Page 120 of Property of Rattler

While my mind was not totally on board, driven by instinct and need, I’d scooted up the bed, placed my knees where he’d instructed, and held on to the headboard for dear life. My cheeks burned knowing I was in such a vulnerable position.

It was then I realised, I was still wearing panties. Growing even redder, I’d prepared to reverse my actions so I could take them off, but he resolved the situation as he’d fisted the side of the offending garment and ripped it off.

“If you’ve damaged your shoulder again…” My threat came to nothing, as suddenly his mouth was there, his tongue gliding over my clit, making every nerve in it come to life.

“Oh yeah,” I breathed out, and felt as well as heard his vindicated chuckle.

He kept licking, sucking, making me feel sensations that I’d never felt before. So different to fingers or the anonymous feeling of a vibrator. And then, when he was satisfied I wouldn’t bolt if he removed his hands from me, he’d placed one finger, then two into my slit, and started his amazing torture there. When his tongue swapped position with his fingers, it was a delicious feeling to feel that slick warmth stabbing into me while his fingers strummed my clit.

I had no thought in my head other than the pleasure he was giving to me.

“Fuck, Jayne, your taste is as intoxicating as any liquor I’ve ever drunk. I want you to come all over my face. I want to drink your essence.” While he’d turned his head sideways to speak,his tongue and fingers had exchanged places again. And now he really worked that tender bundle of nerves, and made my stomach muscles clench. If I was suffocating him, I no longer cared, if I could smell my own musk in the air, it only excited me. I pushed down into him, trying to get him…

Yeah, right there.

“I’m close,” I cry out.

“Give it to me.”

His tongue felt so much different from his fingers, my whole body tensed, I automatically stilled as my muscles froze as I was reaching, reaching… And God help me, the most explosive orgasm I’d ever felt swept through me. I was so high, I was up among the stars. And he kept licking, prolonging the sweet agony.

Though when it was too much and I tried to pull away, he’d let me.

I smile a secret smile to myself. Yeah, while Flynn’s been healing, we’ve had to get inventive. After the first week we’d been getting each other off in any position we could invent to keep pressure off his legs. Legs, which at last, began healing. His face no longer contorted in agony when he tried to walk and he’d ditched the crutches. But while he was semi-mobile, his problems still remained—he couldn’t bend his knees, and putting full weight on his legs still gave him pain, so his pace was slow and awkward.

We never moved to his room in the bunkhouse. Freak and Trixie’s has become ours now. And that was all down to Ace. I’ve learned the teenager is a wizard with tech, and he’s decided to program a new game—think bikers on steroids. He’s autistic, which didn’t come as too much of a surprise once I’d gotten to know him, he’s so single focused. And being intent on spending every hour when he was allowed coding, he wanted to stay home with his computers, (yeah, plural, apparently one wasn’t enoughfor him), rather than with his nana. Freak and Trixie had given in. Of course, at sixteen, they didn’t need to be with him twenty-four seven, but after their evenings at the clubhouse, they went home. In that scenario, Freak couldn’t come up with a rationale to keep one of the best rooms at the clubhouse relatively unused.

The vacancy was put up for a club vote, and Flynn, as the only brother with an old lady, was allowed first dibs. We didn’t need to think about accepting.

We’ve made it ours. Rattler’s moved his stuff in, and my meagre belongings have joined his.

Flynn was going to be a rich man. There was no argument, my inheritance of ten million was on its way to him once the legal niceties were completed, together with five thousand, the remainder from the insurance payout after paying Volkov off. Thank fuck we’d been legally married, or he’d have gotten nothing. Flynn and I had discussed the money, and decided we didn’t want it. We proposed putting one million aside for our future and letting the club have the rest. From our share, we’ve already put a down payment on the labour and materials for a house to be built on the compound—of course, having to wait until Short’s and Freak’s are completed.

One problem though. Amethyst Stone was dead, so to the outside world, Flynn was a widower. He wasn’t married to Jayne Rushton, a name that I’d picked. To make it legit, we’d have to get married again. Something Rattler wasn’t in a rush to do, though his reluctance wasn’t due to any phobia about commitment, it was more his concern about who’d perform the ceremony. Once I’d been filled in on the stories, I fully understood. I suspect a trip to Vegas might be in our future — rather than Smooth or Words, we’d be married by Elvis. I remain unconvinced that was much better.

“Earth to Jayne.”

Shaking my head, I realise I’ve been lost in my thoughts, poised with the coffee pot hovering over the cup. Giving a quick grin to Tempest, I pour my drink, then pass him the pot.

The kitchen is full of the aroma of breakfast cooking, the club girls all in action. I’ve come to accept them as a necessary evil, as long as they stay clear of me, and don’t make a move on my man. Which, of course, they wouldn’t. They don’t know him like I do.

“Hey,” Tempest starts conversationally. “You think you might be able to keep the screams down? I could hardly sleep last night.” Blushing red, I turn to him, remembering he’s got the room next to ours, and notice him giving me a wink. “I mean, all the moans, of ‘oh, Rat, there. Just there, Rat,’ is kinda distracting to a single man. How many fuckin’ orgasms did he give you?”

I know he’s joking. I always call my man Flynn. Still, I don’t think my face could burn any brighter. Then I realise we’ve got an audience of the three club girls, who are switching their bemused glances between me and the sergeant-at-arms.

He’d winked. He’d done it on purpose.Primly, I shrug. “What can I say? I lost count. My man knows how to satisfy a woman.” I almost feel sorry for Star, Heaven and Sweetie, and what they’d been missing. “You’ll just have to invest in some earplugs.”

“There you are.” Flynn enters, walking stiffly, but moving more freely than yesterday. Each day he seems to be improving. “What?” he asks, when he notices he’s suddenly the object of everyone’s attention.

“Nothing.” Heaven’s the first to recover. “Want me to get you both a plate?” She grins. “Sounds like you need it to keep up your stamina.”

Flynn looks at me with his brow raised. I point to Tempest. “Blame him. He was complaining about the noise we were making.”

Tempest doesn’t look contrite as he points to me. “You, not him.”

Understanding dawns on Flynn, and he grins. “What can I say? And yeah, Heaven, top my plate right up. I need sustenance to keep up with my woman’s needs.”

The club girls start plating up, and when Star comes over to me and hands me my breakfast, she whispers into my ear. “You’re a lucky bitch.”