Page 42 of Praised
My apartment wasn’t anything like Flynn’s house and, up until Friday night, I thought I’d had a comfortable bed, a full size mattress I’d saved up to buy four years earlier. At the time, it was top of the line, or at least top of the line for my price range. I knew the pillow soft comfort of Flynn’s king size bed was in an entirely different comparison bracket.
I loved my apartment. The colors, the memories, the mismatched items that I’d pieced together over the years. All of it felt like home to me, and even though I’d understood Flynn more in his vast and sterile living space, it had to be miserable and lonely. So many sharp edges, so much white.
“I’ll let you know before I go over there next time so you don’t worry,” I promised.
“If there’s a next time?”
“I expect one.”
And that wasn’t arrogance or pride. I really just had the impression that, for whatever reason, Flynn liked me. With his looks and his money, he could have his pick of probably any person in the entire city, but he’d set his sights on me. Or his friend had set his sights on me and I got to enjoy the fallout. Either way, I wasn’t mad about it and I was happy to see it through as far as it would go.
“Is…” Drake’s tone took a serious dip. “Is he a good guy?”
“Do you think I would have spent the night with him twice if he wasn’t?”
“I’ve spent the night with some assholes, Rose. Assholes generally know how to fuck.”
“He knows how to fuck,” I said. “But as far as I can tell, he’s a good guy.”
“Do I get to meet him?”
The alarm on my phone started to chirp and I sat up with my back against the wall, stretching my legs out straight and wiggling my toes. “You definitely don’t get to meet him.”
“Rude.”
I tapped the alarm button on the screen of my phone to silence it. “I have to get ready for work, but I really am sorry I didn’t let you know where I was. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“You better,” Drake grumbled. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up the call and tossed my phone onto the nightstand, then I rolled over onto my stomach and screamed into my pillow.
I didn’t want to be excited about Flynn, but how could I not be?
He was older than me. He was established and competent. He was handsome and he was amazing in bed. And not once had he balked at my underwear. I’d honestly expected him to try and steal a pair for as fascinated as he was with them, and the fantasy of Flynn mouthing my cock through some sinfully expensive satin or silk was enough to get me dangerously hard.
“Not now,” I told myself as I climbed out of bed.
As much as I hated the idea of washing the weekend away, I desperately needed to get the sweat from sex off of me before going in for another shift. And more than that, I had to get Flynn off my mind so I could focus on work, at least temporarily.
Begrudgingly, I shuffled into the shower, where I did an admirable job of washing my cock and balls. I’d even switched the shower head over to the nozzle attachment so I could clean out in case I had another unexpected visitor at the end of my shift.
I liked that Flynn wasn’t scared of getting on his back and taking a cock up his ass, but I very much enjoyed spreading my cheeks for him to pummel me right into the mattress too. I liked the way his mouth felt against my ass and I loved the way his cock felt in the back of my throat. There wasn’t a single thing about him that hadn’t brought me some form of pleasure, even the silent week we’d spent apart when I’d been under the delusion that Flynn had to be anyone besides himself to be deserving of me.
His pride and confidence had been on full display when he’d shown up at my work, proving me wrong over and over again. If I sat with the thought too long, I almost felt ashamed for the assumptions I’d made about him and the kind of person he was. Flynn wasn’t some typical, rich, Brentwood prick. He had money, but it wasn’t part of his personality, at least not in the way I’d expected it to be.
At every encounter, every turn, he proved my pre-conceptions about him wrong. And so it felt patently unfair of me to not give him a fighting chance. What I did know for certain, though, was that he wasn’t the one who had battles to fight to make things work.
It was me.
I was the one with the preconceived ideas and the hard lines about who I was and the things I wanted. Flynn wanted me back, but he also wanted a man—wantedmeto get on my knees and do as I was told.
Even if it was casual.
The idea of it had me rolling my eyes so hard it gave me a headache, and while I got dressed for work, I tried to turn the ideas of him over in my head. I didn’t think I had more questions for him, but I was ready to take him for another road test.
Thankfully, I didn’t think it would be terribly long until I saw him again, but I also knew the time couldn’t go fast enough.
I was already halfway to head over heels, and that didn’t sound like a good idea for anyone involved, least of all…
