28. Quinn
CHAPTER 28
QUINN
“ W hen are you going to ask me?” I ask Knox later, when we’re back at my apartment and I’m climbing into his lap after tearing the clothes from his body.
He’s distracted with the way I’m pressing open mouthed kisses to his bare chest and sliding my soaking pussy across his hard cock with a swirl of my hips, so it takes a minute for my words to settle. Those jade eyes flick away from where he’s watching me grind down on him, his lids fluttering as he tries to focus on me. “What?”
I huff a laugh and his fingers tighten on my hips in warning. Again, I rock against him, our moans mixing together as I melt into his chest.
“When are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend?” I ask, cheeks burning with the question. Back at the spray painting place he had made it seem like I’m his muse, and if that’s true, then that means I’m the one who gives him inspiration and drive to create art. I’ll be damned if I’m doing all this work to inspire him and I don’t even get the title of girlfriend .
His smirk only makes my cheeks flare hotter. Knox leans up, capturing my lips against his in a kiss that almost makes me forget the question I just blurted.
Almost.
“Impatient little thing,” he says against my mouth, like he can’t get enough of me. Knox bucks his hips and my breath catches, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his crown against my clit. His eyes are hot on me and it makes me want to shrink away, embarrassed about my outburst. “That what you want, Princess?”
I shrug, feeling shy all of a sudden. What if this isn’t something he wants? What if it’s just casual fun for him? My heart clenches at the thought, but before I can draw back, he’s twisting his fingers into my hair and directing my gaze back to his. “If you want.”
“Is this answer imperative to how the rest of the night goes?” He asks, reaching between us to rub his cock in a long stroke across my wet pussy. When I arch into him and try to throw my head back on my shoulders, his firm grip keeps me from doing so. Little does Knox know, I’m enjoying the slight burn I feel when my hair tugs with the movement.
There’s a light in his eyes, and the way that he’s unable to hide that smile, the one that has the corner of his mouth tugging up, has my shoulders relaxing, brings some of my fight back.
“I mean, I can go next door and?—”
“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence, Princess,” Knox growls, grabbing my hips to roll us over. I squeal at the swift movement and suddenly I’m pressed into the mattress with Knox’s looming form towering over me. His eyes are sharp with a possessiveness that makes my heart skip and my breath catch in my chest. My body tingles with electricity at his following words. “You’re all fucking mine. ”
It's my turn to grin wickedly, to tease him, because if there’s anything about our relationship that’s guaranteed, it’s the teasing. It’s always been us, and always will be us, the only difference now, is that I think I might be in love?—
“If I’ll have you, you mean,” I nip at Knox’s lips, distracting myself to avoid finishing that thought. I stretch, biting the smooth skin between his pectorals as I settle further into him, his warmth and the way that his hands haven’t stopped moving along my skin since I pushed him into bed is intoxicating. “Which means that you’d have to ask me, first. See if I even want you back.”
“Oh, but I know you do, Princess,” Knox’s voice takes on a low edge that makes me want to scream. I can feel it vibrating from his chest, pressed tightly against mine. His weight is comforting in the best way, and I’m reveling in it. “I know you want all of this to yourself.”
He follows his words by nestling the head of his cock between my folds. I squirm, trying to get him to press further into me, but Knox holds strong, stilling my hips with his hands. My chest heaves with anticipation. I want him inside of me right fucking now, and I’m regretting taunting him already.
The keen that escapes when his mouth moves to my neck betrays my words. “S’not that special,” I slur blissfully, craning my neck to give him more room. I can feel his laughter puffing against my skin and I rake my fingers down his arms when he finds that spot that makes me weak.
He hums like he believes me and the vibrations travel all the way down to my toes. Knox’s fingers take a torturous path, brushing down the center of my body, slipping between us to tease my throbbing clit. The head of his condom covered cock breaches my entrance and I cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping me connected to reality .
“How about I show you how special my cock is, and then I ask you to be my girlfriend?” Knox proposes, fingers scooping up some of my slick, using it to circle his motions faster.
“How about you ask me to be your girlfriend and then you show me how not special your cock is?” I counter, but I’ll do just about anything to have him pressing all the way in.
“Fine,” he relents. “But if I make you orgasm more than twice, you can’t call my cock ‘not special’ ever again. You have to refer to it as ‘the most special cock you’ve ever had the pleasure of coming on,’ Princess. Oh, and that it’s pretty, too.”
Fuck, it really is pretty.
Before I can come up with a witty retort, Knox is pushing in, and the words are ripped from my throat as he works himself all the way into the hilt in one swift thrust. Immediately, my legs wind around his hips, holding him to me as we share a groan of pleasure.
We’ve been torturing each other.
“Kind of a mouthful, don’t you think?” I pant when he begins moving. My fingers are buried deeply in his hair, and I use my leverage to pull his face down to mine, pressing my mouth against his in my own way of trying to distract him.
“More than a mouthful, Princess, as you well know.” Knox smirks when we part, and I pinch his side. It’s hard because he’s all muscle but I manage, not that it affects him in the slightest. Asshole. “You want it? You’re going to have to agree to my terms.”
“Did you want a blood oath, or…” Knox pulls back and I whimper, my pussy clenching around him when his cock is just about to slip all of the way out of me. I scramble, heart pounding in my chest and my eyes flying wide, and I’m cl awing down his back, begging to keep his cock stuffed inside of me. “Fine! Fine.”
Knox leans down, and the way that his cock plunges a centimeter further into my aching pussy has me gasping, moaning against his mouth when he rewards me with a kiss. I want to bite the smirk right off his lips but he tastes too good, and his tongue is swirling against mine, making me forget. “Was going to ask you to be my girlfriend anyway, Princess, even if you hadn’t agreed.”
Shifting my hips helps guide him deeper inside me, but it’s not enough. I need him moving now. I need to feel his cock pistoning into me, stretching me out, shoving the air from my lungs and taking me like he’s losing control of his body.
“Well, good for you, Knox,” I whine, but he’s still not moving. Dammit, has he always been so strong-willed? Quickly sifting through ideas, I realize all too fast that my only option really is giving him what he wants. Sighing, I peer up at him, glaring when I see his lip tucked between his teeth, his face all too amused at my desperation. “I’ll take some of the most special cock I’ve ever had the pleasure of coming on,” I grit. “Though that is yet to be determined.”
My taunt does nothing to irk him into moving. Instead, Knox releases that lip, letting that wicked yet breath-taking smirk shine. His jade eyes are glittering. “You forgot pretty, Princess. It’s pretty, too, isn’t it?”
“Come on then, pretty,” I whine, on the verge of screaming.
“I don’t think so, I haven’t held up my part of the bargain yet.” His words are followed by him pressing himself the rest of the way inside of me, and I’m sure he’s enjoying the way that the tension leaves my body when he’s nestled to the hilt again. It’s better, so much better being full of him like this, but Knox is still refusing to continue and my poor clit is about three seconds from shriveling up and falling off if she isn’t granted the attention she’s owed.
I want him to start moving, need him to start moving, but Knox has gone all serious suddenly, capturing my hands in his own and pinning them to the bed when I try to snake a hand between us to relieve myself.
“Will you be my girlfriend, Quinn?”
“Yes,” I cry out, feeling so full that my heart could burst. He releases my hands as soon as I’m moving, dragging him down to me for a kiss that’s hot and desperate and a little sloppy. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend, Knox. Now, please move, baby, I need your cock.”
Knox’s gaze goes molten at my acceptance. He pulls his hips back and presses them forward again, finally giving me the friction we’ve both been desperately craving.
“Of course, Princess. Let’s give you what you need.”
Things slowly begin to enter a new normal.
I go to class, see my friends, and spend most nights with my boyfriend, licking, teasing, tasting each other on every available inch of skin we can find. The five of us hang out as a group and I’ve never been happier.
I’m even passing Art History, thanks to Knox’s fool-proof system of studying: a sexual favor in exchange for every correct answer I give him when he quizzes me.
For the most part, everything seems like a dream. Compared to the beginning of the year, it is. There’s still that nagging feeling of imposter syndrome inside of me that I just can’t seem to get over, though .
As I sit in the art building working on my latest project for Beatrice’s drawing class, I’m not entirely sure what to do. It’s the last project of the semester, and I’ve started and restarted the drawing three times already, all of my attempted creativity fizzling out as quickly as it comes.
Currently, I’m on the cusp of tears. It’s late and I’m frustrated. I don’t like anything I’m putting down, and there is only a week until the semester ends. Even if I didn’t turn this project in, I’d still pass the class, but that’s not the point. It’s not so much about the grade—which my parents and GPA might disagree with—but about the art, about the passion that I’m still trying to find for drawing.
It's not from lack of trying. I’ve been struggling to force myself to tap into my inner creative and find my muse, just like Knox said. I want to create something that I’m proud of, but there’s nothing for my heart to grasp onto, no genius ideas that make me want to pour my soul onto the paper.
I’m starting to think I might have to give up art altogether.
Rory offered to tag along, but she finished her project fairly quickly after it was assigned, and things have been a little awkward with Reid since I told him about Knox and I.
Well, he found out, more like.
Naturally, the event occurred after one of our drawing classes. Knox had picked me up, looking glorious in the sun where he stood all leaned up against his parked motorcycle like a badass, sexy as hell in his leather jacket with his helmet hooked under his arm and a second one perched on the seat of his bike, waiting for me.
I can admit that I’m starting to enjoy riding his motorcycle with him. He’s even taken me to his favorite spot where he often goes to draw or think, escaping the stressors of life back on campus like his father pestering him and the apprenticeships he keeps interviewing for.
“Quinn, hold on a second,” Reid said, stopping me with a hand from descending the stairs of the building to meet Knox. Rory continued downward after I gently waved her on, but I didn’t miss the way that Knox’s eyes narrowed.
“What’s up, Reid?” I asked, although I already knew what he was wondering. It didn’t take a genius to figure out whatever Knox and I started out as is now the complete opposite. He’s no longer my infuriating neighbor, but something so much more than that.
“What’s going on with him?” He asked, jerking his head to where Rory and Knox were talking quietly. The latter watched Reid and my interaction with intense eyes. “I thought you two didn’t like each other, but now you’re hanging out with him all of the time? Did I miss something?”
A pang of guilt gnawed at my stomach. I felt bad for not telling Reid about my new relationship with Knox, but I’d been wanting to tell him over coffee or lunch, and with the end of the semester projects and tests coming up, the both of us had been too busy to properly hang out.
My cheeks blazed and it was hard to look him in his eyes when he seemed so confused, so hurt. “Yeah, um, Knox and I are sort of dating now.”
He frowned at me, and for the first time in our friendship, I felt like a terrible friend.
Reid frowned. “Sort of?”
“We are.” I shook my head, answering him more solidly that time. “We’re dating.”
I didn’t miss the betrayal that flashed through his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
I sighed, kicking and digging the tip of my shoe into the concrete for something else to focus on. I didn’t like the way that Reid was looking at me, like I was no longer his friend, which wasn’t the case at all. If there was something more to our friendship, he hadn’t made it known.
It seemed like Knox had enough, pushing up from his motorcycle to ascend the stairs. His strides were long, sure, and his spine lengthened with each step closer, his chest puffing bigger, his shoulders widening.
“Hey, Princess.”
“Knox,” I greeted with a nervous smile, accepting the way he tucked me into his side and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I felt them burn quickly with the blatant display of our relationship in front of Reid. “This is Reid,” I spoke nervously. “Reid, this is Knox.”
The two of them stared, sizing each other up. It made me shift on my feet and Knox’s arm around my waist only tightened, showing me off, staking his claim.
It was awkward beyond belief, to say the least. Neither of them greeted each other and it was as if they had both been waiting for the other to break eye contact first so that the other could snap at their neck like a rabid dog. I shot a look towards Rory, but her head was buried in her phone, an enormous smile on her face, completely oblivious to the pissing contest that was happening right up the stairs.
A muscle ticked in Reid’s jaw before he ripped his gaze away from Knox to settle back on mine. The caramel eye sharp and confused, the blue sad and untrusting. It made my chest ache, and my words twisted on my tongue. I wasn’t able to get anything out before Reid abruptly said, “I have to go, actually, before I’m late. I’ll see you around, Quinn.”
“Reid,” I called, but he’d already turned down the stairs and was brushing past Rory, whose eyebrows furrowed with concern at the sight of him. She tried to speak to him as well, but he brushed her off gently. When she shifted her bright azure eyes on me, confusion swimming in them like pools, I deflated into Knox’s side.
I feel similar now to how I did then, defeated and glum. The piece of drawing paper before me is filled with the darkness from my charcoal, my fingers coated in the chalky substance, and the shapes I’ve been sketching stare back at me, taunting me, because no one is going to be able to finish this except for me.
It’s a fairly simple task, to draw yourself as some sort of hybrid animal that represents our inner selves, but as I look in the mirror hanging to my left, I can’t seem to figure out what kind of creature resonates with me.
Rory has drawn herself mixed with a dove, for peace and hope. Hope that she’d get over the heartbreak that Max left her with at the end of freshman year. Hope to find someone that would treat her better.
When I asked Ace, Slate, and Knox what they had done when they took this class last year, Ace had said that he drew himself with dragon features, Slate morphed himself with a grizzly bear, and Knox had drawn himself as a bat.
The last time I spoke to Reid before our friendship became strained, he’d been drawing half of his face as a fox, and I’d seen one of the other girls in our class, Wynter, I think her name is, drawing herself as a phoenix. Everyone seemed to light up with their ideas immediately when Beatrice had announced the final project, and I think I was the only one who ducked their head, unsure of what to do.
Voices down the hall startle me from my thoughts. I set my chalk down when I recognize the tenor, the laughter echoing around the silent building. Knox and Slate appear in the doorway to the classroom. Slate is splattered with clay from working on his own final sculpture of the year, something that he’s been boasting about but refuses to tell any of us what it is, and the smile that lights Knox’s face when our eyes connect is just perfect.
I didn’t realize how tense my shoulders were, but the way that they fall at the sight of him makes me realize how exhausted I actually am. There isn’t much time left until this project is due, and I’m sure to remind myself that once again: I need to focus.
But the way Knox’s gaze drags down to where my hands are settled in my lap, coated in soot from the charcoal, flaring with an impossible heat that makes my stomach flip-flop and my thighs try to shut around the drawing horse I’m straddling, I’m forgetting the deadline and the project I’ve barely started.
I’d like to straddle him instead.
“Hey, Princess,” Knox greets, leaning down to press a firm kiss to my mouth. My stomach explodes with butterflies and I can’t help but to slant against him, my energy from my long night sapped with his softness.
His hand caresses my cheek and he frowns, concerned as he examines my exhausted and frustrated state.
My heart flutters at the warmth, at the care he shows me. How he isn’t afraid to hide his hands from me because I’ve spent night after night showing him just how beautiful they are.
“Hi,” I reply with a soft yet strained smile, turning to Slate next. “Hey, Slate.”
“Hey, Quinnie. How’s the art project coming along?”
I crumple, leaning further into Knox’s warmth. “Not amazing, if I’m being honest.”
Knox squeezes my shoulders gently and I’m reminded of the conversation that we never finished, of the one I don’t want to finish, the one that I can’t finish. I shouldn’t have brought up my insecurities at all, but he’d been so brave in telling me his, and at the time it seemed like a good idea, until I chickened out.
I think I just accidentally reminded him of it, too.
He doesn’t bring it up right now, which I’m thankful for. “What’s wrong?” Knox asks, rubbing a soothing hand up and down my back. It feels good, like I could just melt right into his side and hide away for a while. “It looks like you have a solid start.”
I crinkle my nose, examining the paper. It looks more abstract than anything, and I wonder for a moment if Knox is just being nice about it. I know him better than that, though, and he would never tease me about the craft so dear to both of our hearts.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I groan. “I’ve started over three times.” All I want to do is throw my head in my hands but I don’t want to get charcoal all over my face unless Knox is the one putting it there.
Maybe having sex will help get my creativity flowing?
Knox is silent for a moment, examining my work. I can see the cogs turning in his mind, how he might help me figure out what to draw for my project. Of course, I could easily draw any animal mixed with myself, but I really want this one to have meaning behind it.
“Why don’t you take a breather and we can all grab something to eat?” Knox suggests. “A break might do you some good, and Slate and I were going to head over to Rhonda’s.”
A hot waffle and a large milkshake sounds absolutely superb right now.
I stare at the paper in front of me. I really should stay and put in a few more hours of work, but at the same time I can’t stand to stare at it any longer.
A week. I still have a week.
“Yeah, I could use a snack,” I agree, picking up my pencil case from the floor and tossing my sticks into it. “Give me a few minutes to pack up.” Standing from my drawing horse, I eye the mess of black on my hands and the clay flecked across Slate’s exposed arms. “You should too, Slate. You’re covered in clay.”
He only grins and I—once again—regret saying anything to him. “The ladies like it dirty, Quinnie. But you already know a little something about that, don’t you?”
I try to force the warmth from my cheeks when I think of just how thorough Knox had been the last time I modeled for him. How up close and personal he’d gotten with that stick of charcoal, how up close and personal he let me get with some edible paints I found online.
Sometimes, I love being an artist.
“Fuck off, Slate,” Knox gripes, flipping my large sketchpad shut. He helps me pack my things while Slate snickers, and his eyes are hot when I rub my hands together, trying to dispel some of the dust from them. He slings my backpack over his shoulder and my sketchpad under his arm while I dart off to wash my hands at the mop sink before Knox can get any more ideas.