Chapter Twenty-Four
QUINN
O ver the next few days, Landon and I made good use of our time, exploring each other’s bodies in ways I’d never expected.
Though, not all the ways I wanted. He showed me the pleasure of delayed gratification. I pulled out every trick in my very limited playbook in attempts to make him lose control.
One morning, Landon had to drag me down to breakfast. Gorging ourselves on only each other didn’t constitute a well-balanced diet. He actually used those words.
The nerd.
As we sat together in the empty kitchen, where we liked to come early while everyone else slept off their nightly activities, I found myself staring at him.
“What were you like as a kid?”
While I devoured the chocolate strawberry crepes in front of me, he munched on muesli cereal and drank a green smoothie. His idea of a well-balanced diet was as regimented and strict as him. But since I’d been steadily wearing him down with my charm and delightful personality, it made me wonder why he was always so serious.
Did he ever splurge and eat chocolate chip waffles for breakfast? Had he always been that way, or had he ever gorged himself on pancakes in the shape of a mouse with a whipped cream smile as a kid?
I rested my chin in my hands and sighed, struggling to imagine him like that. “I picture you as a boy in black matching pajamas, reading the newspaper, and that just makes me sad.”
His eyebrow quirked, and he carefully withdrew the straw from his mouth and set his smoothie down. “Why would that make you sad?”
“Because you’re so serious all the time!” I jerked my fork in his direction without thinking. “Did you ever just have fun?”
We both watched as a dollop of whipped cream flew off my fork. It sailed through the air, heading right toward him. I cringed when it hit the center of his chest with a splat.
Shrinking back in my chair and smothering a laugh at the appalled look on his face, I threw my hands up in surrender. “Whoops…”
He stared down at the white spot marring his pristine black shirt, swiping it off with his finger and holding it out to me. “Whoops?”
“That was an accident, I swear.”
He stalked over to me, coming around the kitchen counter with a look in his eyes that promised trouble.
The laugh fighting its way out of my mouth didn’t help, but I tried again, and failed, to sound sincere. “I’m sorry?”
“Oh, you will be.”
He lunged for me.
I shrieked and jumped off my chair, knocking it over to slow his attack. My laughter broke free as I ran away from him.
Vaulting over the chair like a freaking gazelle, his fingers nearly snagged the back of my sleep shirt.
I cursed the loose, flowing garment. Bunching it in my fists, I ran around the island.
He planted his hands on the surface between us, his finger covered in whipped cream held up for me to see. “I’m putting this on that pretty face of yours, whether you like it or not.”
My eyes widened. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
His eyes darkened, and my mouth went dry.
I wet my lips, dragging out the movement just to taunt him. “I don’t care where you put it as long as you lick it off me.”
His gaze flicked down to my breasts, where my nipples had taken it upon themselves to sharpen into visible points. He crooked his finger and beckoned me toward him. “If you come willingly, I’ll be gentle.”
“What if I don’t want you to be gentle?” I sassed back.
That earned me a low growl from his throat. His arms flexed with restraint, and when that sent tension rippling up his forearms, he flashed me some serious vein porn.
But there was no time to drool over it. I whirled around, grabbing the canister of whipped cream from behind me. He used my momentary distraction to bolt around the island.
His arms wrapped around me in a bear-hug-slash-tackle, and I shrieked as he barreled into me. I brought the can up between us. Lifting me off my feet, his arms tightened around me. And my hands clenched reflexively.
Whipped cream sprayed everywhere.
His chin, my face, his neck, both our chests—the shock of it pulling a cry of surprise out of me and a deeper growl out of him. My shriek dissolved into uncontrollable laughter as the carnage continued to rain all over us, until he finally wrestled the can from my grip.
He tossed it aside, pinning me against the fridge as streams of whipped cream dripped down his face.
I snorted, more laughter bursting free. Fully unable to help myself, my hands came up and smeared the mess into his hair.
He returned the favor by rubbing his face all over mine, spreading the cream over my lips, my eyes, and somehow managing to get some up my nostril.
“Ack!” I cried out, pushing him away to wipe at my nose.
Tears of laughter mixed with the sticky sweet cream on my face. It dripped down my neck, and I glanced down just in time to watch it slide into the v-neck collar of my sleep shirt.
He saw it, too.
Every ounce of playfulness evaporated from the room.
His hands found the hem of my shirt.
Mine found the waist of his pants.
He tore my shirt up and over my head, spinning us around. My fingers fumbled over the drawstring at his waist and tugged it free.
Walking us to the island, Landon pressed my body backward just as my hands wrapped around his straining cock.
I wanted him inside me—right then. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to let things get that far. It didn’t matter where we were or who could walk in and see us.
I wanted to feel him more than I cared about anything else.
But he had other ideas first.
Flattening my back on the island, he clambered on top of me as he kicked free of his pants—the ones I’d shoved down to his ankles. He growled at the snicker I hid behind my hand and pinned my thighs between his knees.
And when his mouth sealed over my breast, he wiped away the last traces of my laughter.
My back arched, seeking out his mouth. I planted my hands beside me and pressed up. He took the invitation, licking every drop of whipped cream off my naked chest. Laving his tongue over my nipples long after I was clean. Sucking each pert bud into his mouth until I writhed beneath him—ready to scream if he didn’t give me more.
He released my right nipple with a pop, humming appreciatively at my clean, bare breasts.
But a drop of whipped cream slid down his jaw and landed right on his blank canvas. Swiping a hand over his face and neck, he gathered the remnants there and scooped what he could from his shirt.
Then, he slathered it all over me again.
Diving back in, his hot, greedy mouth followed the path of his hand as it dipped between my breasts and lower down to my stomach.
Needy, desperate sounds left my throat as he descended.
His tongue stroked over my skin, circling my belly button, and running along the line of my panties. He gripped my thighs and spread my legs, sliding down my body and off the side of the island.
His face hovered over my slit, the thin barrier of my panties doing nothing to hide how much I wanted him. A murmur of appreciation rumbled from his lips. It reverberated deep in my core.
“Always so fucking wet for me. Aren’t you, Maiden?”
“Yes,” I panted, slightly breathless. “Always for you.”
His eyes flashed dangerously, desire gleaming as he took in how much I wanted him, but still he didn’t give me his touch.
“Landon, please.”
He shook his head as he ran his unhurried gaze over my soaked panties. With the tip of his nose, he edged along the line of my thong, grazing my clit before teasing down the other side. And then he did it all over again. Nuzzling my thighs, breathing in my arousal, he clicked his tongue on the back of his teeth as his dark amber eyes filled with regret.
Sinister, fucking-downright-evil regret.
“Good girls get orgasms, Maiden.”
His breath fluttered over my core, coiling everything inside me so tightly, I thought I might explode. I certainly wanted to when he eased off me completely.
“Bad girls get punished.”
He slapped my clit.
I yelped, my eyes widening. It hadn’t been hard enough to hurt, but left me momentarily too stunned to speak. I lay there panting as he tugged his pants up and wiped a dollop of whipped cream off his belt.
His eyes met mine as he sucked his finger clean.
And he walked out of the kitchen right as I found my voice.
“Motherfucker!” My hands slapped on the island, and I sat up with a growl. “I’m going to get you for that!”
His laughter echoed down the hall, and I collapsed back on the island, trying to collect myself.
I had no idea how long I lay there, but it took time to seriously contemplate my life choices.
The ones that led me to this sticky but somehow-still-totally-fucking-arousing mess.
“What the fuck is this?”
At the sound of that shrill voice, I slapped my hands over my bare chest. My head flew towards the door to find Vivian—and goddamn Max Dread—standing in the back doorway to the kitchen.
I squeaked, unfortunately, and jumped off the island as quickly as I could. Given that it was still a slimy mess, my efforts were neither graceful nor quick enough. But I finally made it to the floor and blew out a huge breath.
Vivian shouted something about this being a shared space, and Max huffed a laugh.
Hunting on the ground for my sleep shirt with one arm still covering my breasts, I crawled around the side of the island.
The shirt dangled in front of my face. And at the end of the heavily muscled arm attached to it, I found Max’s stupid, smirking face.
“Looking for this, Princess?”
Snatching it out of his hand, I used it to cover myself. I rose to my feet and rushed for the door. The driving thought in my head being that I was going to kill Landon Scott when I got my hands on him.
Intent on my murder plans, I missed a stray pile of whipped cream and slipped on it. My foot flew out from under me as I screamed, torn between keeping myself covered and protecting my face. Pitching toward the floor, I let go of my shirt and threw my hands out at the last second.
And landed with an oomph in Max’s arms.
My breasts fully uncovered.
In a goddamn thong.
Because of-fucking-course, I couldn’t just be caught half-naked by him.
I was going to kill Landon Scott.
Scrambling to get my feet under me and get out of there only made it worse. I practically slithered my naked body all over Max’s in my attempts to get away.
Vivian’s outraged and high-pitched shrieks rang in my ears as I flailed uselessly.
Max jerked my body upright and locked his arms around me.
“Stop squirming,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. Once he righted me on my feet, he snapped at Vivian, pointing to my shirt on the ground. “V, shut the hell up and make yourself useful. I swear to fucking god only you can bitch about a problem while actively prolonging it.”
She clamped her mouth shut, but huffed and stomped over to my shirt. Meanwhile, I did the only logical thing I could think to do at that moment and bit down on Max’s arm— hard.
His grip slackened and I pushed away from him, losing my footing and landing on my butt.
I glared up at him from the floor. “Don’t be such a fucking asshole, you—asshole!”
“You’re defending her?” Breathing hard and clutching the arm I’d marked with my teeth hard enough to draw blood, he glared down at me. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
I shouted at him, “You don’t have to talk to her like that!”
“I was trying to help you!” he roared back.
“I don’t need your help, you fucking brute!”
“Sure as hell looks like you do, Princess! Or did you forget that you almost face planted in the communal kitchen before I saved your ungrateful bare ass?”
“I didn’t ask you to save me! And if I want to walk around this whole house naked as a goddamn blue jay, I will!”
That drew both of our attention to the fact that I was very nearly as naked as a goddamn blue jay.
When he opened his mouth to respond, nothing came out. And although I needed to get the fuck out of there, I froze.
His eyes zeroed in on my heaving chest as if my nipples had become homing beacons. He glared down at my naked body and swallowed, his throat bobbing as his eyes jumped from my breasts to my skimpy black thong before snapping back to my face.
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head at the dark, lust-fueled and hatred-filled look he pinned me with.
The heat of that one prolonged stare could have set the room ablaze. Or my fucking panties.
I snapped my thighs together. “Are you just going to stand there? Give me my shirt!”
Vivian made a noise so shrill it sounded inhuman. “Shut up, both of you!”
She snatched my shirt off the ground and shoved it into my chest. Tugging on Max’s arm, she pulled him away from me so quickly I had to wonder if she’d noticed his stare.
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get it out of my head.
But thankfully, Landon chose that moment to walk back into the kitchen.
“Quinn?” He caught sight of me on the floor and ran over, dropping to his knees in front of me. “Oh, shit. Are you alright? I thought you’d come tearing after me for that and then when you didn’t—Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
His genuine concern almost made me reconsider my plans to murder him.
Almost.
“I am going to kill you, Landon Scott.”
That was all the warning he got before I lunged at him.