“Oh. My. God,” she forces out, her words a staccato to match my hips.
“Yeah,” I agree with her, moving my hands to go over the top of hers on the headboard. “Your pussy is gonna remember me tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh,” she agrees.
“My cock is going to remember you too,” I admit then.
Truth is, I’m starting to think certain parts of me might never forget Daisy.
Daisy
After I lost my shit on Flynn about blindsiding me with his family dinner, he apologized and proceeded to wring my body dry with crazy, hot sex and an intense orgasm that still has my legs feeling weak.
Personally, I’m more than okay with that sequence of events. Even if half of them threw me for one hell of a loop.
Although, it’s a bit of a dangerous game. I mean, if every time I get mad at Flynn he gifts me with an actual apology and an orgasm, I might be tempted to start making up reasons to be mad at him.
Not to mention, I’m finding that during and after sex, Flynn is far more talkative and freer with his words. Which is how I managed to get him engaging in a round of pillow talk with me in the darkness of his bedroom.
“So, that’s Ty’s thing?” I question with a raise of my eyebrow. “He just brings random women to family events?”
“Pretty much.” Flynn smirks. “And it’s never the same woman twice.”
His brother Ty is quite the character. I mean, he just went along with the possibility that I was there as his date even though he didn’t even recognize me.
“What about your dad? Why wasn’t he at family dinner?”
“My dad left when we were kids,” Flynn whispers in answer to my question about the patriarch’s absence from the gathering. He strokes his fingers softly over the small of my back while I lie naked on my belly, my head turned on its side to face him on my pillow.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur back.
“I’m not,” Flynn declares easily, his position mimicking mine and his voice quiet. “He left five rowdy kids to be raised alone by a sweet woman who didn’t deserve abandonment. I don’t need a dick for a dad just to say I have one. I have Uncle Brad and Aunt Paula and my mom and my brothers and sister, and that’s all I need.”
I want desperately to add that he has me too, that I’m in his corner and always will be, but the truth is, I don’t really know. We’re an arranged marriage, designed and executed for the sole purpose of maintaining my residence in the country. But the night in Vegas and tonight—and the phone sex too—it’s all crossed a line into territory that I can’t quite explain.
There’s passion and intimacy and interest there—I can feel it between us—but as far as I can tell, that’s as far as any intentions go for Flynn. No matter our easy companionship or the explosive chemistry we have in the bedroom, when the clock strikes midnight on my immigration crisis, Cinderella will go back to LA again and the prince will move on with his life.
“I don’t have a dad either. Or a mom, for that matter. I grew up in the foster system in Canada.” Flynn’s fingers never stop moving on my back, but somehow it seems like the pressure of his touch changes or something. “I do have Gwen—she took me in when I was a teenager, but she’s not really a mother figure per se. She’s more of a slightly mature girlfriend.” I shrug into the soft linens of his—well, our—bed. “Nevertheless, I’m thankful for her. I don’t know where I’d be if she hadn’t made sure I got a chance to start adulthood on my feet.”
I chuckle a little as I realize how much Gwen and Flynn have in common. “And thanks to you, I don’t have a bashed-up face from my epic adulthood stumble.”
Flynn doesn’t say anything, as usual—though, he has been uncharacteristically open tonight—instead tucking a piece of my loose hair behind my ear.
My eyes feel suddenly heavy, the weight of the move and the dinner and the one-bed situation leaving me in a potent exhale. I blink against the lure of sleep, eager to hear more soft secrets from my fake husband, but the pull is too strong.
I’m no match for the solace of sleep, and the next thing I know, the only thing I see is the black backs of my eyelids.
Tuesday, April 23rd
Daisy
My toes curl and my calves tighten as I stretch my arms to the ceiling and blink through the soft morning sunlight cutting through the windows and across my comforter-covered body. I roll over immediately to stretch myself in the cat cow position, and it’s only when I’m done that I realize where I am—which is not in my LA apartment.