The Stir of Echo
Susan Gabriel
0-9802246-0-8

Erotic Paranormal Romance
180 paperback pages
Multi-format ebook $3.99
Paperback $10.95
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Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Neighbor

Flynn paced the floor of his bedroom. From his window he could see the ginger-haired woman carrying bags of groceries from her car. Chivalry nagged him to rescue her from the burden of the parcels, but he refrained. He had flustered her last night with his bold introduction; it had been a stupid move. You just didn’t go around startling women in the dark at their doorway. He considered himself lucky that he avoided a face full of pepper spray.

He should probably take things more slowly, but time was running short. There was so much to do and so few days in which to make it all happen. He had waited longer than his memory could search. He had bided his time for her to be in this precise place at this precise moment in her life. His desire, coupled with the urgency of his business, had caused him to act rashly.

All in all it was a satisfying initial meeting, but something had spooked her near the end. He needed to concoct a plan that would allow him to spend time with her today without scaring her off. He would need an excuse, something not too threatening, and not too flirtatious. It was imperative that he gained her trust. Without that, nothing could go as planned.

Flynn screwed up his courage, tried unsuccessfully to put the disobedient lock of hair back in its proper place on his head, and winked confidently at his reflection in the mirror.

***

A mammoth bouquet of hydrangea blossoms greeted Echo as she opened the door.

“Delivery for Miss Sullivan.”

The dusty pink and amber of the October blooms obscured the deliverer from Echo’s view.

Echo was certain they had the wrong house.

“Who are you looking for again? I think you probably have the wrong house.”

“No, right house, right girl…these are a housewarming gift.”
The deliverer laid the flowers in Echo’s arms. Golden rays from the afternoon sun silhouetted the man standing in the doorway. He beamed a sparkling smile in her direction.

“Oh my God, Flynn…you have to be kidding me? I can’t believe this. You shouldn’t have done… I barely know you.” Echo stammered.

“Echo, please, before you go getting your conkers in a knot, it wasn’t any big deal. I…uh…well…I sort of nicked them from your garden.” Flynn shrugged his shoulders, crinkled his eyes, and raised one eyebrow in a boyish, ‘sorry ‘bout that’.

Echo chuckled to herself. This guy was so adorably smooth he could charm the panties off a Puritan.

“Oh really?” Echo replied. “Well, at least you’re an honest thief, if there is such a thing.”

“I may be a thief of sorts, but you, girl, have terrible manners,” Flynn teased. “This is twice now I have tried to be neighborly and you have left me standin’ at the door.”

“Well, this is twice that you have taken me by surprise, so I consider us even.”

“You have a valid point.” Flynn confirmed.

Echo wondered who made him the manner’s police anyway. “Look, I don’t know how it’s done in the suburbs, but where I come from women not only do not invite strange men into their homes, they use a triple set of deadbolts to keep them out. I don’t mean to be rude…

“No, I was wrong. I’m not as familiar with your country as I should be. I’m not used to being regarded with suspicion. Where I come from, we don’t even lock our doors.”

“Geez, that must be nice.” Echo couldn’t imagine a place where they didn’t have to be concerned about muggers and rapists and terrorists, or any of the other million and one fears that she had grown accustomed to living with.

Flynn shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes cast bashfully downward. “I guess I’ll just be on my way then. I’m sorry to bother you. You know where I live if you would like to pop over for a cup of tea sometime. The door’s always open.”

As he turned to leave, Echo realized that she didn’t want him to go. He really did seem like a nice guy and despite his confidence, he appeared sort of lost. He had been so polite and she had acted like the Ugly American.

“Wait,” she called out, grasping his elbow. “How about I throw caution to the wind and invite you in for a bit?”

He turned, one eyebrow raised in a questioning look. “No, I don’t want to be a pest,” he protested. “I’ll just take off.”

Echo tugged on his elbow, directing him into the doorway. “I insist. Won’t you please come in?”

He smiled, his perfect white teeth contrasting sharply against his tanned skin. “If you insist… I’ll come in for minute, but I promise I won’t stay too long.” Flynn had to turn sideways to get through the door so as not to crush the bouquet in her arms.

As he passed, his scent mingled with the sweet, green fragrance of the flowers. He smelled unpolluted and wild, as if he had just emerged from some great forest with the aroma of earth and leaves and pine needles still clinging to his skin. The feminine atmosphere of Echo’s house now crackled with testosterone.

“Watch your step. Sorry about the boxes,” Echo apologized. “I was just starting to unpack them when you knocked. I better put these flowers into some water. Would you like something to drink? An ice tea, maybe…cup of coffee, shot of tequila?”

“Seein’ as it’s only three in the afternoon, I think I’ll opt for the coffee, but you go ahead and have anything you like.” He sure was a sarcastic little bugger. “Thanks for the permission. Follow me to the kitchen and I’ll take care of the flowers and you at the same time.”

 Echo wanted to thrash herself in the head with the hydrangeas. What in the hell did I say that for? That sounded like a line straight out of a soap opera. Oh God, he probably thinks I was coming on to him! Just start walking, maybe he didn’t catch it.

As nothing never, ever got past Flynn, he had picked up on her Freudian slip and suppressed a laugh, but could not stifle a mischievous grin.

“In truth,” explained Flynn as he took a seat at the yellow kitchen table. “I was thinkin’ that perhaps you might be needin’ some help unpacking and getting things set right around here. I drive a pretty mean screwdriver when I want to and I am not bad with heavy lifting either.”

“You don’t say?” exclaimed Echo, setting the cup of coffee on the table. “Sugar?”

“No trouble at all…darlin’.”

For a split second Echo was confused, and then feeling foolish, she realized that he was teasing her. Why did she act like such an imbecile when this man was around?

“You are quite the kidder, aren’t you? Echo goaded. “You know the old saying, that the world can tolerate a dumbass but nobody likes a smart ass. Well, mister smartass, you’re on. You have just snickered your way into a heap of manual labor.”

Flynn sipped his coffee, peeking innocently over the rim of the cup.
“You can finish your coffee, and then come and join me in the foyer. I hope you ate your Wheaties today because I love to read, and I have lots of boxes of heavy books.”

Echo walked out of the kitchen door, calling over her shoulder, “Be careful what you wish for, Flynn…you just might get it!”

***

Echo detected his scent before she heard his footsteps in the hallway. Bent over a large carton marked “Bedroom” in fat red marker, she looked up as Flynn walked towards her. He had removed his shirt. The vision of unabashed virility put Echo in a state of suspended animation. Swelling pectoral muscles and wide, brawny shoulders sloped into the flat, undulating surface of his abdomen. A trail of small black hairs began just below his navel and traveled southward, vanishing beneath his belt buckle.

Taken aback by the sight, Echo stared with mouth agape. Absentmindedly, her hand slackened, releasing a box cutter which fell to the floor, nicking her toe on the way to the ground. A stinging sensation throbbed in her toe, but it could not distract her attention from Flynn’s sexy six-pack.

 “Hope you don’t mind, but it’s awfully warm today, and that is a new-ish shirt,” Flynn implored.

Uncharacteristically speechless, Echo stared, spellbound by this specimen of sublime masculinity.

“Well, it’s white, too,” Flynn continued. “You know how hard it is to get a stain out of a white shirt?” Flynn’s expression changed to one of surprise. “Oh, Jaysus, you’re bleedin’!” He exclaimed.

The urgency of his voice awakened Echo from her daydream. What was he talking about? She followed the direction of his gaze to where a pool of blood was forming under her lacerated foot.

 Flynn rushed to her and grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her to her feet. “Come on, come on, girl...let’s get a look at that!”

Flynn hoisted Echo up, supporting her on his arm as he led her towards the kitchen. She leaned helplessly against him, feigning a pain that she did not feel, and gripped her hand around his flexed bicep for support. The muscle tightened and rippled beneath her palm. Echo squeezed the dense bulge, testing it for firmness. It was beautifully non-yielding.

His arm encircled her waist, and scooped her off her feet, then deposited her atop the kitchen counter.

 “Swing your foot up into the sink,” Flynn instructed, turning on the water and testing the temperature with his hand.

Echo placed her foot inside of the bowl. Flynn supported her foot in his hand as the water rushed over the laceration. She watched the ribbons of blood, first brilliant red then fading to pink, wash against the white porcelain and swirl in hypnotic arcs down the drain.

No one spoke.

She shifted her gaze to rest on his unclothed form. Her lecherous gaze spellbound, enticed by the droplets of water splashing on his naked chest. She had the urge to lick them, one by delicious one, from his damp flesh.

Flynn leaned his body into hers. Echo closed her eyes, turning her face upwards in anticipation of their lips meeting in a kiss.

“Excuse me there darlin’,” Flynn cooed, “but could you skooch over just a bit so I can reach those paper towels sitting behind you?”

Echo’s eyes snapped open. Oh God I am such an idiot! Please tell me I did not just do that! I’m behaving like a hormonal teenager!
Echo scooted to the right and Flynn retrieved the towels, wadding them up and wiping her foot dry. He dabbed at the cut until the blood began to clot.

“There, that should hold it for a second,” he said, swiveling her around so her legs dangled off the edge of the counter. Brandishing a finger in front of her face he scolded, “Now you stay here. I will be right back with a bandage.”

For a split second, Echo thought he said that he would be right back with a bondage. Echo mustered a weak nod.

Flynn dashed off to rummage in the bathroom for first aid supplies. Echo sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, absentmindedly chewing her fingers in a state of sexual tension. Not only was Flynn the hunkiest man she had ever met, but she was astonished to realize that she really liked him! He made her laugh, he made her think, he was thoughtful, and caring. So far he added up to the total package. She marveled that just the night before she had been sitting in this very same spot fantasizing about this very same fellow, and here he was right now, half-naked, and fixing her boo-boo to boot.

A disembodied female voice boomed into Echo’s ears. “This is not a man you will be able to wrap around your finger, Delores!”

That was completely random—and a bit rude, too. Her blood simmered at the unseen interruption of her daydream.

“If I see Delores, whoever that is, I will be sure to tell her,” Echo hissed to the ghostly visitor. “You don’t have to scream.”

Flynn strode into the room proudly displaying mercurochrome, a cotton ball and a roll of white tape. Echo imagined playing doctor with him. She’d like to show him where it hurt.

 He stood between Echo’s dangling legs, lifting her injured foot to his chest. His skin was comfortingly warm against the sole of her foot. A single drop of blood oozed from the cut and ran down the side of her big toe, sliding onto Flynn’s chest.

While Flynn busied himself with bandaging, Echo’s eyes followed the path of the blood as it descended his torso.  The thick crimson droplet coursed along his stomach, trailing a sticky scarlet ribbon over his rectus abdominus, dipping in and over the rolling hills of his muscles. It veered just to the left of his navel, and then silently disappeared beneath his trousers.

A wave of internal heat caused miniscule beads of perspiration to blossom on her skin.

“There you are. All bandaged…oh, I almost forgot…a kiss it to make it better.” Flynn lifted her foot to his lips and placed a kiss on the injured area. Even though his lips only touched the bandage, Echo did feel better, much better.

He lowered her foot. He was standing between her legs, her knees touching his hips. His penetrating gaze honed in on her face, mesmerizing, but unsettling at the same time. What was he staring at her for? Was there something on her face? Echo wiped her cheeks, searching for the offending crumb.

 “I have the sudden urge to kiss you,” he said. “Would you mind if I kissed you… on the lips?”

On the lips, on the neck, Echo would have allowed his
mouth to roam anywhere that he desired.

“Oh, yes,” she breathlessly agreed. “I think I’d like that.”

Flynn lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, drawing her to his body. Before he could press his lips to hers, Echo’s mouth lifted to his.

She parted his lips with her tongue and explored his warm, open mouth. Her hands surveyed the anatomy of his back, ‘seeing’ the outline of his muscles with her fingertips. She felt his heartbeat drumming against her chest and hers pounding a refrain like a million fluttering birds. The dam, which had held back her hunger for so many months, crumbled and released the rising waters of her pent-up passion. She was glad her gauzy prairie skirt veiled the wicked secret of her sodden panties.

Flynn’s hands stroked her sides, his thumbs grazing the swell of her breasts enticing Echo’s nipples to jut out against her tight-fitting tee. She knew Flynn could feel their hardness brushing his naked flesh, just as she could feel his hardness below, pressing against her pelvis.

Unexpectedly, Flynn put the brakes on. He pulled away, sheepishly dropping his head. “I should go.”

Echo had been enjoying the kiss and didn’t like it one bit that he had taken his mouth from hers. However, she had to admit that she was a little relieved. If he hadn’t stopped, she probably wouldn’t have either. Her admiration for Flynn grew. He had to have known that she was willing, and yet he held back. In her opinion, he showed considerable self-control.

She didn’t want him leaving on such an awkward and tenuous note.
“No, don’t go…please.” She wiggled her bandaged toe in his direction. “My foot is banged up. My plans for the day are shot to hell. Let’s forget about those boxes and just hang out for awhile.”

Sliding off of the counter, she lowered her feet to the floor, wincing as she touched the injured foot gingerly to the ground. Flynn reached to steady her, but she waved him off in a display of independence.

“Look, I’m not sure what just happened here, but guess what—I like you. I don’t know a single soul in this entire town, and I enjoy your company.”

A glimmer of a grin crossed Flynn’s face.

Echo’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own. She wanted so badly to glide them around his naked waist and caress his flesh with her fingertips. Fearing the compulsion to grope him, she folded her hands in prayerful supplication. “Say that you’ll stay for a little while. What am I going to do all, alone in this big house with this bum foot?”

It was so quiet in the room that she could hear the soft scritch-scratch of whiskers as Flynn rubbed his chin with his hand in thoughtful contemplation.

“Besides, it is your fault that I nearly amputated my toe!” Flynn’s eyebrows arched in confusion. “If you hadn’t walked in looking like,” Echo waved a finger up and down his body. “Well, you know…how you look; I would have never dropped that knife.”
Flynn’s eyes shifted to his shirt which hung guiltily over the back of a chair.

 “Another valid point,” Flynn conceded.  “Alright, you win. I’ll keep you company and do my best to keep my knickers on.”

***

Many hours and three bottles of Pinot Grigio later, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving only a trace of a harvest glow in the sky.  Echo and Flynn were sprawled like comfortable old friends across the sofa. Both of them being Irish and well in their cups, they fell into a melancholy and reflective mood.

“Ever thought about what you want from your life?” asked Flynn.

Through bleary eyes Echo drank in the vision of the man sitting next to her. His hair was now a bit unkempt, his body relaxed into the sofa, his long legs stretched for a mile in front of him. He thoughtfully traced the rim of his wine glass with a long, tapered index finger. She was certain that what she wanted most from life at this moment was to pin him to the sofa for an extended snogging session, full of wet kisses and groping hands.

Echo tossed her head back, chuckling. “I know exactly what I want,” she exclaimed. But no amount of alcohol could have loosened her tongue enough for her to confess that she wanted to jump his gorgeous bones. She decided, instead to lighten the mood and hopefully change the subject. Holding her wine glass aloft, she proclaimed, “I want to rule the world!”

 “Of course you do.” Flynn laughed, the deep rolling sound as infectious as his speech.

She had made him laugh. He found her amusing. A warm sensation glowed inside her. She didn’t often show her silly side, and it was nice to feel comfortable enough to let it out.

“But, darlin’ I’m asking what do you want for yourself…for your soul?”

In emphasis, Flynn placed Echo’s hand over her heart.

Echo blinked, trying to better focus her eyes. The touch of his hand on her chest was so warm and tender; it filled Echo with a sentimental emotion. It had been so long since someone had touched her in that way.  Now she knew exactly what she wanted from life. Her head buzzed with fuzzy concentration as she struggled to put it into words.

“I suppose that in the end,” she began. “I just want to love and be loved...although, I’m not exactly getting my hopes up. Things haven’t worked out so well in that department. I hear that I am too picky.” Echo paused for a moment, reminiscing over the men in her past. She had drifted through a life of serial monogamy, finding reasons, or perhaps excuses, to discard them all.

“Well, maybe I am too picky. But if I already know I’m going to be disappointed, why try anymore at all? Isn’t that the definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? I think I may be ready to go the fuck ‘em and forget ‘em route. It sure couldn’t be any more heartbreaking.”

Flynn wrapped his arm around Echo’s shoulder and snuggled her to his body.

She relaxed into his embrace. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open and it felt as if weights were attached to her lashes, tugging on her lids.

“Don’t give up the ghost yet, girl. In the words of John F. Kennedy, ‘what’s the use of being Irish if the world doesn’t break your heart?’”

Wasn’t that the damn truth? Echo’s throat tightened and burned. Flynn’s insightful words had worked their way through her tough exterior and struck at her soft, vulnerable center.

Oh, God, she didn’t want to tur n into a drunken, blubbering fool in front of him. Fighting the urge to feel sorry for herself, Echo quickly changed the subject. Wiggling her empty wine glass she asked, “Want some more?” and then answered herself. “Thank you, I think I will.” Echo sloshed the last of the golden liquid into their goblets.

She had sat up too quickly and now her head swam. Whoa! Echo grabbed onto the edge of the coffee table, her hand slapping down sharply on the glass as she tried to regain her coordination.

“You are positively circling over Shannon drunk!” hooted Flynn.
“This could work to my advantage. Let’s see…what’ll it be….oh, I know…since you can’t hold your liquor like a proper Irishman….

“Wine,” she interrupted. “We’re drinking wine, not liquor.”

Flynn narrowed his eyes. “As I was saying…since you are obviously an amateur Irishman, I challenge you to answer any one question that I ask.”

Echo realized that she had gone beyond being tipsy…she was bordering on shit-faced. She put her wine glass on the table, vowing not to drink another drop. She straightened her spine and tried to appear sober.

“Oh, you are an evil, tricky man!” Echo scowled. “Okay, Mister Smarty-Pants, give me your best shot.”

“Alright then, and you have to answer it honestly…no fairy tales. I want to know your deepest, darkest, most erotic fantasy.”

 Echo rolled her eyes and set her jaw. Of all the questions he could have asked, he chose that one! She doubted he was ready to hear what she had to say.

“You just had to go there, didn’t you? I don’t know,” she hesitated. This was delicate territory. For a moment she considered inventing something because the truth might be too much for him to handle, but as she tried to concoct a lie her muddled, wine-soaked brain wouldn’t cooperate. There wasn’t any way she would be able to weave a believable story in her condition.

“You have to promise not to think that I’m a wanton degenerate. I am going to be honest with you and you can’t use it against me later, alright?”

Flynn nodded.

“Promise?” Maybe she could stall him long enough for him to forget what he had asked or maybe he, too was intoxicated enough not to be shocked…or worse…repulsed.

Flynn covered his heart with his hands, and looked skyward. “I promise on my dearly departed mother, God rest her sainted soul.”

“Oh, since you’re swearing on your sainted mother, I guess it’s okay for me to tell you all of my dirty little secrets, although I doubt your mother would approve.”  Echo’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
What the hell, maybe it’s time I got this off of my chest. Then she was struck with a brilliant notion, sex talk can lead to sex acts. Since their passionate kiss in the kitchen, Flynn had been the picture of gentlemanly behavior. Perhaps some scintillating conversation would change that.

“Alright, I’ll tell you, but I’m warning you, it is deliciously depraved.”

“Mmmm,” Flynn responded rubbing his palms together. “I can hardly wait.”

“Here’s goes.” Echo took a deep breath.

“Okay, I fantasize that I am being dominated by someone. I don’t mean someone who abuses me because that is not cool at all.” She shook her head, screwing up her face in displeasure. “I would have to trust them. That’s an important prerequisite. I do have my boundaries,” she clarified.

She checked Flynn’s face for a negative emotion but found only a hint of a smile. He might actually be enjoying this! Was it turning him on? Just thinking about being dominated was turning her on. She needed to feel the reassurance of his body next to hers as she immersed herself in the details of her fantasy.

Snuggling her head against Flynn’s chest, she closed her eyes, envisioning the details of her fantasy, and the words tumbled from her mouth. “It goes something like this, my partner knows that it excites me when he takes control, and I am a little frightened…not of him, just of not knowing what is going to happen…and that makes it all the more exciting. He tells me what to do and how to do it, and then he makes me do it. All the while, everything he commands is aimed at giving me pleasure, even if it doesn’t at first appear like that.

Because I trust him, he is able to get me to try all sorts of exotic things I’ve never experienced before and I love it. I do everything he wants me to do. I allow him to dominate the hell out of me and it drives me wild with passion. He is white-hot with desire when I submit to him, but he stops short of screwing me to the bedpost until he has me moaning and writhing, begging for it. I offer my body to him to do with as he wishes and he teases and taunts me, controlling my response until he gives me permission for release.

We go beyond the usual sexual experience into something more exciting, more fulfilling, more… dangerous! It’s an entire erotic lifestyle that goes past the bedroom door and spills into my daily life. Just imagine any day of your life, and then imagine the same day, but every minute of it has this underlying sexual tension that builds and builds until finally we…I mean, me and my lover unleash it.”

Echo braced for Flynn’s reaction. “There you have it. You think I’m freak, don’t you?”

Flynn coughed nervously, his cheeks flushing a rosy red. “Not at all, I find it quite, um, stimulating…and I can prove it. Look at my wanker.” Flynn leaned back against the couch revealing a substantial swelling in his trousers.

Bleary eyed, Echo focused on the bulging fabric of Flynn’s crotch. Good Lord, this man was packing heat. A wide hillock extended from between his legs, traversing upward towards his belt buckle. Its girth pushed the waistband of his pants away from his skin. Like a Moray eel emerging from the seafloor, it snaked towards his navel, the swollen head trapped between his trousers and the coarse black hairs of his abdomen.

I knew it! I just knew he had a giant-sized jackhammer! Echo was impressed, and flattered. A shiver ran through her body when she considered the pummeling promise of what lay beneath his pants.
She leaned into him, drunkenly punctuating her words by poking Flynn in the chest with her finger.

“That…my friend…should require you…to carry a license.”

Flynn shifted in his seat. “I’m glad that you approve.” He adjusted his pants to conceal his enlarging prick and nervously cleared his throat.  “So back to this fantasy of yours, have you thought about playing it out for real?”

Echo had indeed thought about it. It was on her top-five list of things she wanted to do, right beneath winning the lottery and partying with Jack Nicholson.

“Oh that…sure, I’ve thought about it, but I don’t really see myself ever being in the right…hic...Excuse me…circumstances for it to happen. Plus, I think I might be too big of a chicken.”

“But what if everything was right? The right person, the right circumstances? Do you think you would give it a go?”

“I don’t know. What are you suggheshting?” Echo slurred. Damn, slurring her words was her personal red flag that she was past the point of no return.

“Nothing, just asking.”

An awkward silence ensued. Echo wondered where he was going with this line of questioning. Her head swam from too much wine and the need for sleep nagged at her eyelids. Leaning against the back of the sofa, she closed her eyes.

After a protracted moment, Flynn patted Echo’s knee. “I better get you to bed and call it a night.”

Flynn lifted Echo’s slackened form into his capable arms. A blissful state of drowsiness descended upon her body. Luxuriating in the sensation, she nestled her face into his muscled neck and filled her lungs with his intoxicating scent.

While Echo basked in his manly essence, Flynn ascended the stairs which led to her bedroom, then deposited her on the bed.

Echo watched him through one drowsy eye. She considered it entirely possible that he was even sexier when she was drunk.

 “Where are your nightclothes?” Flynn whispered into her ear.
His breath tickled causing lovely little shivers to spiral down her spine. Echo nestled her face deeply into the cool comfort of the pillow and mumbled, “Don’t have any…I sleep in the nuuuude.”

The wooly weight of a blanket parachuted onto her body. Flynn’s hands slid beneath her back as he tucked it around her. Echo was about to lift the blanket and invite him inside of her cozy cocoon when she heard him say, “Okay darlin’, I’m just going to go now.”
Flynn began to tiptoe towards the door. “Thanks for a terrific evening. It was grand, really it was.”

What! He was leaving just like that? Without as much as a kiss? Enough of this gentlemanly act. Talking about her fantasy had made her horny as a high-school senior and she wanted to fall asleep with the taste of his tongue in her mouth.

Echo was fully alert now. She may have been drunk but she wasn’t stupid. She batted her lashes and engaged her most pathetic puppy-dog expression. “Flynn, aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?”

Flynn halted mid-step.

“Oh, how terrible of me to forget.” He said. “No tucking-in is complete without the required goodnight kiss.”

Echo tried to hide the hint of a smile that pulled on the corners of her mouth. Her little scheme had worked. Flynn approached. Tilting her face towards his, she licked her lips, parting them slightly, and waited for his kiss.

Bending low, Flynn placed a peck on Echo’s forehead, followed by a disappointing pat on the top of her head.

Echo’s body squirmed from the frustration that was building inside of her. Dammit, here she was offering herself to him and he seemed impervious to her charms. Now he was just fucking with her—and maybe making fun of her a little bit too. Not nice. She was determined to have the last word. There was not a chance in hell she was going to allow him to scoot out of her bedroom like this. Before he left tonight, she wanted to give him something to think about…maybe even something to go home and jerk off to. Yeah, give him a little hint of what he was missing.

“Not from way up there,” Echo pouted, thumping the mattress with her palm.  “Sit here. I want a proper kiss.”

Echo’s game was transparent and Flynn determined to give her a taste of her own medicine. Conjuring his best predatory countenance, he leered unblinkingly into her eyes. She leered back, with an expression of victory on her face.

Flynn pounced onto the bed, capturing her hips between his knees. A startled gasp escaped from Echo’s throat. Flynn stroked her hair, which fanned out across the pillow like the coral rays of a sunset. She arched her neck, turning her face upward and closed her eyes.

Flynn knew that he could have her tonight if he chose to. He would have liked nothing more than to tumble between the sheets with this lovely lass. She was the epitome of what he desired: flowing red hair, translucent skin, spectacular breasts, all wrapped in one lusty package. But tonight was too soon. He wanted to be more than a brief encounter to her, another notch on her bedpost. She might fuck him, but he wanted to make certain that she would never forget him.

Entwining a fistful of Echo’s hair in his fingers he tugged it sharply backward. The startled look on Echo’s face was priceless. At first she was wide-eyed with shock, but her expression quickly melted into electrified anticipation. Her nostrils flared and a fire burned hotly in her eyes. Flynn knew he had struck a chord in her. The rapid rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing quickened also struck a chord in him and he felt a stir at the base of his prick. Dominating her in this way was unexpectedly arousing. Masculinity seemed to surge through every cell of his body.

Like a panther stalking its prey, he inched nearer to her waiting mouth until he could feel her breath on his skin. She lay in motionless anticipation, narrowing her gaze and daring him to take the lead. In a flash his mouth descended on hers. His probing tongue invaded her lips. Echo squirmed beneath his body, her breasts pressing against his chest, her hips writhing on the mattress.
She stretched her arms to embrace his neck, but Flynn quickly clutched her wrists pinning them to the headboard.

The act of restraining her arms seemed to embolden her.
She played with his tongue as if she was pleasuring his prick. Sucking it in and out her mouth, she swirled her tongue along the length of his, taking it deeply into her throat. He responded, sinking his tongue into her, and imagining his cock filling her mouth as he wrestled this wildcat woman into submission.

Thrusting her hips upward, she ground her loins against his enlarging cock. She wasn’t shy about her desire. A hot-blooded woman was to his liking, but a hot-blooded woman that was begging to be tamed was damn near irresistible. The most shocking thoughts ran through his mind: Echo on her knees, his cock teasing her mouth, Echo in restraints, helpless as his tongue explored every inch of her flesh, and Echo wailing for him to fuck her.  If he wasn’t careful, he could easily be swept up in this new-found power.

The blanket that had covered her was now bunched up to one side. Flynn pulled his mouth from hers, his eyes roaming the landscape of her form. The round buds of her nipples jutted against her shirt; her flesh glowed with a lusty, rosy hue. Her skirt was hiked up over her hips, revealing the curving mound of her pussy beneath her barely-there panties. On the comforter beneath her hips, spread a wide circle of wet desire.

His cock urged him to take it to the finish, but his better judgment won out. If he allowed himself in her bed, he would be giving her what she craved—he would be handing himself over to her on a silver platter too easily. If he lay with her tonight, he might never want to leave. Abruptly, he released her wrists, and leapt to his feet. Echo stared at him, breathless.

“I think that should hold you for awhile,” he said, pretending a composure he didn’t feel. He had to get out of her bedroom before he took things too far.

Flynn crossed to the door. Just before pulling it shut behind him, he paused long enough to call out over his shoulder, “Sleep tight, and be careful what you wish for, Miss Sullivan.”