Page 76 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

His words sent a violent shudder through me. Such sweet surrender, such perfect trust—and the promise of claiming and being claimed in return. The depth of want that coursed through me was painful. Dangerous. This beautiful creature would be my undoing, and I found myself welcoming the fall.

Flynn’s sounds grew louder, more frantic. The slick slide of his hand over his cock, the hitch in his breath as he neared the edge. I could almost feel the heat of his body, the weight of him in my arms.

If only. If only. If only.

“Yes, just like that,” I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. “I’m right there with you,mi amor,holding you close.” A strange pang of sadness hit me, and hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. This fantasy was the most exquisite torture—being so close to Flynn in my mind while knowing a few mere walls might as well be oceans between us.

“You are?” Flynn’s voice was barely audible.

“Of course. My hand is at your hip, drawing you against me,” I murmured, my words tumbling out in a rush. “Every inch of you pressed to me. You’re burning like sunlight, Flynn. My lips trace the curve of your neck.” My throat constricted, and I swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump that had formed. How had Flynn, in such a short time, made me feel more alive than I had in decades? More human. More vulnerable. “Can you feel it?”

“Yes,” he whispered with a tremble.

I closed my eyes, letting the fantasy consume me whole. “I’m breathing against your ear, grazing that perfect lobe with my teeth.” I could almost taste his pulse there, feel the delicate shell of it beneath my lips, that forbidden spot where I could so easily—

He gasped, a sharp, startled sound, and my body trembled in response, desperate for release.

“I’m pressing my fingers to your lips. First one, then another. And you’re taking them into that perfect mouth of yours, your tongue a wicked temptation against them. Such sweet torment.” Some deep partof me balked at my bold, explicit words, but I forced myself to continue. My voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “You’re drawing them deeper, and I can feel every detail—the sharp edge of your teeth, the velvet of your lips.”

The words had barely left my lips when I was rewarded with the unmistakable sound of Flynn sucking on his own fingers—a soft, slurping noise that made my cock ache impossibly harder.

Holy Lord Almighty.

Spitting once more on my hand, I closed my eyes and imagined my fingers in Flynn’s mouth, feeling the wet heat of his tongue as he swirled it around them. Flynn let out a soft moan, and I could almost picture him lying in his bed, his body writhing with pleasure. I wanted so very desperately to be there with him, to feel his skin against mine, to taste him.

As I listened to Flynn’s ragged breathing and the sweet sounds of his pleasure, my own body reached its breaking point. I felt the familiar tingle at the base of my spine, and then lightning-hot bliss ricocheted through me, sending me crashing over the edge. My hand moved swiftly, stroking myself to completion, and I felt my cock seize and spasm, releasing a cool, pulsing jet of cum onto my shirt. I let out a low, ragged gasp, panting as the waves of pleasure washed over me, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm. For a moment, everything else was lost, and all that existed was my imagined pounding of my beating heart and the sweet, sweet sound of Flynn’s pleasure.

“Flynn,” I rasped. “Did you hear what you did to me?”

“Yes.” His breathing increased. He was close.

“I’m touching you now,” I said. If only it were true.If only.“Rubbing my fingers against you. Do you like that?”

“Mmmm,” was the only reply.

“I’m inside you, Flynn. Claiming you completely. My fingers are taking you apart piece by piece, pressing just where you need them.”

Flynn’s scream was sudden and raw, but it was swiftly muffled, as if he’d bitten down on his lip or clamped his hand over his mouth, the sound dying on his lips in a stifled gasp.

“Have you finished?” I asked, voice rough with longing.

He didn’t reply.

“Let me taste your pleasure,” I breathed. “Every precious drop.” My tongue chased phantom sensations, memories that weren’t mine to own.

More silence.

A single tear traced down my cheek, catching me entirely off guard. I brushed it away with trembling fingers. After decades of control, how had this single moment managed to crack me open so thoroughly?

“You taste like salvation,” I breathed, the words carrying the weight of truth. “Perfect beyond measure. Beyond anything I’ve known in all my years.”

The soft rhythm of Flynn’s inhales and exhales whispered through the line, deliberate as a metronome.

“Flynn?” Cold terror swept through me—had I gone too far? “Please, tell me you’re well.” The silence stretched like a blade between us, and for a moment I was certain I’d ruined everything.

Then finally, the tiniest of tentative voices. “Please come here. I need you. I need to hold you. I promise I won’t ask for more than that.” Thick emotion coloured his words, and he inhaled sharply. “I need it so badly.”

A deafening quiet replaced his plea as my mind raced. The rules I’d made, the boundaries I’d set—they all seemed to crumble in the face of his words. His vulnerability. The promise in his voice of something I’d denied myself for so very long: connection.

---