what else could it be? He is the only person in the whole world I trust completely. I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone completely before. My employees I watch with an eagle eye, always cynically expecting them to do something to let me down. And as for my mother, well, let’s not go there.
Flynn would never let me down, I know that with an unerring certainty, and it scares me. What if I let him down? What if I hurt him? We live in different worlds, and everything about our relationship is complicated. How we even have a relationship, I don’t know. It’s a miracle I ever met him or spoke to him. But being with Flynn makes everything better.
I shake off my fears and worries and concentrate on the joy coursing through my veins. I lift my heavy eyelids and look at him. His face is screwed up in concentration, his head thrown back, neck muscles straining. Sweat beads his chest, and I think of what he’s been through. This man has seen such pain, such hurt. I want to take it all away for him.
He is focused on me, on our joining, and I suppose that maybe this is bringing him some relief. I want to bring him ecstasy. His pleasure is my pleasure, and as he shouts out, thrusting his hips up towards me and holding still, I feel his orgasm pass through into me and I come, grinding against his pelvis as the pleasure courses through my body.
I feel weak and fall forward onto his chest. He wraps his arms around me, strokes my hair and back, and I kiss his shoulders and chest. A cough rocks him, and I slip off to the side.
“I’m okay,” he gasps, “don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.” I settle against him, hooking my leg over his. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” His breathing evens out, and his grip loosens. I lie still, basking in the warmth and contentment. After a few minutes he makes a snuffling-snorting sound and I realize he’s asleep. Not the most romantic of things to do post-coitally, but as the poor guy is suffering from flu I’ll let him off. It gives me opportunity to think, but I’m not sure I really want to. I’d prefer to sleep, too, but sadly I’m wide awake.
Before we started fucking, Flynn was building up to tell me something big. It didn’t seem like something he was comfortable saying, and he had trouble getting his words out. And then we ended up naked, bringing each other to orgasm. It had definitely distracted him from what he wanted to say, but now it haunts me.
It doesn’t take a Mensa mind to work out the direction he was going to head in. We are the impossible couple. He’s essentially a tramp, and I’m stupidly rich. Neither of us can live in the other’s world without a major sacrifice. Flynn would have to sacrifice his pride and accept my money and my help to come live in my high-flying executive world. How else could he do it? It would take him more than a lifetime of litter-picking and odd-jobbing to make it on his own.
And if he chooses to join me, to become part of my life, he’d have the spotlight focused on him. I’m not exactly a celebrity, but my movements occasionally end up in the press and the gossip magazines. Who will I tell them he is? I can’t let them know his real name—he’s an AWOL soldier for God’s sake. He’ll be crucified. A mysterious lover for the billionaire who just had a dramatic nervous breakdown. It’s tabloid gold. We’d never be left alone.
But it’s not any easier for me to join him in his world. I can’t just throw away my money. I certainly won’t give away my company. I worked hard to establish it, and I can’t walk away from it now. As much as I enjoyed being shoeless and fancy free with Flynn, I know I couldn’t do that for every day of my life. I’m not tough enough to live in a rundown old hovel with no heating or plumbing or basics like an actual bed.
I know it sounds selfish, and they always say if you’re truly in love you’ll give up everything for the one you love, but to give up civilized life as I know it is a step too far. And how could I just disappear anyway? Some twit with a smart-phone would find me eventually, and then there’d be a media stampede and once again it would end up with Flynn being outed and made to g
o back and pay the price of his desertion.
I sit up, careful not to disturb my patient. I pull up the duvet, kicked down and scuffed up at the bottom of the bed, and drape it over his sleeping form. He is fast asleep and doesn’t even move. The poor guy is exhausted. I slip out of bed and pad into the bathroom to have a shower. I do my best decision-making in the shower.
It was the burden of too many decisions that made me snap in the first place. It wasn’t that I had to make them that was the problem. It was that I had to make them on my own. I’m going to dish out the responsibility a lot more evenly when I get back to work. I won’t shy away from decisions, the responsibility won’t just go away, but I won’t try to shoulder it all by myself. Having the closeness with Flynn, letting him have a little control has shown me that I don’t have to do everything alone. In fact, that is a kind of self-imposed punishment. I have to stop beating myself up for not being the perfect daughter or having the perfect mum. I’ve got to start living, not just working.
I sigh deeply and push my head under the pounding water of the shower. I want to share everything with Flynn. It’s a stupid urge, completely unobtainable and not to mention completely hare-brained. I’ve only known the man a short while, I shouldn’t be thinking about making him my equal partner, not now, and sadly the reality is dawning on me that maybe it isn’t even a distant possibility.
The obvious, logical conclusion hurts. For me and Flynn to continue life happily and successfully, we have to go our separate ways. There is just no scenario where we can be together happily. It will always end up with Flynn being exposed, and I can’t let that happen. He let me in, told me his secrets, and I’ll never, ever break his trust.
But we don’t have to part just yet. As far as anyone knows I’m still at my mum’s recovering, and Flynn doesn’t exactly have anyone with any expectations of where he should be. We can hide away from the world for a while, put off the heartbreaking decision until later, much later.
The Billionaire and the Wild Man Page 11