SEVENTEEN Quincy
I lied to Sebastian to preserve the last of my dignity.
That was so much better than good.
It was mind-blowing. The best I’ve ever had, and I’m afraid no one will ever be able to top it.
Color sparks behind my eyes. There’s crackling in the center of my chest. My legs squeeze together when I help him work off his pants. My nipples harden when I get to his briefs, drawing the dark material down his muscular thighs until we’re both naked and staring at each other.
And … I feel it.
The shift between us. The line we’ve crossed and can’t come back from is a visceral, real thing, but I don’t want to come back from it.
We’re here together, in a place I never thought I’d be, and I … I don’t want to leave.
It’s not just because of the orgasm.
There’s something more there, filling the space between us.
It’s the whisper of think of how good it would be.
The shadow of no one’s made you feel like this before, but he does.
And, perhaps the loudest, worst one. Buried under the bickering and sarcastic jabs said in jest. Hidden behind the years of academia and one-upping each other.
It reveals itself when he puts a hand on my leg. When he strokes his thumb over my knee, featherlight. Gentle and soft. A collision course we’re on, an inevitability I can’t stop. That I don’t want to stop.
Maybe it was always supposed to be him, no matter how hard I tried to fight it.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. It must be his new favorite word.
“What?” I touch my hair. I move to my cheek where my lipstick is probably smudged. “Did I—”
Sebastian moves his palm to my stomach, rubbing along the underside of my breast. It’s impossible not to smile at his pink cheeks. At his rumpled hair, perfectly disheveled. A piece sticks up by his ear, and I want to tuck it away.
“You’re so beautiful,” he croaks, sounding as if it’s the most tortured thing he’s ever said.
Heat moves up my spine when his gaze cuts to my chest. The compliment is unfamiliar, and I don’t know where to put it. Close to my heart? Buried behind my ribs? Should I throw it away, because keeping it goes against the rules we put in place?
“You’re just saying that so I’ll get you off.”
“No.” Sebastian cups my cheek. My underwear is still wrapped around his wrist, a prize he’s glad he won.
I can smell myself on him. I can see the gleam of what looks like adoration in his eyes, but it must be the trick of the light.
Something I’m imagining in my post-orgasm fog.
“I could not get any action tonight, and I’d fall asleep happy. ”
“Really?” I arch an eyebrow. “Elaborate.”
“I’ve used my hand many times throughout my life. The most recent was two nights ago, actually.”
“Two nights ago?” The image of him on his bed, palm wrapped around his length while he stroked up and down with the pace he likes floods my mind. The vision is filthy, depraved, but I wish I could’ve been there to watch. “You did?”
“Yeah.” He hooks his fingers under my chin. “Want to know what I thought about before I came?”
“Tornadoes?” I whisper, and his laugh is booming.
“Close. I thought about you, Quincy, and not even anything sexual about you. I fucked my fist to the idea of you talking about clouds. To the little lines you get around your eyes when something makes you happy.” This laugh is softer, as if he can’t believe he revealed his biggest secret to me.
“We could sit here and look at the NHC’s marine forecasts.
Or I could pull up some old chasing videos I filmed back in college so we can argue over which way the funnel cloud is rotating.
I could eat you out again.” There’s a long pause, his gaze returning to mine. “Or I could leave.”
“No.”
“No?” His mouth twitches in the corner, the makings of a smirk. “Can you be more specific?”
“I don’t want you to leave. I told you I wanted you to stay.”
“Anything else you want me to do?”
“Get on your back. Please,” I add as an afterthought. “So I can really see you.”
He moves slowly, everything unhurried. He positions himself on the mattress, knee propped up and arms starfished across the bed. “Like this?”
“Just like that.”
I take my time looking at him because there’s so much to see: a tiny scratch on his abdomen. Hair in a neat line leading down his stomach. A deep breath, and I look at his cock sitting thick and hard between his legs.
I flush at how big he is. My body temperature rises while I appreciate his long shaft and the pre-cum glistening on the head.
The vein that runs up the side and the familiar way he curls his hand around himself and gives a tug, the underwear of mine he’s keeping bobbing up and down with the movements of his wrist.
“This is just from getting you off. You don’t need to touch me and I’m hard,” he rasps, and a current pulses through me. His free hand moves to my waist, but he stops. Props himself up on an elbow. “Holy shit. Your secret tattoo.”
“Oh.” I glance at the small design etched above my hip bone and laugh. “You didn’t notice it earlier?”
“I was too busy noticing other things, but I’m here now. I knew you had one. And it … raindrops. Of course.”
“For my show. Cheesy, but … I don’t know. It’s a reminder of how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am today. I’m proud of myself, and I wanted something to commemorate that.”
“I like it.” He traces the outline of each one, five in total. “It’s simple. Sexy. A surprise if someone is lucky enough to get you out of your clothes. A special treat for the people who really know you.”
I don’t know how many people really know me. Not many, and even fewer like this, but Sebastian does now.
“That’s exactly what I was going for.”
“Hmm.” He outlines the markings again. “I wanted you before I saw it, but now I want you even more.”
“Rain turns you on?”
“No, Quincy.” Voice as rough as gravel, he takes my hand and brings it to his length.
He wraps my fingers around his shaft, guiding me, and I stroke him once.
Again, when he lifts his hips and squeezes his eyes shut, lips parting with an exhale.
“You turn me on. You have to know what you do to me. What you’ve been doing to me for years. ”
I’m starting to understand, but the evidence is overwhelming when I bring my hand down his cock then back up. His breathing changes from steady and sure to weak and fragile. He collapses onto the mattress, head on the pillows and fingers on my wrist, like he wants to be a part of the moment too.
In an act of boldness, I keep my eyes locked on his.
I pull my hand away and spit in the center of my palm, stroking him again.
My confidence grows with every desperate groan that works its way up from the back of his throat.
My nerves settle when he whimpers, low and indecent.
It’s a noise I’ll replay late at night when I’m alone, touching myself to the aching memory of his mouth.
“Fuck.” His neck elongates. “Quincy. That feels so good.”
“Could you come like this?”
“I’m doing long algebra while I wonder what it would be like to finish on your tits.” He laughs again, skeptical. “I want to make a fucking mess of you.”
I mimic his position from earlier; the sheets cool against my stomach as I press a kiss to the tip of his shaft. I run my tongue up the length of him, his restraint slipping by the second. “You’ve never been careful with me, Sebastian. I dare you to stop holding back.”
His palm moves to my head, looping a handful of hair around his wrist and yanking—hard. It catches me off guard and makes me gasp, but I don’t fight it. I smile instead.
“Open up.” The demand is brimming with lust, and I would do anything he asked. My mouth parts. I wrap my lips around his shaft, savoring the weight of his cock, heavy on my tongue. It’s my turn to moan when I taste him, salty and new. “There you go. That’s perfect.”
Hell.
The praise unlocks a part of myself I’ve kept away, the woman who always liked to be the best at everything.
It fuels the heat kindling inside me until it grows into a wildfire, my body alight with desire.
I lick him from base to tip. I fight back the tears that spring to my eyes, hollowing out my cheeks so I can take him deeper, deeper, every time I lower my mouth on him.
Sebastian is kind enough to let me get used to his size.
He doesn’t move, still except for the flex of his thighs, the tightening of his grip to let me know he’s still there.
But then he reaches the back of my throat, and a switch flips.
The dynamic changes. It turns rough, sensual.
Need in its rawest form, and the inability to keep our hands off each other.
There’s drool hanging from my mouth and sweat on my forehead. My hair sticks to the back of my neck and tears stain my cheeks. Some part of me acknowledges I should be embarrassed by how messy I am, but I’m not.
How can I be, when every single moment between us has been building to this: High school. College. His weeks back in town and sharing secrets.
Sebastian murmurs encouragement. There’s affection when I’m not sure I can last another second. Admiration when I do something new he likes: swirling my tongue, scraping my nails up his leg.
The groan he lets out when his length disappears completely in my mouth—my nose brushing against his thigh and my heart somewhere near my toes when he whispers how well I’m doing—is possessed. It’s the splintered pieces of a man close to unraveling, and a rush of pride swells in me.
“If this is how good it is with your mouth—” His fingers comb through my hair, careful to work out the knots he finds. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life dreaming about what your pussy feels like.”
There’s a drugstore less than ten minutes up the road. It wouldn’t take long to grab a box of condoms. Maybe he could push the front seat back and let me straddle him in a dark and dimly lit parking lot. We wouldn’t need to make it back to my house.