He slid into her aching void, filling her in a way that no other human being could.
Slowly, he moved within her, seating himself deeply. Then, rocking his hips in an unhurried swirl that reignited the simmering fire he had started in the kitchen, Flynn made love to her.
Hungrily, her body embraced him. So tightly she could feel the thick veins of him slide against her sensitive lining.
“I can feel your heart beat in every part of me,” Flynn murmured against her lips.
“Your body is so soft and tight, Isa. I’ll never get tired of the way it responds to me.” His lips collided with hers. The coiled heat flashed, and as Flynn’s body burrowed into hers, hitting deep, Izzy boiled up and over.
“Flynn,” she sobbed. Like a rogue summer storm, thunder and lightning flashed inside her, she screamed from the overload.
In the distance, she heard the echoes of her name being shouted as the fire crackled through her veins, lighting up her nerve endings.
“Flynn,” she sobbed, digging her nails into his back. “Flynn!”
“I’m here, baby, right here.” His voice was so raw it didn’t sound like him. Izzy opened her eyes as the last furious waves of the epic orgasms racked her. The earth moved within her as she beheld the awestruck eyes that gazed at her. He didn’t try to conceal the depth of what he felt.
His body slowed, cradling hers as she reentered the earth’s atmosphere.
Unable to collect her breath or control the emotion that filled her, Izzy shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed. She didn’t want to feel so much, but couldn’t imagine not feeling it with Flynn. God help her if she lost him.
Chapter Thirty-five
In that dreamy space between sleep and consciousness, Izzy idly ran her fingers through Flynn’s thick hair. His cheek was pressed to her heart, his warm breath teasing her nipple. From the heaviness of his body and deep even breaths, she knew he was asleep. She should be too, but she kept mentally pinching herself, afraid this was all a dream. A grand illusion her subconscious had concocted.
She was living a fairy tale. Whisked away to the handsome prince’s castle, where he made crazy beautiful love to her, all whilst protecting her from the big bad Russian ogre.
Izzy had never felt as safe as she did in Flynn’s bed. She could stay here forever. Wanted to.
Sighing heavily, she traced her fingers along his muscular arm and smiled when she realized where his hand was. Even in the unconscious depths of sleep, he possessively cupped the juncture between her thighs.
An emotional tremor passed through her. Her walls had simply crumbled when he pushed against them. She’d never had a chance. Not that she’d wanted one. Life with a man like Flynn wouldn’t ever be easy. He was headstrong, possessive, protective, and a controller.
The battles that lay ahead would be epic, and, she smiled, so would the making up.
Her thoughts abruptly shifted direction when she thought of her mother and how much she would have liked Flynn. Then she thought of Alex and her mood darkened.
Izzy refused, despite the danger she might be in, to abandon her sister now.
Did Justin’s team have any information on her whereabouts yet? How could Alex have simply vanished into thin air?
As much as she didn’t want to, was terrified to, how could Izzy not go back to the club? It was the only link to Alex.
On the other hand, Andre would be furious if she returned, and would most assuredly demonstrate that via his fists. Damn if she’d be his punching bag. Worry snaked through her. “Where are you, Alex?” she whispered. “Give me something to work with.”
The key, she realized, was getting that drive into Boris’s hands. Then she’d have to patiently wait for him to contact Flynn and make him an offer Flynn couldn’t refuse. Extortion and blackmail were serious crimes, and even with a slick attorney, Boris would have difficulty slipping out of some prison time. With that being the case, knowing he was going away, Justin could pressure him for information on Alex. But without the warrant, there would be no way to—wait, why not just hand over a drive without the listening device? Would it matter, so long as the end result was that Boris blackmailed Flynn?
Knowing Flynn would never agree to her returning to the club for any reason, even surrounded by an army of agents, Izzy made the decision not to discuss it with him. She would call Maddox and push him to that end on her own. Because despite the wonder that was her relationship with Flynn, her quest to find Alex had not been abandoned. If anything, she was more committed. Her gut told her that every minute Alex was gone, was a minute she might be closer to death.
Gingerly she slid from beneath Flynn’s heavy body and hurried into the bathroom. A few minutes later, having attended the usual morning tasks, she headed down to the kitchen wearing one of Flynn’s T-shirts.
Her bag was where Flynn had left it by the hall table. Digging her phone out, she scowled when she pressed the power button. It was dead. Instead of digging through her duffel for the charger, she strode into the kitchen and used Flynn’s on the counter. After she plugged the phone in, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, opened it, and took a long draught. The cold wet felt good going down. Her stomach growled. She was hungry. Again. The way she and Flynn went at it, she wouldn’t have to watch what she ate. Hell, she could eat like a horse and not gain an ounce.
Taking a banana from the fruit bowl, she started to peel it as she walked to the table, but stopped when she saw Flynn’s iPhone still positioned on the edge of the table, facing the chair they’d had so much fun in. Heat shimmered through her. Would she ever tire of Flynn’s touch? She loved how he just put it all out there. He was a shameless sexual adventurer. Because he was, she let go.
Trust was a powerful aphrodisiac. So too would be watching the video. Izzy quickly removed the dishes from the table and set them in the sink. Then she came back to the table and picked up Flynn’s phone. Anticipation ratcheted up her heart rate. She was dying to watch Syrupcapade.
But the phone was locked.
“Damn it,” she whispered. She really wanted to see the video. Sitting back in the chair, Izzy set the phone down. She ate the banana, never taking her eyes off the phone.
After finishing her snack, Izzy washed her hands. Coming back to the table, she picked up the phone, held it up to the overhead table light at an angle, and studied the prominent touch marks on the screen. Hmm, same numbers as her birthday. She hoped Flynn wouldn’t mind if she watched without him. Especially since she was going to take his phone to the bedroom and wake him up with her lips on his spectacular cock.
She unlocked the phone on the first try.
Sitting down, she smiled as she looked for the video. His notification light flashed, and she could see he had several text messages. Work, no doubt.
Yawning, Izzy looked toward the kitchen window and the grey light of dawn that had begun to infuse the room. She smiled when she noticed the daisy stem from the planter she had angrily thrown in the trashcan sitting in a shot glass full of water on the windowsill. Her heart lurched painfully against her chest. Even when Flynn thought all was lost, he’d tried to save the pink daisy. Yeah, they had it bad for each other.
The sun was coming up and if she didn’t get some sleep soon, she’d be useless later. She needed to contact Maddox, and the kitchen was a mess from the pancake adventure. And she really wanted to see the video and then wake Flynn up and show it to him. Just the thought of it had her squirming in her chair.
Finding the videos, she warmed when she saw the one she had made the first night they met. Resisting the urge to watch that one, she scrolled past it to the syrup encounter. As she tapped on the icon, the phone chirped with a notification.