Chapter 31 Taran #2
Quinn’s kiss was deep but slow, sexy and in control, and so tender I felt the sting of tears in my nose. I curled my hands around his biceps, my fingers digging into his muscle, desperation and exploration colliding in my touch.
Years of longing filled that kiss.
I could lie to myself and say this was just sex, but it was more.
It was two bound souls finally reunited, and it was as painful as it was exquisite.
As if he heard my thoughts, Quinn’s kiss grew hungrier, more urgent, his hands exploring my body, squeezing my waist in a way that felt frantic. Then just as quickly, he seemed to check himself again, his touch gentling to brush strokes across my ribs, my waist, my stomach.
Less controlled than he was, my hands dipped under his shirt to caress his stomach, dragging my nails up over the ridges of muscle to his pecs, my thumbs finding his nipples. I moaned, arching into him, pressing against the arousal tenting his jeans.
Quinn’s kiss deepened in reaction and he gripped my hip, pushing into me harder.
I kissed him back with the same greed, and our tongues tangled in deep, wet strokes.
Arching into him as my hands moved back from under his shirt to stroke down his arms, I learned the virile strength of him, his hardness to my softness.
Suddenly Quinn grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head on the bed.
That tension inside me coiled tighter as he ground his erection into me, holding me down, so strong, so much bigger than me.
Without my touch to distract him, Quinn’s kisses gentled, his control returning.
He nipped at my lips and then pressed sweet kisses to my chin and down my throat, sliding south as he played with my right breast, squeezing, kneading, and sculpting it, his thumb strumming at my nipple.
All the while he took my left nipple into his hot mouth.
“Quinn!” Sensation scored down my stomach to between my legs.
I was nothing but quivering limbs and need as he took his time suckling and licking at each of my nipples until they were flushed and swollen and tender.
His name fell from my lips over and over, seeming only to make him more determined to kiss every inch of me.
His mouth touched upon every dip and curve of my body, exploring my ribs and down my stomach, my waist, my hips, as his hands moved over me, needing to touch, to lick, needing to pet.
Finally, I could take no more.
I grabbed at his shirt, curling my fist into the material. “Get naked. Get naked now,” I demanded hoarsely.
Quinn grunted in amusement at the order, but he pushed off the bed, eyes hot as he tugged his shirt up and over and threw it behind him. I pushed up on my elbows to drink in every inch of him as he worked on his boots and jeans. He was beautiful.
His body had changed too. His shoulders were wider, a thickness to his muscles compared to the sinewy strength of them in his youth.
He was no less gorgeous, though. Naturally tan skin rippled over defined pecs and his hard stomach.
Thick thigh muscles and carved calves almost distracted me from his large erection that strained his boxer briefs. Almost, but not quite.
My nipples peaked in reaction as he peeled his underwear over his cock and pushed them off.
His cock was generous in proportions, length and girth, and, just as I remembered, it curved slightly to the left. Right now the veins along it throbbed visibly, the head so dark red it was purple. Precum glistened at the tip.
My lower belly squeezed hard.
“You’re beautiful, Quinn,” I whispered.
His lips curled ever so slightly at the corners, perhaps bemused by the word choice but apparently pleased, nonetheless. In seconds, he retrieved a condom from his wallet, and wet pooled between my thighs as he rolled it down his cock.
Then Quinn prowled over me, bracing his hands on the bed at either side of my head. I widened my thighs so he could settle between them, excitement shuddering through me as I dug my fingers into his muscled back.
“Are you ready, Mo luaidh?” His question was hoarse with need.
“I’m ready.”
His expression was almost feral, and utterly thrilling, as he suddenly gripped me by the thighs and jerked my hips upward.
I let out a whimper of anticipation as Quinn lifted my lower body off the bed. Attention focused between my legs, he guided his cock to my entrance. My inner thighs trembled and my fingers clenched the duvet at the hard heat, the pressure of him pushing inside.
Quinn gritted his teeth, almost baring them at me. “Tight.”
It had been a while for me, to be fair.
Thankfully, I was fully open to his invasion and very, very wet.
He made a guttural sound, his eyes narrowing with pleasure as he pushed in to the hilt.
He was so overwhelming. I was so full with him—it was like he was everywhere. “I forgot,” I panted, reaching for him, my hands wrapping around his forearms as he continued to hold my lower body up for his thrusts.
“You forgot what?” He slid gently back out.
The drag of his cock caused the tension coiling inside me to tighten.
“Uh!” My head fell back on the bed, my eyes rolling shut. “Quinn!”
“Open your eyes.”
They flew open at his dark, demanding tone.
“Forgot what?” He held still, just the tip of him inside me.
“How amazing you feel.”
His nostrils flared, a possessive look I remembered from our youth heating his gaze. “I never forgot, Taran. I never forgot how fucking perfect your pussy is. How perfect it is around my dick.” On the word dick, he thrust. Hard.
I let out a loud cry, forgetting we were in a hotel, forgetting everything but him.
I tried to claw at him, at the duvet beneath me, trying to move into his drives and unable to because he held me so tightly. There was no undulating into his thrusts, there was only taking what he wanted to give, and it was more erotic than I could have imagined.
I was held captive while Quinn fucked me, and it was the hottest moment of my life.
Every push into me elicited a cry as his cock seemed to hit this nerve inside of me that caused the coiling pleasure to tighten exponentially.
My pleasured cries only grew louder, making Quinn more savage, more needful.
His grip was bruising as he kneeled between my thighs and pounded into me.
My body shifted up the bed with his exuberance.
“Quinn!” I was on the precipice of coming. It was right there. I was going to come, and I hadn’t even needed him to touch my clit to do it. “Fuck!” I gasped in amazement.
“Come, Taran,” Quinn commanded harshly. “I need you to come first, Mo luaidh.”
“I’m coming,” I promised. “I’m … Oh, Quinn, yes, yes …” I shattered around him on a scream of his name as my inner muscles tightened and released, tightened and released in a powerful climax.
Quinn’s eyes flared. “Oh fuck!” His hips suddenly shook against mine as his cock pulsed against my contractions. His masculine groan was loud and satisfying as he trembled through his orgasm.
He released my thighs, falling over me, his face in my neck as he ground into me.
He smelled and felt right. I put my arms around him, telling myself the tears in my eyes were just from the awesome orgasm.
My hands smoothed possessively over his back.
His skin was damp with perspiration, his muscles warm under my palms.
“Mo luaidh …” The words were mumbled against my neck. “Mo luaidh.”
My inner muscles twitched around him in response, even as my legs fell limp with exertion.
I wanted to berate myself for what I’d just done.
But as Quinn raised his head to study me, his features slackened and relaxed with his climax, tender and warm with affection …
I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. So when he kissed me, I tangled my hands in his hair and returned his neediness with mine.
I rolled him onto his back, peppering kisses through his beard and down his throat.
“Taran,” he groaned.
We aren’t done, I thought, almost panicked as I relearned his body with my mouth and hands. If this was all I could give him, then we weren’t done. It couldn’t be over just yet.
It was my turn to savor Quinn.