Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I huffed out a breath and pushed him back lightly because if I didn’t do it then, I wouldn’t do it at all. “I’m Flynn Honeycutt, and I’m fucking starving, so let’s go back and get some food.”
“After you, Mr. Honeycutt.” JT spread out a hand toward the path like a game show host.
I shook my head. “You’re such a dork,” I sighed. But as I passed him, I may have grabbed his hand and swung it as we walked for a pace or two… or a quarter of a mile. And when I finally let go of it, just before we passed out of the trees into the clearing, I may have whispered under my breath, “The Tavern closes at eleven.”
Chapter Eleven
JT
“Put your hand on my dick, for fuck’s sake,” Flynn growled. “Or I’ll do it myself.”
“I’m getting there.” I tweaked his nipple and rutted my aching cock against his left ass cheek, partly because I needed it and partly because I knew it would drive him insane. More insane. “Patience, baby.”
“Fuck you… and fuck your patience… and fuck your babies. I should not…” Flynn panted, “have let… you in tonight. Your smile when you got here… was pure fucking trouble.”
That was probably true. The only way I’d gotten through the rest of the cookout, followed by a very frustrating call with Alice where she insistently reminded me about the meetings she’d scheduled me in New York this week, was by fantasizing about how I was going to get Flynn off.
Needless to say, by the time I’d arrived at the Tavern, I’d already been half-hard and a hundred percent focused.
God knew my smile at that precise moment was probably pure fucking smugness, but it was entirely justified because I’d gotten Flynn exactly where I wanted him—bent over his own bar top, his thick, muscled forearms braced on the wood while I held him down with one hand on his nape and teased his wet, open hole with the other.
I was literally living the fantasy.
He turned his head to the side to glare at me over his freckled shoulder with one green eye, and my gaze caught on his kiss-swollen, spit-shiny lips. Fuck. That image instantly imprinted itself in my permanent spank bank.
If you’d asked me two months ago what the most beautiful sight on Earth was, I’d have told you about the sunset views from the Alexander Vineyard in Napa, where the hills and trees seemed to roll on into infinity. But I’d have been wrong.
At that moment, I knew categorically that this was the most beautiful sight—Flynn Honeycutt, stone sober and wild with lust, laid out before me like a banquet, trusting me with his body. I wanted to see him like this always, over and over again. I wanted Flynn to lay out the terms for that deal.
Despite all the progress we’d made with using our words out at the Retreat earlier, though, I knew better than to say any of this out loud unless I wanted him to panic and bolt, leaving a Flynn-shaped hole in the Tavern wall behind him.
Instead, just like last night, I was determined to show him how I felt without words. To make him even half as crazy for me as I was for him.
“That’s some bold talk from a man who was so eager to be fucked that he announced last call fifteen minutes early, just so all the customers would be gone by the time I got here,” I teased, my voice nearly as hoarse and wrecked as his. I trailed my fingers lower to fondle his balls, and Flynn’s hips jerked.
He swore ripely. “I hate you, Frog. Loathe. Abhor. And I was not eager to be fucked. For all you know, I was eager to do the fucking.”
I felt my lips twitch despite how desperately aroused I was. “Oh, god. How embarrassing. I totally misinterpreted. See, when I squeezed your ass while we were making out, and you moaned like a porn star, flipped around, laid yourself down, and commanded that I rim you, I immediately thought you wanted me to fill this hole.” I ran my fingers over his opening again, letting them catch on his rim, and his breath caught. “When you begged for my fingers and said, ‘More, JT. Fill me, JT,’ I thought this was what you wanted.” I stuffed two fingers back inside of him, tagging his prostate.
Flynn made a keening noise.
Christ. Perfect.
I lifted his chin in my other hand and twisted his head further so I could nip his jaw and run my teeth over the freckles on his shoulder. “Because otherwise, I would have been really fucking thrilled to take your dick,” I whispered, rutting against him again. “Remember that for next time.”
“Fucking fuck,” Flynn said eloquently through gritted teeth. He pounded one fist against the countertop. “Get inside me now and make me come, or there won’t be a next time. I don’t fuck around with jerks who get off on edging.”