TWENTY-EIGHT Sebastian
I all but drag Quincy into the bathroom and slam the door shut.
I find the matches I left out and light a new candle.
I wash my hands. She wipes her cuts clean, then my mouth never leaves hers.
I’m relying on my other senses: the feel of dirt smudged on her cheek, the sound of her breathing shifting from even to labored.
And I kiss her like the world is caving in around us.
For a minute there, it was.
I move my lips to her cheek, her neck. I smile when she moans and grips my arms.
“I was so worried about you,” she gasps, dropping her head against the door behind her. Pieces of her hair escape from the bun on top of her head, and there’s a leaf tangled in the strands. “I thought—”
“When I saw you and knew you were okay, it felt like I could breathe for the first time in years.” I make quick work of her soaked shirt, dropping the heavy material on the tile floor.
Goose bumps dot her bare torso, and I rub my hands down her arms in an attempt to warm her up.
“I would’ve crawled back to you if I had to. ”
“Helping ducks in a hurricane.” Quincy pops the button on my jeans, wrestling with the zipper. I help her drag it down, stopping when she can wiggle my pants off. They fall to my ankles, and I step out of them. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
The second I lost sight of her in the rain, my heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. My roar was as loud as the wind calling her name, and I clawed and climbed over downed trees until I finally found her. Safe, unharmed, the whole while a thought pounding in my head.
I like her.
I like her so fucking much.
It might even be something more than that.
Telling her that would scare the shit out of her.
It’s not what she signed up for, so what I can’t say in words, I plan to say with my hands and my mouth.
With a kiss to her thigh and two fingers deep inside her.
I put a hand on her stomach, lowering myself to the ground until I’m eye level with her shorts.
Her breathing hitches again when I pop the silver button and lean forward, pulling the zipper down with my teeth.
“Are you okay?” I kiss the tattoo on her hip, taking off the pair of denims. Her underwear is black tonight, the same shade as the sky outside, and I tangle my fingers in the stretchy waistband. “Do I need to bandage you up?”
“No. Just scrapes. But your knee. You had trouble walking and—”
“I’m okay. I’m already healed. I’m in heaven right now, actually.”
“Since when did you become religious?” Her back arches when I yank her underwear down, too, leaving her in only a bra. “You don’t strike me as that kind of guy.”
“I’m on my knees in front of you, ready to worship. Consider me converted. A changed man.” I put her foot on my shoulder, running my hand up the inside of her leg. “Your pussy is my altar.”
Her laugh is a mangled noise, catching in the back of her throat when I kiss her clit. I circle my tongue, a forearm across her lower stomach so she’s forced to stay in place. Quincy tries to squirm, tries to find more friction by lifting her hips, but I pull away.
“You are the bane of my existence,” she pants, clawing at my shoulders. Her nails are sharp, jagged bites on my skin, and it makes me grin.
Funny.
She’s the bane of mine, but in a different way.
There’s her and there’s me, and someone with a whole lot of power decided I was lucky enough to live in the same timeline as her, and it’s the most overwhelming part of my entire being.
“You must loathe me.” I drag my tongue from her knee to the apex of her thigh, blowing a hot breath of warm air against her entrance. She whimpers, curling her toes on my shoulders, and my cock aches in my briefs. “Tell me how much.”
“I don’t know if I hate you anymore.” Her eyelashes flutter closed, exhale heavy.
Her hands dance up her body, touching her chest and pulling down the cups of her bra.
Her tits spill free, and I see the marks I made two nights ago, incapable of being with her and not leaving behind a souvenir that proves I was lucky enough to be there. “And it’s so fucking confusing.”
That makes two of us.
What isn’t confusing is how much I want her, the need only growing when she puts a hand on the back of my head, urging me forward with a silent demand. I smile, happy to submit to her willingly, and I nip at the sensitive skin at her waist.
“You don’t hate this, either, do you?” I touch her clit with my thumb. She’s wet, ready, and I hold her open with two fingers. “This you love.”
“Only when you do it.”
Quincy puts her free hand on the towel rack above her head, holding the fixture tight while I push two fingers inside of her.
She hisses and I groan, the noises echoing in the small space.
In here, we’re safe. In here, I can protect.
In here, I can have her however I want, which is why I push up on my knees, tall enough to reach her chest with my mouth.
I bite her nipple then smooth over the sting with my tongue, my free hand tracing her body up to her neck and settling right against the hollow of her throat.
Her pulse drums under my touch, heart beating rapidly while she gasps for air.
“Okay?” I ask, barely stopping to come up and breathe.
“More,” she pleads, circling her hips against my fingers. “I need—I want—” She grabs my necklace, tugging on it hard enough I have to look up at her. It’s embarrassing how much that burst of aggressiveness from her turns me on. Then she says, “Show me you’re okay. That you’re not hurt.”
A silent agreement passes between us. She trusts me not to hurt her. I trust her to check in and let me know if something is too rough, and I lose myself in her.
I lose myself in her cunt, wet and tight and begging for another finger. I whisper encouragement when I do what she asks, three fingers deep and fucking her while she drenches my hand. I may never wash it again.
I lose myself in her tits and the way I flick my tongue against her hard nipples. She starts to slide down the door, the sweat on her back and her wet hair making it difficult for her to stay in position, so I stand, hooking her leg around my waist and bringing my mouth close to her ear.
“You’re so fucking pretty when you come undone for me, Quincy,” I whisper, kissing her hard to cut off her moan.
She whines against my mouth, desperate for release.
I’m desperate for it, too, wanting to feel her when she falls apart.
My fingers move in and out of her, rough, unkind, but she doesn’t complain.
“After this, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think straight. ”
That tips her over the edge, the echo of my name filling the small space around us. She holds on to me, afraid to let go, and I work her through the orgasm. I don’t stop until I get a second one out of her, smaller than the first but just as good, and she starts to plead with me.
“Too much,” she says, touching my wrist. “I can’t—Sebastian. It’s too much. Too good. Please.”
“I’ve got you.” I slow my fingers in time with her breathing. She’s shaking with trembling limbs and a heaving chest. So fucking beautiful. I kiss her again, letting her melt into me as I drag my fingers across her stomach. When she calms down, I grip her chin. “Get in the tub, Quincy.”
She nods and moves slowly, body exhausted. Unhooking her bra, she lets it fall to the floor. She climbs over the ledge of the porcelain, resting against the tiled wall behind her. “Are you going to join me?”
“Yeah.” I ditch my briefs and puff out my chest when her gaze roams down my body. Weeks together, and she still looks at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. I wrap a hand around my cock and stroke up and down twice, already hard from watching her get off. “Do you like what you see?”
“I love what I see.” She licks her lips, extending her arm and reaching for me. I join her in the tub, adjusting our positions so she’s on top. She straddles me, a leg on either side of my hips, and holds herself above me. “I want you to fuck me.”
“I want that too.” I groan when she lowers herself, the head of my cock pushing against the entrance to her pussy. “But I didn’t think this through. I didn’t bring a condom. Having sex in the middle of a hurricane wasn’t something I planned for.”
“What if we didn’t use one?” Quincy puts her hands on the wall behind me for leverage.
She sinks down, getting deeper this time before pulling off me again.
My nails dig into the side of the tub, restraint waning thin.
“I’m on birth control. And I haven’t been with anyone since we started sleeping together.
Exclusive, remember?” she whispers, nipping at my ear.
“If we do that, we might have a problem.” I move my hands to her waist, gripping her instead of the tub.
I guide her onto my cock, lifting my hips so I can bury the first few inches inside her.
“If I fuck you without a condom, I’m going to start thinking I can keep you.
” I pull out of her, teasing her when I rub my head against her clit.
Giving myself a chance to say everything important before I lose my mind. “I’m going to think you’re mine.”
Her moan is soft and pretty. She pushes her tits together, thumbs at her nipples.
The distraction makes me lose focus, and when I do, she spreads her legs wide enough for me to fully bury myself inside her.
She takes me inch by excruciating inch, every second passing far too quick.
Before I can breathe again, I’m buried to the hilt, a sensation that explodes like fireworks working up my spine.
“Maybe I am yours,” she whispers, leaning in close. Her chest brushes against mine, and there’s too much happening right now for me to think straight. Her body, her words. It’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen. “I think I’d like to be.”
Mine.
Fucking mine.
Her admission unlocks something new inside of me, and I put a hand between her shoulder blades. I fumble over my thoughts when she rolls her hips, grinding against me, and I feel the subtle shift. The change in the air.
It’s different now. More urgent, more passionate.
I fuck her methodically, unrelenting, and she matches my tempo.
Our bodies are soaked in sweat, hot from the lack of air-conditioning and the physical exertion.
I kiss each one of the freckles on her nose then move to the ones on her shoulders, wishing I could write out that word, mine, a hundred times.
“Good?” I slur, wanting to make sure she’s enjoying this as much as I am.
“Perfect,” Quincy says back, hands on my shoulders so she can ride me how she likes.
“That’s my girl,” I murmur, and her entire body flushes hot.
“I’m close. Are you—”
“I’ve been close since the second you climbed on top of me, Quinny baby.” My laugh is self-deprecating, not embarrassed by how easily she affects me. “I need you to finish first so I can, you know, relieve myself after.”
“After?” Her nose wrinkles. Her movements slow, and I brush a piece of hair out of her face. “You can— It would be all right if you …” She cuts her gaze away, rolling her hips and whimpering when I touch her clit so she looks at me again.
“If I what?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t mind if you finished inside me,” she blurts.
Jesus fuck.
All of this is too much, things I’ve thought about in a dream but never thought could come true.
“That would really make you mine, and I don’t give away things that are mine.” I tug on her hair. Her eyes meet mine. “I keep them for a very, very long time. I take care of them. I talk to them. I make them happy. How does that sound?”
There’s no thought, no questioning. One minute we’re staring at each other. The next, her mouth is on mine. Quincy kisses me, the answer I so desperately want.
She tightens around me, another orgasm sneaking up on her, and it doesn’t take long for me to follow her. When I come, I come with a groan. Shuddering while I spill inside her, relief when I’m empty and totally spent.
“Fuck,” I groan, limbs heavy. “That was—”
“Unbelievable.” Quincy laughs, dropping her forehead against mine. “God. We made a mess.”
“I like when you’re messy. I like it more when I’m the one who made you this way.” I wince, sharp pain shooting up my leg. “Ow.”
“I knew you were hurt.” She adjusts her position, looking at me. “Tell me what you need.”
“Nothing that we can do right now.” An emergency alert blares from our phones, grounding us back in reality. “But I’ll wrap it with a bandage just in case. We should probably get dressed. The water levels concern me, and we don’t need to be evacuating naked.”
“Did you mean what you said?” Quincy pulls back, covering her chest with her hands. “About being yours?”
“This isn’t just sex for me. Not anymore,” I tell her. “And I don’t think it is for you either.”
“No.” She shakes her head, a smile there. “It’s not. I don’t fuck my friends like that.”
“I hope to god you don’t. I really don’t want to get in a physical altercation with Nate or Cooper.”
Quincy laughs and climbs off me, sitting in the space between my legs. “Only you.” She touches her cheek, then her heart. “No one else.”
There isn’t anyone else for me, either, and all I can think about while we wait out the rest of the storm is figuring out a way to stick around town and not leave her for New York.
THE RAINY DAY SHOW COMMENT SECTION
@ItsRainingPugs: Has anyone heard an update from S&Q? The last footage they posted was over a day ago. I hope they’re okay.
@BeakersAndBarometers: Cell service is always shitty after a storm. I bet they haven’t been able to get online. My mom is in Port Charlotte, near where they are, and I just got off the phone with her for the first time.
@AlexG007: Is your mom okay, @BeakersAndBarometers?
@BeakersAndBarometers: Yes! Feeling very grateful. Thanks for asking, @AlexG007.
@PoisonIvy3: The last live stream Quincy did was harrowing. My god. The sounds in the video were from out of this world. Hoping everyone in the path is doing okay.