Page 87 of Praised
“I don’t make a habit of watching.”
Flynn dragged me to a stop and brought his lips against my ear, immediately sending a shiver up my spine. “We’ll have to change that very soon then, won’t we?”
“Will we?”
He made an affirmative hum in the back of his throat and resumed walking toward the stairs.
The night had been awesome. Watching Grayson and Dalton rig someone up to the ceiling before making him come and cry at the same time was insanely hot, and Flynn’s hands all over me the whole time hadn’t hurt the situation at all either. The ease with which his friends accepted me into their little group made me feel like I belonged, not just with them, but also with Flynn.
“Trophy Doms!” Grayson stood up from his perch on Rob’s lap and swirled his finger in the air. “Assemble.”
“You’re laughable,” Dalton said, even as he stood.
“Wait, Trophy Doms?” I asked.
Grayson laughed, his posture a little wobbly from all the drinking he’d done after his little scene earlier in the night.
“The whole lot of them,” he explained. “Easy on the eyes with bank accounts to match. All of them a catch except Flynn, of course.”
“What the fuck, Grayson?” Flynn scoffed at the barb.
“With a couch like that.”
I laughed, bringing our joined hands to my mouth and dusting a kiss across his knuckles.
“The couch is bad,” I reminded him before turning toward Grayson. “But you know that you’re one of them, right?”
“I am not.” Grayson folded his arms across his chest like a child, which earned a quick smack on the ass from Rob, who also stood.
“You are,” Owen agreed, head resting on Archie’s shoulder.
The night had been fun, but long, and it was clear in everyone’s body language it was time to pack it in. I didn’t think last call was far off anyway, so better to get out ahead of things.
“You’re kidding me.”
“Your shoes are six hundred dollars,” Rob said. “You’re not excluded from the club just because you’re new.”
“What about them?” Grayson waggled his finger between Owen and me.
“We’re lucky,” Owen said, giving Archie’s hand a tug. “And I’m about to get luckier if you could go have your identity crisis elsewhere.”
“I was going to invite you back to the house, but not after that,” Grayson mumbled.
Rob laughed and wrapped him in a hug, and I loved the way he dwarfed Grayson, arms coming fully around him and protecting him from the—very warranted—accusations against his character.
“I’ll be taking Rose home,” Flynn said, “To fuck him on that horrible couch of mine.”
“Rose.” Grayson untangled himself from Rob’s arms. “Be sure to stain it beyond repair so he has to get a new one.”
I laughed again and promised him I’d do my best, but halfway down the stairs Flynn said to me, his expression earnest and sincere, “You know if you hate it so much, I’d replace it anyway.”
“It’s your couch,” I said, thinking back again to my conversation with Owen and Grayson earlier in the night. I had to take all of Flynn, money and bad taste included, just like had had to take all of me, even the doubt and insecurities that I didn’t think I’d be able to ever fully shake.
“I want you to be comfortable in my home,” he said.
We reached the bottom of the stairs. The crowd had noticeably thinned out from earlier in the evening, so finding Drake’s pink hair in the middle of the dance floor was easy and also unexpected. Even more unexpected, the man he was with.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, suddenly all too aware of the nakedness under my shorts, the air against my cock and balls, the tension that immediately took root in my chest.
