He takes a drink of his beer. “I have no idea. Now isn’t there something you’re supposed to be doing?”
I shake my head in frustration and amusement. Clearly he enjoys keeping me off balance in this new arrangement of ours. Still wondering what he’s up to, I go into the bedroom, where a rack of clothes is waiting for me—gorgeous dresses in various lengths and colors. And shoes… pair after pair of delicate, beaded, open-toed shoes, posed on top of their boxes.
“Flynn!”
He comes to the door, Fluff along with him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, but what’s all this?”
“Tenley dropped that off for you. We’ve got the Oscar nominee luncheon Monday and the Nominees Night celebration at Spago Monday night. She’ll be here that morning to help you get ready.”
“Is there some sort of list I could get of all these events?”
“I’m sorry. Yes, of course. I’ll ask Addie to get you something and make sure you’re included on all the emails going forward.” He pulls out his phone. “What’s your address?”
“It was my school address. I need to get a new one.”
“We’ll set you up with a Quantum address. Addie will take care of that for us.” He punches in a text and then grimaces. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“Emmett texted me. The meeting with the FBI agent is on for Monday morning.”
“Okay…”
“It’s not okay. We had nothing to do with it, and they’re wasting our time.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about. Let’s just talk to him and get it over with.”
“It’ll have to be early. I want you to have enough time to get ready for the luncheon.”
“I can do early.”
He sends off another text, presumably to Emmett, and puts the phone in his pocket. “I believe you were supposed to be doing something in here. I’ll leave you to it.”
“But… You still want to do that? Now?”
“Why not now? Your punishment has ended, and it’s time.”
“You’re not angry? About the FBI?”
“No, I’m not. We didn’t do anything, so we have nothing to be angry about, other than the inconvenience of it all. If you’re asking if I’d ever take anger or frustration or anything like that out on you, the answer is a definitive no. If I were truly angry about anything, having to do with you or not, I’d never lay a hand on you. You have my word on that.”
“Thank you for saying it, but I already knew that.”
With a quick nod, he turns and heads for the door. “I’ll be back. Be ready.”
As an independent woman, it should raise my hackles to be told what to do in that brusque tone. But it doesn’t raise my hackles. It turns me on because I know when he talks to me like that, pleasure will follow.
I go into the bathroom to brush my hair and teeth. Even though my body is sore and tired, I experience the now-familiar signs of arousal. I remove my clothes, and since I expect him to make me wait anyway, I decide to take a quick shower. After covering my body in the citrus-scented lotion that Flynn loves, I go to the bed and get into the position he’s requested.
My bottom is at the edge, my legs are propped apart, and I’m staring at the ceiling, waiting. That’s when the vibrating begins.
Damn him! He’s taking full advantage right up to the bitter end. If the vibration weren’t so arousing, I’d laugh at how he’s playing the game. But there is nothing at all funny about the way the vibrating plug sets my body on fire. Even after everything we’ve already done today, I’m primed for more by the time he enters the room, stopping the vibration with his arrival.
He has also showered. His hair is damp, he’s naked and fully aroused. “I love the way you do whatever I ask, that you’re game for anything.”
“I love that you’re sharing this side of yourself with me.”
“Even when I punish you by making you wear a plug for hours?”
“Even then.”
“You’ve been a very good sport.” He drops to his knees and flattens his hands on my inner thighs, pressing them farther apart.
I wince at the tug of overused muscles protesting the movement.
“Are you sore, sweetheart?”
“A little.”
“We were kind of crazy today.”
“We’re newlyweds. We’re supposed to be crazy.”
“There’s crazy—and then there’s today. I don’t want to push you too hard or too fast.”
“I know how to put a stop to it if I need to.”
“I like to hear you say that, to know you get it.”
I feel the scrape of his stubble against my inner thigh.
My body immediately arches toward him. The impulse is automatic. I want to be close to him. I need to be close to him. He opens me to his tongue and strokes my tender skin gently, soothing as much as arousing. I’m floating on a wave of sensation, and then the buzzing begins again. The next stroke of his tongue takes me right to the edge of madness.