The Mighty Flynn

Geena’s eyes flew wide as her head jerked back up. She stared at Russ, seeing the darkness in his eyes anew. It wasn’t shock. It wasn’t disgust. It washunger. And, looking down, Geena realized his erection was back. Not only back—it was straining at his pants.

With a quick, practiced motion, Flynn yanked her back against his hard frame. She could feel his rigid shaft straining against her ass as he pinched her nipples mercilessly, making her writhe and gasp.

“Flynn, stop.” Russ’s words were hoarse with desperation—and desire. Hearing it, Geena found she couldn’t breathe at all for a moment, and the room around her seemed to whirl as her body went limp with agonized need.

“Do you want me to stop, Geena?” Flynn whispered in her ear. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you go.”

She swallowed convulsively, her eyes fixed on Russ’s.

The silence spun out. Then Flynn’s breath stirred her hair as he murmured over her shoulder, triumphant amusement coloring his voice, “It appears, Russ, that I’ve got the perfect wedding gift for you.”

She could feel him moving behind her, but he held her firmly and she couldn’t turn to see what he was doing. Her gaze was still locked on Russ’s, and he stared back at her, as frozen as she. So many assumptions both of them had made! And they could so easily have gone their entire lives, never knowing the truth.

Geena wondered fleetingly what would have happened if she hadn’t overheard Flynn, hadn’t snuck into the kitchen. Then Flynn yanked the silk robe off her, and before she could react, she felt something tighten around her wrists—and realized she was about to find out what was going to happen because she had.

There are penalties for spying.

“Don’t move,” Flynn whispered.

He let her go, and she stood still as a post as he walked away. He returned with her discarded shoes and, lifting her feet one at a time, slid the four-inch stilettos back on her feet. Then he circled her, looking her up and down.

As his gaze raked over her, Geena felt herself growing even wetter with anticipation.

“No, wait,” Flynn said. “One thing more.” Scooping up her dropped cat mask, he lowered it back over her face and regarded the results with a satisfied smile. “Yes. Yes, that’s the little kitty who wanted to play.”

Snagging a chair from beneath a nearby counter, he drew it toward her and sat down, his knees spread. “Now, little kitty cat, bring me those tits.”

Nervously, Geena glanced at Russ.

Flynn barked impatiently, “Now, kitty! Or no cream for supper.”

Blushing furiously, Geena shuffled forward, feeling doubly awkward with her hands tied behind her. As she moved, she felt the soft thwap of leather against her thighs, and realized Flynn had used his belt to bind her wrists. The buckle was pressed against the back of her right wrist, and the extra leather hung down, slapping her legs softly with every step. The sensation made her acutely aware of her body, naked but for the skimpy g-string, her pink, tender flesh exposed to the two watching men.

She stopped in front of Flynn, her chin tilted downward, aware of nothing but the excitement thrumming through her nerves and pulsing in her clit. She didn’t dare raise her head. Flynn would see her arousal in her eyes, she knew it.

“Very good,” he murmured. “But you were so eager before. I thought you were going to push your tits right into my face. You wanted to, didn’t you, Geena?”

“Yes,” she whispered.