by Mia Madison
“Wow,” she says and laughs. “Some pigsty! This is gorgeous.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I’ve spent a lot of time and a fair amount of cash remodeling my old cottage.
“Now I know the real reason why you never invite women here.” She looks around, smiling.
“Why?”
“They might never want to leave. Tell me, what will you do if I don’t want to go?” There’s a challenge in her voice.
Is she trying to scare me? Right now, it only sounds good that she might want to stay.
“I might have to carry you out over my shoulder,” I say.
“Like a stone age firefighter? Be careful, I might like that,” she says.
“Right then.” I pick her up, and she’s over my shoulder in a classic fireman’s lift before I think twice. I carry her around my living room, and she bursts out laughing before hammering on my back.
“Put me down. I didn’t mean it.”
“I think you did,” I tease and bend to kiss her.
CHAPTER 17
Rachel
My emotions are all over the place, reeling as he kisses me in his surprisingly stylish living room, the rain battering against the window. I don’t know what to think, how to act with him.
Is everything he’s doing and saying a ploy to win over a reluctant woman, the one who nearly got away?
I don’t know, but right now with his lips on mine I don’t care much. I just want to enjoy the kiss, the bubbles of desire running down my spine as if my nerves remember exactly what happened the last time I had a kiss like that from him. His lips. The ice. Everything. The masculine scent of cologne and clean soap and unmistakable Flynn surrounds me as I kiss him right back. Nothing like a friend. Not even close.
He breaks off a moment. “Is this allowed? Even though I’m officially a bad guy.”
“It’s allowed.”
He swoops in for another kiss that only ends when Jackson gives a little bark.
“I think he finished his dinner.” Flynn smiles and leads me over to the couch, switching on a lamp on the side table, and some music—an easy ballad by a group I never heard—and he sets the wall mounted gas fire going with the remote.
“Impressive,” I say. “Lighting. Music. Nice fire. Instant heat.”
“Instant heat is about right,” he murmurs as he kisses me on the side of my neck. He already knows what that does to me. “You shouldn’t kiss bad guys; you never know what they might do next.”
“Yeah, they might switch on a lamp or something dangerous,” I tease.
“They might, or they might give you a spanking.”
I gasp, but he just kisses me again, as if he said nothing out of the ordinary, pulling me to sit on his lap, our bodies pressed together as if a fraction of an inch between us would be too much. I feel him hard against me. He wants me, that’s clear, although I already gathered that from his kisses.
“What about this? Am I allowed to touch you here?” he asks.
I suck in a breath as he reaches out and runs a finger over the front of my sweater. My nipples are so hard I’m guessing he can feel them through three layers of clothing.
“I think that’s allowed.”
“What if I say I don’t want to be just friends? That being just friends is not going to work for me?”
“I’d say we’re past that already. That friends don’t do this.”
“No.” He grins, his eyes as mischievous as ever. “They don’t, do they? I wonder what else friends don’t do. We’ve torn down the barricades now.”
“They don’t do this,” I say, grabbing the buckle on his belt and undoing it. “They don’t touch each other here.” I run my fingers along the solid length of him over his jeans, and he groans.
“You’re going to kill me,” he says.
“Consider yourself dead.” I have the zipper of his jeans down and I drop to my knees on the rug, my lips wrapped around him before he can stop me.
“Fuck, Rachel,” he says. “Your dirty mouth. Oh jeez.”
I hardly believe it’s me and how much I want to do this. To him. For him. And surprisingly, for me. Yes, for me. That’s another first.
“Stay the night with me,” he says.
That brings me back to reality, suddenly nervous. “I don’t know.” I know how I feel about him, but what if it’s all an act on his part?
“What if I say I’m ready to surprise the crew at the fire station? I’ll tell them to fuck off with their bets.”
“I might think you say that to all the girls if they know about the bet.”
“What if I tell you I don’t say that? Because, believe me, I don’t. There’s no point in lying to anyone. And whatever you think of me, I’ll never lie to you.”
“In that case, I might have to believe you.”
“And then you’d stay?”
“No. Then I’d still go home. This is all so fast.”
“I’m going to say it, anyway.” He looks directly at me. “I’m ready to surprise the crew at the fire station. All bets are off.”
I don’t know who moves first. It’s probably both of us at the same time. But we’re kissing again like it was going out of fashion. Like iron filings on a magnet, we can’t seem to stay apart. The kiss deepens until it feels like there’s a lot more than kissing going on. My heart is thudding so hard, I feel sure he’s going to hear it over the snuffling of the dog settling down after his walk and dinner.
“Stay with me for a while even if you won’t stay all night?” Flynn asks, when we break off and he looks at me.
And I nod, because leaving is the last thing I want to do right now. What I want to do involves getting completely naked, not putting on my thick coat and going out into the December cold.
He pulls my sweater over my head, and the rest of our clothes fly off in record time in a maelstrom of lips and hands and kisses.
And when there’s nothing left to remove, I want to feast on the glorious sight of him, smooth flesh and muscles, his cock, everything. I want to take him back in my mouth. I want to pleasure him with every part of me.
It’s as if a new, wanton Rachel suddenly came alive, a Rachel who wants to lie with him on the rug in front of the fire and enjoy every moment with him, and every hard inch of his body.
CHAPTER 18
Flynn
I lay her down naked in front of the fire, and it feels like there’s all the time in the world to enjoy each other—endless caresses with our hands, our mouths, our lips, so good I never want to move from the rug with the glow of the fire and warmth on our bare skin.
She has me so wrapped up in pleasing her, it’s only at the last moment I remember protection. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I was tested after my ex and I haven’t been with anyone since. I’m still on the pill, too. As long as you’re okay.”
“I’ve never not used a condom.” And I smile because jeez, I want to get inside her so much, bare skin against skin.
She opens to me as I thrust into her, and she moans at the moment where our bodies truly connect, her eyes widening as they look into mine. I’m deep inside her, and we can’t take our eyes off each other. It’s fucking magical. If this is more than a physical connection, I want it. But only with her. Simply being inside her is something else, as if our bodies were designed just for this and nothing else.
I take her slow at first, enjoying the heat and tightness of her, but after a while, I can’t stop myself plunging into her hard, and she moans out her pleasure, and then there’s no holding back, nothing but hard and fast and perfect fucking in all kinds of ways and angles and moves, craving her pleasure as much as my own. Our bodies seem to have a will of their own, syncing together as if made for each other on the soft rug.
When she comes, the sound from her mouth calling my name is better than music. That and her muscles, tightening and releasing over and over around my cock, are my undoing, and I quickly follow her over the edge, spurt after spurt deep inside her. This won’t, and can’t, b
e the last time tonight. I’ll never tire of this, of her.
I hold her in my arms and pull the blanket from the couch over us in case she’s cold.
“Okay?” I ask. She seems dreamy, a bit out of it, as if she were high on drugs. But I know the feeling. Wrapped up together on the rug by the fire, our bodies replete, really does seem out of this world.
“I don’t think I can move,” she says.
“Then don’t. Stay here. Right here.” And we drift off to sleep just like that in the early evening twilight, the rain still coming down. I’ve never been happier.
During the night, we wake. It’s still warm from the fire and the blanket, but I take her to my bed. I want her there. And it’s as good as ever. After we both come, I try to tell her how she makes me feel, what she means to me, but she’s fallen asleep in my arms, and I let her rest, her warm breath against my chest.
In the morning, she’s still there. I like that. We’re in my bed where she belongs, and I make breakfast and take it to her.
“Is your office closed between Christmas and New Year’s Day?”
“Yes, no one does any work anyway, so they decided to close down for the duration. I guess you’re not free?”
“No, but I don’t have to work New Year’s Eve if you want to spend it with me.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’d like that too. Let me just show you how much I like that idea.”
CHAPTER 19
Rachel
Flynn doesn’t tell me where he’s taking me for New Year’s Eve. Lisa asked me if we were going to a party we are both invited to, but I’m not sure what Flynn has in mind. He just told me to wear a warm coat, because it’s cold out, and that we would be eating dinner.
I wear a short red dress suitable for the usual types of party I get invited to.
“Where are we going?” I ask when he picks me up.
“Wait and see.”
“I might have the wrong clothes on.” I really want to know. There’s nothing worse than turning up somewhere and looking completely out of place.
“You don’t have to plan everything. Sometimes the best things are surprises. What do you have on under your coat, anyway? A bathing suit?” He grins, as if he likes that idea.
“No.”
“You’ll be fine then. We’re going to celebrate something special on the stroke of midnight.”
“Yes. Along with the rest of the world.”
“But it’s significant for us. We’ll have been going out two years by then—last year and this year.”
I laugh. “Only you can make less than two weeks into two years.”
“It’s important. You wanted our relationship to last beyond a month and now it has. Two years is a lot longer than a month. And then you can relax. I’m not going to run off anywhere.” He kisses me. “I like these longer-than-a-month relationships, but only with you.”
Who wouldn’t melt at that? Not even wary old me who has been dumped a few months before her wedding. I get into the spirit of the evening. Whatever it brings, I’m going to enjoy it.
He drives to Cullen Beach, where there’s a restaurant decorated with a million white fairy lights. We eat, and at midnight, we go outside with the staff and other diners to view the fireworks over the bay. It’s magical watching them with Flynn, his arms around me, his body protecting me from the cold wind.
“Going to take you home now, baby,” he murmurs in my ear. “For a proper celebration that doesn’t need a crowd.”
When we get inside his cottage, he says, “Admit it, you thought we wouldn’t last two years, didn’t you?”
I laugh. “Call me skeptical, but yes, there’s been a moment or two since I met you when I thought it unlikely.”
“Oh ye of little faith. You see, you were wrong about me.”
“Dead wrong.”
“And there’s a forfeit for that.”
“A forfeit?”
“Forfeit means a punishment.”
“I know what it means.”
“But do you really?” he asks, his eyes full of the kind of merriment I’m starting to recognize as Flynn up to no good. He sits down on the couch. “It means over my lap, here, panties around your ankles.”
I gasp. “You think I’m doing that?”
“Yes, I think you like the idea more than you let on. But if you try and don’t like it, we can stop. Any time.”
“And if I say no?”
“We don’t start. Are you going to say no?”
I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Am I crazy? Maybe I am. Crazy with lust for him.
“I’m waiting,” he says, holding out his hand, and I take it.
He kisses me and pulls me over his knee, my dress pushed up, showing the tops of my stockings.
“You wore these for me?” he asks, but I don’t think he’s expecting an answer. “I like. You can leave them on. Only your panties have to come down.”
It’s undignified lying over his lap, but somehow dignity doesn’t come into sex with Flynn, nothing but pleasure, and joy and laughter and release.
“Here, let me help you out,” he says, yanking down my panties, and smoothing his hands over my bare behind. “Glad to make your acquaintance,” he says, as if he’s being introduced at a tea party. And then his hand comes down sharply on my butt.
“Ouch, that hurts,” I protest.
“Just wait,” he says. “Let the blood flow back. Go with the sting.”
CHAPTER 20
Flynn
I love that Rachel is prepared to try this out. It’s fucking hot having her lying over my lap like this, but I want to make sure she enjoys it, too. There’s no fun in it if she doesn’t. And plenty of other pleasures to enjoy if it’s not for her.
At first, I can tell she’s wondering what the hell she let herself in for and then a minute or two into it, my hard is starting to sting, and there’s a change in her, too. She starts raising her ass to meet my hand, and the sounds from her throat are more about urging me on than little squeals of pain.
“Tell me if you’ve had enough,” I say as I spank her again, but she just moans into the couch and lifts her hips once more.
My hands wander between her legs. She’s wet. “You’re really loving this, aren’t you?” But she denies it. “We’ll never do it again, then,” I threaten, “if you don’t like it.”
“Don’t stop,” she says. “I don’t want you to stop.”
And so I don’t. I don’t stop until she begs me to fuck her. And we start the new year in the best possible way, only getting up once the day is half over. I love this year already.
*
We’re halfway through January, and two weeks with Rachel doesn’t seem like any time at all.
We went to the hospital a couple of days after New Year and had fun with the kids, dressed in the dog and rabbit costumes I ended up renting when they had no Tom and Jerry.
Lisa took us around the ward again. She was all smiles, happy to see us together, and to have something to take her little patients’ minds off their ailments, even for a short time.
We saw Robbie out of intensive care and it was great to see him smile at our antics. We didn’t have Santa gifts with us, but with permission from the nurses we brought candy the kids are allowed.
Back at the station, the guys constantly rib me all the time. They know about Rachel from Doug, but they tell me it won’t last, and make clock ticking noises. I know this is different, but only time will prove them wrong.
I want to tell Rachel every day how special she is, but I can never quite find the words. Is it too early to say it? I hope she knows it’s true, anyway.
CHAPTER 21
Rachel
As January turns into February, I fall more head over heels in love with Flynn than ever. It’s crazy all this has happened so quickly. After all the fuss about the bets and Flynn’s past, it feels like a big milestone that we survived more than a month.
He says the guys at the sta
tion go on at him about being tied down now, but he doesn’t care. He never did. According to him, it’s that kind of joking around they all do at the station. Like brothers who won’t let each other get away with anything. He takes it all and gives back as much as he gets.
Part of me can’t believe Flynn is still with me, but at the same time I couldn’t bear to think it wouldn’t last. I go about with a big smile on my face like I won the lottery and Dancing with the Stars on the same night.
I stay at his place as much as he stays at mine. We even swap keys.
“He gave you the key to his house after only a few weeks?” Lisa says. “Good sign. Did you give him the key to your apartment?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
“No reason. Just good to know you trust each other. It took us six months to do that. This is going well. I’m so happy for you, and it means I can tell you now.”
“Tell me what?
“We set a date at Christmas. We’re getting married in October. Twenty-fourth.”
“That’s wonderful!” I squeal and give her a hug. “But you could have told me as soon as you knew.”
“I know, but it felt awkward with February coming up. Ben said I should tell you straight away, but I wanted to make sure you got through the evil date okay.”
“I don’t think of it as evil anymore.”
Lisa laughs and hugs me back. “It’s so good to see you happy again. Besides, I thought there was plenty of time to tell you before October. I want you to be my maid of honor. No one else would do, and I don’t want my maid of honor in tears over me getting married.”
“I wouldn’t do that, anyway. Maybe sentimental tears when you say your vows. Or tears of shame if you make me wear an awful dress.”
She laughs. “Huge ruffles and bows in a nice puce color.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
