Page 29 of Praised
“I have more money than sense,” he offered with a careless shrug, like we’d been talking about the weather forecast and not his stalking.
It was as much of an answer as I’d expected a man like Flynn to give. It was quick, honest, and to the point. Much like him, I realized.
“I’m inclined to agree.” I leaned against the closed driver’s side door and Flynn stepped around to face me, effectively boxing me in. It should have made me nervous. Everything about him should have been intimidating. From the way he carried himself and the resources at his disposal right down to the way he fucked. There was no doubt Flynn was a threat. Or he should have been. Instead of being scared of him, though, I was hard.
“I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he murmured and heat rushed up my throat. Without thinking, I covered my cheeks with my hands, and the corner of his mouth tipped into a grin before falling back flat. “And I needed to clear some things up for you.”
I huffed, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Do you?”
“Yes,” he answered, tone solemn. The tip of his tongue traced over his top teeth and his chin tilted toward his chest as he leaned in a little closer, like he was about to whisper. “I don’t need to change for you, Rose. I can—and will—give you everything you deserve, and more, just as I am right this very moment.”
“Will you now?” The question came out embarrassingly raspy, and I cleared my throat, letting my arms fall to my sides.
There was no point of defense with Flynn. He would tear right through it if it pleased him to do so.
My concession seemed to take him by surprise, but just a flicker in the dark pools of his eyes that anyone else would have missed were they not watching him as intently as I’d been.
As I still was.
“If it’s what you want,” he said, somewhat softer.
“Is it what you want?”
“I only count for half of it.”
I arched a brow, and he took a step closer. “That sounds decidedly not casual.”
“I think maybe that’s the only change I need to make for you,” he whispered.
The words, and his breath, dusted across my cheeks as he said it, and my lashes fluttered before falling closed. Maybe it would be easier to not look at him because something about the way he looked at me made me forget that he was a predator and I was very much his prey. His money, his demeanor, his words, all of them weaved together to make the most dangerous form of camouflage I’d ever seen another person wear.
“Is that an offer?” I asked.
Gently, his nose rubbed across the skin just over my eyebrow, his lips grazing against my temple in the promise of a future kiss.
“The night we met,” he whispered the words against my skin, “you called me Sir.”
“And you told me I hadn’t earned the right.”
Flynn cupped his hand around the back of my neck, holding me steady. “Do you want to?”
“Call you Sir?”
He shook his head. “Earn the right.”
I pressed the back of my neck into the cradle of his hand, content to let him support me there, at least for a few seconds. Flynn peppered kisses across my forehead, over my closed eyelids, and down my cheekbones. I moaned quietly and shamefully, leaning away from the car to chase after the warmth of his body. I’d never forget what he looked like naked, what he’dfeltlike against my skin. Even with his words ringing alarm bells in my head, my brain focused itself solely on his closeness, his presence. And I wanted more.
I wasn’t what some people would consider worldly. I wasn’t sheltered either, but I knew there were a lot of things outside of my comprehension and even my interest. I’d seen enough porn to know about BDSM and some of the ways that could look. My cock had gotten hard on more than one occasion at the sight of a man on his knees for another, for the tender touches and even the rough ones. To say I didn’t see the appeal of it would have been lying. But wanting it as a fantasy and playing it out in real life felt like two very different things.
Flynn was a dominant man. I’d known that from the first moment I laid eyes on him. From the way he commanded the room to the way he commanded me, I’d been under no delusions that just because he’d gotten onto his back for me meant he’d ever get on his knees. And I didn’t think I wanted him there. It would have been awkward and unnatural, undoubtedly for us both, but the thought of me being the one to assume that role turned my blood into ice.
I had fought so hard against so many people to find my personality, my power, and to throw all of that progress away for a pretty man with a perfect asshole and a sinful mouth?
It would be wasteful, but maybe worth it.
“I’m not a submissive,” I said.
“I know,” he answered quickly.
