Page 29 of Kissing Flynn

“We did it!” she cheers, then leaps forward.

I catch her as her legs wrap around my waist and her arms cinch around my neck. Her laughter rings in my ears as her body vibrates against mine, and I feel like I’ve died and gone straight to heaven.

Max must realize the position we’re in, because her laughter dies, and she clears her throat before leaning back to meet my gaze. When her eyes drop to my mouth, my cock twitches, and she must feel it because her eyes darken to molten honey as a quiet moan vibrates in her chest.

I don’t move a single muscle, letting Max decide what happens next. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, not taking control and slamming her back against a wall so I can devour her. She must see the need in my eyes, because her lips hitch upward, and she leans in slowly. She stops just before our lips meet, and I think I might actually die if she doesn’t kiss me.

Then her lips brush over mine, and my mind goes blank. Nothing else exists besides her and me in this single, perfect moment.

And if I do die, at least I’ll die happy.

Nineteen

Max

Oh, my God, I’m kissing Flynn Nightingale.

And even better, he’s kissing me back.

Those are the last two thoughts I have before my mind goes blank, overrun by flashes of light and heat as Flynn carries me deeper into his room. Somehow, I end up with my back against his mattress, Flynn’s weight crushing me deliciously as his mouth devours mine.

Like he’s been starved for it.

And this time, he’s not stopping. Not pumping the brakes or pushing me away.

“Jesus,” he huffs between kisses. “You taste even better than I remember.”

White-hot lava unfurls in my belly as he trails a hot, wet path down my throat, not just using his lips, but his entire mouth. Tongue. Teeth. Everything.

His hand slips beneath the hem of my shorts, his fingertips skimming up the back of my thigh, and I have a moment of lucidity, remembering I’m wearing a one-piece romper that can’t be easily shed, especially when I’m laying beneath him like this.

Gripping Flynn’s shoulders and throwing one leg over his, I heave, rolling us over until I’m the one on top, straddling his waist. His hands land on my thighs as he smiles up at me. I hold the eye contact as I undo the row of tiny buttons between my breasts, and as I slowly pull the material apart and push the wide straps down my shoulders, Flynn’s gaze drops to my bare chest.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, his hands pushing up my sides before cupping my breasts.

Once the top of the romper pools at my waist, leaving my upper half bare, I tug at the hem of Flynn’s shirt, pushing it up until he takes the not-so-subtle hint, releases my breasts, and sits up slightly so he can rip the garment off and toss it aside.

I push his shoulders down and lean over him, igniting fresh flames as I ravage his mouth with mine. I can feel his cock straining inside his jeans beneath me, and I can’t help but rotate my hips to grind against it. Fireworks flare to life behind my closed eyelids, and when Flynn’s hands grab my hips and push me down even harder against him, I think I might pass out from the sheer pleasure of it.

Breaking off the kiss, I forge a path down his neck with my mouth in the same way he did mine before, and the deep groan in his throat vibrates against my lips.

“Max,” he gasps, and I freeze, making him add. “Please, don’t stop.”

He groans again when I move to his chest, nipping at his flesh with my teeth as I continue to dry hump him through our clothes.

“I’ve dreamt about this so many times,” he huffs between harsh breaths. “Nothing can compare to the real thing. You feel so fucking good.”

With those words spurring me on, I raise myself up an inch before shimmying down his thighs. My mouth charts a course down his stomach to his abdomen, around his navel to the button of his jeans. A second later, I’m nuzzling his erection through the denim.

Flynn flies upright, grips my upper arms, and pulls me back up his body. Our mouths meet as he flips us back over, then he copies my earlier movements by kissing a path down my neck to my chest. I gasp when his hot mouth covers one nipple, his tongue flicking against it before sucking it, hard. The muscles in my core clench in response, and moisture floods my channel, leaving my underwear soaked.

Flynn pays the same homage to the other breast before continuing his downward trajectory. When he reaches my waist, he sits back on his heels and tugs the romper down my thighs. I lift my legs into the air so he can tug the material free, and he doesn’t waste a second making sure my underwear follow, leaving me completely naked.

I watch as he stares down at me with burning fascination, his palms gliding up my inner thighs to spread them wide. When they reach the top, I feel his thumbs spread me open and watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“You’re drenched,” he whispers as one thumb runs up my slit, collecting the moisture before gently circling my clit.

I yelp as my hips buck involuntarily. It’s been so long since anyone else has touched me like this, and even longer since I’ve wanted––no, needed––it so desperately.

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