Page 62 of Praised
I was always pretty, or cute, or something as equally diminutive. Because I was small and slight, and apparently those bigger words were only reserved for bigger people. But hearing them directed at me with such a staggering kind of sincerity… I wanted to believe them.
Wanted to believe him.
“Am I looking at you like you suck my cock better than anyone I’ve ever met?” He stood, an erection visible behind the soft cotton sleep pants he wore. “Because you do.”
“It’s just the gag reflex,” I mumbled, suddenly uncomfortable with the praise.
“It’s not.” He adjusted his erection, moving his hips to the side as he pulled his palm over his length. “It’s your lips and your mouth. Your tongue. It’s the way you look at me with those ethereal blue eyes of yours, tears streaking out the corners as I slide into the back of your throat like it was made for me.”
It was my turn then to adjust my own erection, quickly growing behind the knotted sheets in my fist.
“It’s the way when you lay with your head off the bed, I can trace the length of my shaft as it stretches your throat and you touch yourself at the same time because you like it so much…” His voice caught on the last word and he trailed off. “You like how I worship you with my hands and my words. My body.”
“If you don’t stop talking like that, we’re never getting out of the house,” I said, even though there was nowhere for us to go, no plans for us to keep. Just Flynn and his money desperate to buy me sexy panties that he could take off of me, ready to give me a thousand orgasms and a hundred meals, or whatever he’d said before. It was just these promises between us that shouldn’t have meant anything, but instead meant everything.
“Am I looking at you like when you’re not here and I jerk off, I think about you fucking me?” he asked, closing the space between us and covering my hand with his own. I loosened my grip and he held the sheet between his fingers before it could fall.
He was, actually.
He was looking at meexactlylike that.
“Do you?” I managed to ask, even as it was hard to keep my eyes open, hard to stand in front of him and not put him on his back and do just that.
“I don’t believe I’ve stopped thinking about you since the first second I laid eyes on you,” he said softly, biting the tip of his tongue between his canines. “I’m worried I’m never going to think about another man ever again.”
Another feeling blossomed in my chest, just as dangerous as happiness, but even more catastrophic. I let go of the sheets and pulled my hand out of his, rubbing a slow circle on my sternum to alleviate the tenderness there.
“Would that really be so bad?” I asked with a weak laugh, already knowing the answer was yes.
CHAPTER21
FLYNN
“The two of you are a nightmare,”I muttered, stare flicking back and forth between Grayson and Archie, who hadn’t shut the fuck up since I arrived at Archie’s house twenty minutes prior for an impromptu Sunday brunch.
“Just wait your turn.” Archie waved me off without even a glance, his attention still solely focused on Grayson, who looked more bored than I’d ever seen him, and that was saying something because historically Rob kept him on his toes.
“Well, let’s ask Flynn what he thinks,” Grayson said, which brought both of their stares level with mine.
I grabbed Archie’s lemonade and took a swallow, which earned me a smack in the arm. But it was his house and he hadn’t even bothered to offer me a drink when I got there. Desperate times and all that.
“What do I think about what?”
Archie sighed. “Grayson doesn’t want to move in with Rob.”
“I don’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to live there either,” I said. “The lack of window dressing in his house is disturbing.”
“All of you rich assholes are obsessed with glass,” Grayson snapped.
Much like mine, Rob’s house was an ode to modern architecture with lots of white walls and giant plate glass windows. I was fairly certain the downstairs library at his house was the only room that had curtains, the rest of the space nearly constantly drowning in natural light. It was a look, that was certain, but I’d at least built up the back yard a bit around my own place so the sunrise didn’t feel like waking up on the surface of the sun itself.
“I am sure he would let you hang curtains,” Archie said.
“There’s no place for them!” Grayson threw his hands up. “The glass goes all the way up.”
“Redesign it,” I suggested.
“Rob would never.”
