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So. What do we do for twenty minutes?
Flynn s eyes dropped as his hand went to Laurel s jeans, undoing her button and
zipper. She giggled.
He looked up. What?
Sorry. I can t get over how big your fingers are.
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Cara McKenna
He stared at his hands a moment.
Not just your fingers, I mean. All of you. She looked to his eyes, probably eight or
nine inches above hers, and she wasn t particularly short. How tall are you?
Six-three-and-a-half.
Damn.
He shrugged and went back to her pants, pushing the snug garment down her hips.
He sucked in a soft breath.
It was her turn to ask, What?
I dunno. Just your skin. You re so& white.
One of my roommates calls me Ghostie.
He shook his head. You re like that famous chick, what s her name?
Laurel knew exactly what name he was looking for but refused to supply it. Pale
skin and red hair, but she lacked Nicole Kidman s height and bone structure and
glamour and didn t feel like hearing their differences listed if Flynn made a project of
comparing them.
So what do we do now? she asked again.
You get in my bed and I figure a few things out about you before the beast returns.
If you re still in the mood.
She kicked off her jeans with gusto and jogged to toss herself across his rumpled
comforter. She heard him laugh at her enthusiasm as she stared into the maze of pipes
and vents traversing the ceiling, anticipating. His footsteps faded and the lights went
out. More steps, and a dim reading lamp clamped to one of the bedside shelves flipped
on. Flynn sat on the mattress, the heaviness of him thrilling Laurel deep down to her
marrow.
Lie on your side, he said. Away from me.
She complied and he slid up behind her, pressing his bare chest into her back,
pushing a hard, jean-clad thigh between her knees. He ran his warm palm up and down
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Willing Victim
her hip and made a soft noise, a whisper crossed with a grunt. His hand slid up her ribs
to cup her breast, the sensation tightening her legs around his.
I wanna know what you like, he said.
She realized that with his mouth this close and his tone hushed, the voice she d
found brash and a bit grating was actually rather sexy. She cleared her throat. Well,
I m here because I want to see what it s like to be with someone, you know& like you.
Have you thought about it? Since the last time you were here? His fingers
pinched her nipple gently, then rougher.
Yeah, I ve thought about it. A lot. She d gotten off about ten times in the last four
days, imagining fucking Flynn. No, not fucking Flynn being fucked by Flynn.
His hand moved down her belly to rest on her mound. Tell me.
Laurel hesitated. She d always been lousy at dirty talk.
Listen, kiddo, he said. I m a selfish prick, and I want to be the greatest fuck of
your life and ruin you for every man who comes after me. But I m not a mind reader, so
I need some help. Otherwise I could end up as the douchebag who s got shitty taste in
wine and totally traumatized you when you were thirty.
Twenty-nine.
So tell me, he breathed, right behind her ear. What do you want me to do to
you?
She took a deep breath, held it as his hand slid low, two fingers just barely pressing
into her lips through her underwear. I thought about everything you did with her,
she said. And what it d be like to do that with you.
What else? His fingers turned and ran up and down her crease, flooding her
pussy with heat and pressure. Confession became far easier.
I thought about you making me get on my elbows and knees, on your floor, like
you did with her.
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Cara McKenna
Uh huh. His touch intensified, his thigh pushing her knees wider as his fingers
strained against the cotton.
Except you tie my wrists, she said. And instead of telling me to keep my eyes on
the floor, there s like a mirror against the wall in front of me, so I have to watch you
while you fuck me. Her throat was tight, as tight as her pussy under his touch.
And how do I fuck you? he asked, voice turning harsh, hand slipping beneath her
panties, tickling her pubic hair before his fingers found her folds and banished all other
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