Page 105 of Over the Edge

“Christ, Lyric,” he murmured, his voice strained as he circled that sensitive bundle of nerves. “You’re so wet.”

I arched into his touch, my body responding with an urgency that surprised me. There were no shadows here, no unwelcome memories—just Flynn and me, tangled together in the half-light of his bedroom. I slipped my hand between us, wrapping my fingers around his cock, feeling him pulse against my palm as I stroked his slowly. His sharp intake of breath made me smile.

“Need you,” I whispered, guiding him closer. “Now.”

His eyes darkened to burnt amber. “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

“We didn’t use one last time.”

“I know, and that was reckless of me,” he said, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. “But I’m clean. I get tested regularly.”

“Me too. Standard protocol. And I have a birth control implant.”

“I need to be sure you’re comfortable with everything tonight.”

The concern in his voice made something warm bloom in my chest. I tightened my grip on his cock, enjoying the throb of him against my palm.

“I’m sure,” I whispered. “Just you. Nothing between us.”

He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed hard. The vulnerability in his eyes matched my own as he positioned himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me without pushing in.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

I did, our gazes locking as he slowly, carefully entered me. The stretch and fullness made me gasp, my body accommodating him inch by inch until he was seated fully inside me. We both stilled, breathing heavily, adjusting to the sensation of being joined so intimately.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“More than okay,” I assured him, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him even deeper. “Move, Flynn. Please.”

He began to rock into me with slow, deliberate strokes, his eyes never leaving mine. Each thrust felt like reclamation—of my body, my choice, my power. Flynn watched me with an intensity that should have been unnerving but instead felt like an anchor, keeping me present in the moment rather than lost in the shadows of memory.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “So strong. So brave.”

I shook my head, unable to accept the praise when I still felt so broken inside. “I’m not?—”

“You are,” he insisted, punctuating each word with a deep, measured thrust that sent sparks of pleasure racing up my spine. “The bravest person I’ve ever known.”

My chest tightened, eyes burning with unexpected tears. I turned my face away, not wanting him to see how deeply his words affected me, but Flynn gently turned me back to face him.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, brushing away a tear that had escaped despite my efforts. “Not tonight.”

The tenderness in his touch undid me. I surged up to capture his mouth, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the kiss—my fear, my gratitude, my desperate need for connection. Flynn responded, kissing me back like he was desperate for a taste of me, his hips never faltering in their steady rhythm as he drove me higher.

“Flynn,” I gasped against his lips as heat began to build low in my belly. “I need?—”

“Tell me,” he urged, shifting slightly to change the angle of his thrusts. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

“More,” I pleaded, digging my fingers into his shoulders. “Harder.”

“Like this?” He scooped one of my legs onto his shoulder, his hips snapping forward with a primal intensity that made me gasp. The cheap metal bed frame creaked beneath us as he drove deeper into me.

“Yes!” The new angle hit something exquisite, and I cried out, my back arching off the bed. “God, yes!”

My body sang under his touch, pleasure building with each stroke. This wasn’t just sex—this was reclamation, validation, healing. Each place he touched erased Moreau’s violation, replacing unwanted memories with new ones I’d chosen. With Flynn, I wasn’t a victim or even a survivor. I was just a woman wanting—and being wanted.

“Flynn,” I gasped as the tension coiled tighter, my body trembling on the precipice. “I’m close.”

His hand slid between our bodies, his fingers unerringly finding my clit, circling with just the right pressure. The dual sensation—his cock deep inside me, his fingers working their magic—sent me spiraling over the edge. I cried out his name as pleasure crashed through me, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses.

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