Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
CELESTE
Quinton crawls onto the bed, collecting me up onto his hips as he goes. We’re in the center of the mattress, me straddling his lap as he rocks back onto his heels. His mouth finds my peak, and fuck. My head falls back, eyes shuttering closed as pure bliss sinks into my chest.
“Quinnie,” I rasp.
“Mhmmm.” The sound reverberates between my rib cage, sinking somewhere deep.
“Do we need something?”
He loses the peak with a pop and looks up. “It’s been over six years since I’ve . . . I’m clean, baby.”
“Same. And I have an IUD, so . . .”
“Fuck, I so wanted you bare. Guess my Christmas wish is about to come true.” The shit-eating grin on his face is melting my soul. Even more so when it fades to desperation.
I can’t wait a second longer.
I line the tip of his cock to my aching, soaked entrance. “Then make mine come true already, will you?”
He grabs my hips, stalling my movements. “And what exactly does this Christmas wish entail, Celeste?”
“You, me. On every surface we can find.”
He drops his forehead to my chest with a groan. “You are literally fucking perfect, woman.”
I loose a huffy chuckle and wriggle in his hold, wanting to lower down.
“Uh-uh. In a minute. There’s no rush.” His blues are dark. The brush of his tip against my entrance is blissful torture. All I want is to feel him inside me.
And there absolutely is a rush on this, Quinton.
I’m burning up alive here.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Give in to me, sweet man.”
He grunts, the sound straining as his throat bobs. His eyes close as his grip on my hips fades.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I dot kisses over his neck before my lips brush against his ear. “Let go, Quinnie.”
His eyes drift open and his jaw feathers. “On one condition.”
I peck his lips, hands grasping his jawline as I utter, “What’s that?”
“Let me love you the way you deserve, Celeste.”
And . . . heavens above. That I didn’t expect. Emotion steals the air in my lungs, prickles blooming behind the bridge of my nose.
Knuckles brush over my cheek as Quin’s gaze holds mine. The second his hand leaves my face, it reaffirms on my hip.
And I’m slammed down.
He thrusts up, sinks up to the hilt, and leaves my empty lungs starved on a choppy gasp.
“Fucking hell, baby,” he growls, holding me motionless as we both adjust, heaving through each desperate breath. “Dammit, don’t you move. Give me a second.”
I’m so tempted to wriggle all over his lap, but I don’t want to ruin this moment. Don’t want to be responsible for ending this too soon. And the stretch, the overwhelming size of him is sending my head spinning.
The last thing I want to do is move.
Tightness seizes my chest, an ache growing as I realize the line we’ve crossed. The depth and velocity of what lies between us after just three short weeks.
And it must be etched all over my face . . .
“Breathe, baby.” Quin’s hands cup my face. “It’s just you and me.”
I nod, but the oxygen seems to have evaporated from the room.
“Celeste, we can stop. You tell me, and we stop.”
How badly I want to tell him it’s me, not him. It’s my bundles of insecurities, history of bad decisions, and inability to see things through that haunt me in this moment. This moment that should be beautiful, freeing, and just between us.
“Baby, you gotta talk to me,” he rasps.
“I—”
I draw in a shuddering breath, and the slight motion has him twitch inside me. Lighting me up from the inside like nothing before.
Hands grip my face. “Beautiful, you’re scaring me. I need to know what’s going on in this head of yours.”
“I don’t . . . I can’t—” I close my eyes briefly before studying his face. “It’s only been three weeks, but I feel—you feel like . . .”
I’m terrible at this stuff. Always have been.
“I feel like what?” he says softly.
“Home.” The word breaks, and the relief that floods his face has my own bunching up as tears swell.
Shit.
“God, baby, I had no idea how much I was missing until you showed up in this tiny little town. Now I don’t think I can go without.”
Mostly recovered from the realization of who this man is to me, I try my luck and wiggle my hips, just a little bit.
“Ah, fuck,” he groans.
“I really want to move,” I whisper.
His head ducks as he plucks a nipple through his teeth. “Mhmmm.”
I take the initiative and rise on my knees a little. My mouth falls open as I feel every inch of him. Teeth tighten around my peak, a groan slipping past his lips.
“Qui—”
My back meets the bed, and the air puffs from my chest. Rough hands haul my hips upward toward his, and he has me spread wide. One deep, incredible thrust, and he’s sunk to the hilt again. “Fuck, CC . . . You’re tight, so fucking wet, and goddamn mine.”
Every punishing thrust has my pussy clenching tighter around him. The way this man goes from sweet and sensitive to demanding and filthy-mouthed is a delight.
And I’m so here for it.
“God, we are incredible. You take my cock so fucking well, Celeste.”
He brushes a thumb over my clit, and I arch off the bed, shoulders digging into the mattress. I clamp down around his cock, unable to stall the imminent orgasm building.
“Not yet, beautiful.”
He slows his pace, his thrusts growing more shallow as I writhe on the bed in annoyance.
“Quin, please.”
“No.”
My mouth gapes. Now he’s just being the orgasm grinch.
Ass.
But to my surprise, he leans down, letting my hips lower to the bed, my back pressing into the mattress. “We have all night. We’re not rushing the best part.”
Crawling over me, he takes up a rhythm, slow and deep. Kisses find my neck, my breasts, and that hollow spot where my throat meets my collarbone. My hands wander through his hair as he tracks kisses around the soft flesh of each breast before sucking on a hard peak.
And the tight coil of an orgasm builds once again.
I slide a hand to my clit, letting my fingertips dance over the sensitive bud. A moan slips past my lips, and he notices where my hand is.
His harsh grip has my wrists pinned to the bed above my head a second later. “Determined to get on that naughty list, aren’t you, beautiful?”
I huff a sound that’s noncommittal. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He plucks a nipple between his teeth.
Show-off.
A beat later, he has me writhing beneath him once again. But just as I think he’ll give in and let me have what I want, he flips me over. Hands on my hips, he kneels behind me, sinking in so deep I can barely keep myself upright on my hands and knees.
Holy fuck.
“Dammit, CC. Look at you. Perfect fucking curves, this gorgeous pussy swallowing my cock. A man could get addicted to this.”
I can barely breathe, let alone respond. And when his hand slides around my belly and down to my clit, fingers swirling over the bud, I all but face-plant onto the duvet. He’s playing my body like a harp. Strung tight, with every precise pluck of his finger sending me closer and closer to oblivion.
A hand fists my hair, and I cant my ass, wanting him deeper still.
“Quin, please.” The raw desperation in my voice should be embarrassing.
But he simply leans over, sending kisses up my spine before an arm slips under my rib cage, hauling me up to him.
When my back meets his chest, his lips brush my ear.
“Keep begging, baby. Every time you make those pretty fucking little noises, I’ll give you more. ”
“I—”
He shakes his head. “No words.”
Oh.
He’s still. Motionless and waiting.
He wants to hear me. I get nothing, not another inch, until I sing for him.
I send a hand down to my clit before my fingers explore the place we are joined, and we both moan at the same time.
I get one deep, languid thrust.
“Good girl.”
Oh god . . .
I lean back, resting my head on his shoulder as I rub my fingertip over my clit. The mewl that follows is dizzying.
“Fuck, that’s it.” Quin nips my neck, pulling out so slowly it draws more huffy little sounds from my throat. And when he thrusts back in, slower still, I’m all but crying out his name.
“Christ, Celeste. You’re my favorite fucking sound.”
“More, please . . .”
“Sing for me, baby.”
He slams into me. This time, he’s lodged deep. “I want to see you fall apart when you come all over my cock. We’re moving.”
“No. Stop, I’m so close,” I whine.
He nips the soft flesh of my neck. “We’re moving.”
Bossy, gorgeous man. He withdraws, leaving me aching for him as he steps off the bed.
“Come here,” he growls.
It’s all I can do to follow him.
He grabs my hand when I’m off the bed and hauls me into the en suite. My ass meets the cold marble of the vanity a second later. My thighs are pushed wide, hips tugged to the very edge as he sweeps the tip of his cock through my aching entrance.
“Just the tip until you give me those pretty little moans,” he says, lodging barely an inch inside me.
My head falls back, hitting the mirror.
Lips close around my nipple.
A finger trails down my belly, stopping short of my clit.
“That’s just cruel, Quinnie.”
“Just trying on the naughty for size.”
“Sweet man, you are no grinch. Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met.”
The words just tumble out, natural and unbridled. And never a truer word was spoken. Despite the timing, I mean every word.
And his eyes narrow playfully. “You just want the rest of me.”
“That’s also true, I do. But I meant every word, Quin.”
His mouth crashes to mine. I tangle my hands behind his neck, the ache in my core intensifying to something torturous.
He gives me another inch.
And the moan that starts in my chest is captured by him. He takes every sound he elicits from me willingly. Hungrily.
Breaking away from the kiss, I whisper, “Don’t make me wait, Quinnie.”
He slams into me, and I melt against the marble. Every thrust more punishing than the last, I spiral higher and higher. One hand gripping my hip, his other plays with my clit.
He sweeps his thumb over the sensitive nub, then sends it in circles. Every move he makes has me wrapped up tighter.
Those sounds he was wanting tumble from my mouth consistently.
“Quin,” I warn, eyes rolling in my head as my mouth gapes, legs trembling beyond control.
“Fuck, baby, give it to me.”
I crash down around him. Bliss explodes through my core as I clamp down, as wave after incredible wave cuts through my body. “Quin, oh my god.”
He moans, his thrusts turning sloppy as his forehead hits my chest.
Hot ropes of release follow with a heady, raw growl.
When we’ve both caught our breath, Quin slides a drawer open and grabs out a washcloth. He runs the water until it’s warm. Wetting the rag, he cleans me up with careful, loving strokes of the material. Everything is so sensitive. I shake, holding onto his shoulders as he works.
It’s the most intimate, thoughtful gesture I’ve ever experienced.
“You don’t have to . . .” I tug my bottom lip through my teeth.
“Baby, I made a mess of you. The least I can do is clean you up.”
I can’t help the smile of adoration that blooms.
Scooping me up, he pads for the bed. We crawl between the sheets, and I’m snuggled up against him with my back to his chest before he pulls the blanket over us.
I yawn, and a kiss presses to my temple.
“Just a nap,” I mutter, my eyes falling shut.
“Just a few minutes, and we can . . .” He softens against my back, his breathing shallowing out as I fall deeper into that warm, dark, cozy place.