Boxer briefs that give quite the show of the kind of heat he’s packing…
“You doing okay over there, babe?”
I blink past the fantasy fog and realize I’m just standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at him quite…crudely. Well, hell. Apparently, I’m a pervert.
Flynn quirks a questioning brow, and I bumble my way through an awkward nod, mumbling, “Mm-hmm,” as I head over to the coffeemaker.
“Coffee, huh? Seemed like you were headed in my direction.”
I glance over my shoulder and find him smiling at me in a way that makes me wonder if he has any clue how attractive he is.
Seriously. Why’s he gotta be so damn good-looking?
Hand to my hip, I turn around and face him with a cheeky grin. “Maybe I was. But now I’m thinking you should come over here.”
Flynn doesn’t hesitate to set down his newspaper, get out of his chair, and stride straight toward me. I’m in his arms between one beat of my heart and the next, and his lips move against mine, slowly provoking an ache to stir between my thighs.
He deepens the kiss and slides his hands into my hair, and I’m allll about the direction this is heading, but Flynn slows the movements of his lips until he ends our embrace with a soft press of his mouth to mine. “Morning, babe.”
A few seconds later, he’s back at the table with his newspaper in his hands and his eyes scanning the pages.
Um…excuse me? Hello? Please, sir, I’d like some more.
I stare at him, as if my eyes alone have the power to get his attention, but he doesn’t look up from his paper. Mind you, a paper that isn’t feeling as sexy as it did before. If anything, it’s now the world’s greatest literary cockblock, and it’s ruining my selfish need for more attention from Flynn.
Slightly annoyed and now far hornier than one woman should be upon just waking up and without her proper caffeine fix, I pour myself a cup of coffee and mentally prepare myself to lure the oblivious man at the kitchen table through other means.
Okay…think, Daisy. What’s sexy? What’s something that no man can resist?
Knowing full well that I’m currently wearing only a simple silk nightgown with nothing underneath, when I go to get my favorite French vanilla creamer from the fridge, I take my sweet, sweet time and make a show of bending over to reach the container from the middle shelf.
I’m talking, someone call the Academy and let them know there’s a new actress in town, any second Meryl Streep will be calling me for tips, kind of show.
When I feel the sensation of my nightgown sliding up my thighs, I know, I fucking know, that my milkshake that brings all the boys to the yard is on full display for Flynn.
Are you sure that’s what milkshake means in that song?
Frankly, no, I don’t know that, but whatever. Just work with me here.
I pretend to rummage around in the fridge—my ass and hoo-hah still hanging out in the wind—and then I steal a quick glance over my shoulder to check my target.
Is Flynn’s gaze resting joyously upon my ass? Nope. That would be a negative, ghost rider.
Not even kidding, the sexy bastard is still looking at his paper. I’m flashing goodies like it’s Mardi Gras and he’s got the beads, but he’s just reading the newspaper like it’s any ol’ Saturday morning that doesn’t include his wife practically spread-eagled in front of the fridge.
What is in that paper? The key to eternal life?
I’m starting to feel like a bit of a brat for being so annoyed that Flynn isn’t giving me attention, but damn it, that’s what I want. Throw a red dress on me and call me Veruca Salt because I want Flynn’s eyes on me and his hands on me and his big, perfect, beautiful cock inside me, and I want it all right now.
On a quiet sigh, I shut the fridge door and actually use the creamer for something other than an excuse for me to bend over and entice Flynn to show me his penis. But once I get my coffee all made and take a few sips, I decide to give it another shot.
Ain’t no rest for the wicked-ly horny, amirite?
Up on the counter with a little hop, I sit in the type of—hopefully—seductive position that has my body facing Flynn.
“Reading anything interesting over there?” I question as I make a point to spread my thighs as far as they can go.
“Just the usual shit.”
Four words. No eye contact. That’s it.
Okay, yeah, I’ve had about enough of this nonsense…
I hop off the counter and stride right over to the man who is apparently oblivious to all the “I’m horny for you” signs I’m sending his way. And it doesn’t take long for me to edge myself onto his lap, making damn sure I’m between him and that dumb newspaper that’s stealing all my thunder.
Flynn doesn’t react, though. Instead, he flips to the next page, something involving the business section, and even adjusts his hands so we can both read the paper together.
“Anything in particular you want to read, babe?”
Your penis. I’d like to read your penis.
“Nope.” I purse my lips.
“Here, can you hold this for a sec?” he asks and puts the newspaper into my hands.
“Sure.” I discreetly roll my eyes. “Love to.”
“Fantastic.”
I almost roll my eyes again, but when his big hands grip my ass and lift me off his lap for a brief second, I’m surprised to feel the warmth and hardness of his cock slowly sliding between my legs.
Oh myyyyyyy.
My nipples tighten. My pussy clenches. And over what feels like the longest seconds of my life, Flynn eases himself inside me until his cock is completely filling me up.
I’m talking, inch by motherfucking inch, he pushes his cock inside me. It all feels so good, so intense, that tears fill my eyes and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from shouting out over the soft music that’s still playing from the speakers.
But Flynn doesn’t say anything. He just fills me up and then gently takes the newspaper back out of my hands and goes back to reading. Hell, he even flips through three pages with me just sitting there, on his lap, with his cock inside me.
What is happening right now?
Whatever it is, it just might be the hottest, most confusing thing you’ve ever experienced.
I shift my hips, and the sensation that builds inside me causes a little moan to escape from my throat. This is…intense. And insane. And feels So. Damn. Good.
“You wanted my attention, that much was clear,” he whispers into my ear, and the warmth of his breath urges a shiver to roll up my spine. “So I’m going to tell you again—because it seems like you didn’t really hear me the first time…if you want sex, Daisy, all you have to do is ask.”
Oh, holy hell.
“What kind of attention does my girl need right now?” he asks and brushes his lips up the side of my neck. “Did she just want to feel my cock inside her? Or does she want more than that?”
“More,” I whisper back. “Lots more.”
He sets down the newspaper and places his big hands on my legs. With a squeeze, he spreads them until they’re as wide as they can go, completely astride his lap, and grazes his fingers from my knees to my inner thighs.
“You want me to fuck you?”