Chapter 17 #2
Reaching over, I place my hand on her panties and curl my fingers, bunching them in my fist.
Fuck this.
Fuck it.
I love her more than Farrow Kelly and Noah Van der Berg ever could. If it’s someone tonight, it’s me.
“Quinn,” I whisper. “Pull up your shirt.”
My voice is almost choked, my cock straining to grow under my clothes as I watch her on my screen.
Keeping one hand on the phone at her ear, she lowers her eyes and watches herself tug my T-shirt up, baring her stomach and then her breasts.
Dark pink nipples point at me, the perfect shape of her soft skin.
Plump and flawless. Leaving the shirt just above her tits, she leans back, looking up at me.
I can’t fucking think anymore. “Open your legs…”
She spreads her bent knees, my mouth going dry and dying for the smooth skin inside her thighs.
I groan, “Wider, baby.”
She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and opens her legs more.
“Wider.”
And she opens them so wide, one foot drops off the side of the bed, the other leg still bent. Her body sits in full view, spread eagle with her breasts making me so goddamn hungry.
“You know what to do,” I pant. “I’m watching you.”
Setting her phone on the bed, she leans back on one hand and slides the other inside her panties, and within a minute, her head is falling back and she’s rolling her hips into her fingers.
She doesn’t know that I’ve already seen her do this, but I could watch it a million times.
“Where are you?” she calls out, and I can tell she has me on speaker.
Rising, I gaze at her as I unfasten my jeans. “In the guest room.”
“Tell me what you look like.”
We could video chat, but I love having this view of her. As if I’m sneaking a peek at something she thinks she’s alone for.
I wrap my hand around my cock, stroking the long, hard length. “Just muscle, baby. I look like muscle right now. Everything is hard for you. My whole body.”
I want to drive into her so goddamn much—my fingers, my tongue, my cock…
Taking her panties, I drop down onto the bed and slide them inside my pants, the cool cotton touching my dick.
I moan, slowly and gently stroking them up and down my length.
“Do they feel good?” she asks, rubbing herself.
“They feel like trouble.”
She lets out a little laugh. “Do you have any idea how I would feel?”
“I’ll never know,” I maintain, and I mean it. “I’m not the one for you, Quinn.”
To my surprise, she says, “I know.”
She does? I try to ignore the disappointment—or the aggravation—that she’s so easily put off.
I want her to forget me.
I need her to forget me.
“You can’t quit life in a city like that,” she goes on, “and come back here to Friday nights at the Loop, bake sales, and Fourth of July picnics.” She moans. “And my brothers would never look at you the same, would they?”
I look down, my pre-cum wetting her panties. Fire starts to spill off my skin as my muscles burn.
Would they tell me I couldn’t fucking have her? I know they would. They’ll kill me. But to hear her say it makes it more real.
“I wouldn’t want Madoc to resent you,” she tells me. “I know it won’t be you. It’ll be someone else.”
I shake my head slowly.
“Can I show you what I want it to be like with him, whoever he’ll be?”
She rolls her hips, her back arching and her waist rising up again and again.
If I’d stayed, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from tasting her until she screamed.
I hold my phone over my head, looking up at her as I lie back on the bed. “I’m watching.”
She slips her panties off her ass and slides them down her legs. “Good,” she taunts, “because that’s what I want. I want him obsessed with watching me, and I want to see you at family gatherings someday, knowing you loved watching me too.”
She pulls a rope out of her bedside drawer, but as she wraps it around the post on her footboard, I see it’s not a rope at all. It’s a long string of pearls—about two feet. The kind women loop around their neck two or three times.
I can barely breathe as I watch her remove the T-shirt and kneel on the bed, securing the string of beads.
Straddling the rope with one knee on the bed and one foot on the ground, she places a hand behind her, pulling the pearls taut as she takes the bed post in her other hand and starts riding them.
“Quinn…” I breathe out.
What the fuck? She slides her pussy up and down the tight necklace, each little pearl tickling her clit. A moan escapes her, then a whimper, getting louder and louder.
Where did she learn this?
“He digs his fingers into my hips,” she says, fucking her imaginary man, “staring up at me like he wants it to go all night.”
I look up at her on the screen like she’s sitting on me now.
“His breath is heavy, pumping his hips up and pressing himself deeper…” She coos. “…and deeper inside me.”
I squeeze my dick, rubbing her panties over the drip seeping out.
“The room is dark.” Her voice shakes. “The air is thick, and he sticks his thumb in my mouth so all of his friends in the next room don’t hear me coming.”
I thrust my hips, pumping my dick into my hand. So all of her brothers in the next room don’t hear her…
Jerking her hips, she rides faster, her breasts bobbing.
“But he just stops caring,” I tell her, joining in, “because he pulls you forward and covers your breast with his mouth.”
She follows my lead, leaning forward, and I feel my arm around her waist, pressing her flesh between my lips.
“He glides his tongue over your nipple,” I say.
She whimpers. “It feels good.”
“What does he feel like?”
“Hard.” She starts crying out. “And thick, like a rod pumping into me.”
“Fuck him,” I beg. “Fuck him, baby.”
I fucking wish I was him.
“I’m dripping down his cock.”
“Fuck him harder,” I growl.
“I will.”
Her ass bounces back and forth, and I’m mesmerized. Her lush hips moving as beautifully as a feather riding the wind. She’s done this before.
She won’t be so quiet in her own house, I’m guessing.
“Harder,” I gasp.
I’m so lost in watching Quinn, her hair spread around her arms and in her face as I feel myself under her and behind her and in five other positions, that I don’t realize I’ve stopped stroking.
All I wanna do is watch her. If I can’t touch her…
Sweat covers my chest. “You’re so beautiful.” And I can feel her between my teeth. “He’ll clean you up with his fucking tongue.”
I know, because I would.
She shoots up, straightening her spine, and throws her head back, crying out.
What is she thinking about?
Is she thinking about me?
Who’s she fucking?
Her orgasm spreads through her body, first paralyzing her breath and making the thrusts turn to a steady rocking.
Then…she slows to a stop.
I don’t realize my mouth is open, like I’m going through it with her, until my throat is as dry as the desert.
I stare up at her, dying to hold her. I don’t think I can do this again.
I need to smell her skin.
“You still there?” I hear her ask softly.
She’s so wet by now. I know it.
“Quinn…” I breathe out.
That was number eight on her birthday list. Perform for someone.
“Do you think he’ll like it?” she asks.
“He better. He should be so lucky.” I swallow a couple of times to wet my mouth. “No one is good enough to have you.”
She climbs off the pearls and kneels on the bed, sitting on her feet. Her breasts still point at me. “I won’t fall in love with Farrow or Noah. Promise.” She looks up at the camera, to me. “If it’s this good with the right person, then I’ll wait for him.”
Yeah.
I’ll be at her wedding someday, and this will just be some awakening secret we’ll never tell her brothers about.
But I can’t help the spark in my heart that she would see written all over my face if she could see me. I love to look at her. “Put some clothes on.”
“’Kay.” She grins, picking up the phone and holding it to her ear. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I end the call and close the camera app. My dick is as hard as a rock, and I should just finish myself off, but a pickax is driving into my brain. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m so fucking horny, or because I’m a piece of shit, but I know I won’t be able to sleep.
In three minutes, I’m in my gym clothes and in Jared’s car, speeding out of the driveway.
It’s after ten, the gym will be empty, and it’ll be a blessing if I don’t get any sleep tonight. I’m counting on my exhaustion to keep me away from her tomorrow.
Jacking up the music, I cruise into town, park, and charge inside, heading straight upstairs.
Sticking in my earbuds, the song I had playing in my car continues in my ears—“Hats Off to the Bull”—and I jump onto the track.
I just go, not pacing myself as I dig in my heels and race so hard that I hope I hurt myself. It’s what I deserve.
Even if my mistakes weren’t hanging over my head like a dagger, I’m too old for her.
I mean, she’s a damn kid. I remember being that age.
I was an idiot, and worse than most, but no one wants the same things they thought they wanted at that age once they get older.
What’s the part of the brain that handles good decision-making?
The pre-frontal cortex? It’s the last part of our minds to mature, and it doesn’t happen till our late twenties.
I should be ashamed of myself. It’s one thing if a guy her age is taking advantage of her, but me? Fuck!
I do four miles on the track, not the slightest bit tired, because the more I run, the more I think. And the more pissed I get. One more fucking thing that I can’t undo or take back.
I move to the weights as my phone buzzes, a call from Lance coming in.
I skip the call. Another male, separate from the family, might be pretty amazing to talk to right now, but being around him just makes me want the life he has.
It makes me think being in love with someone younger isn’t a bad idea when I see how happy he is, and he’s no help.
He wants me to have a woman here. To fall in love and stay.
I lift a dumbbell, curling my arm over and over again.
Don’t touch her again. Don’t touch her. Don’t watch her.
She’s beautiful and gentle and bright, and she notices the little things as if they’re all wrapped in chocolate.
She’s a sanctuary, and I’m desperate for it. Desperate for everything she is, but I’m making shitty decisions as if I’m her age.
Because she makes me hope for the future.
She makes me think nothing else matters.
I bite down, the memory of her tonight warming my body.
Don’t fucking touch her again. I don’t want to end up a bad memory for her.
I curl my arm up with too much power and the dumbbell goes flying over my shoulder. Whipping around, I see it crash to the carpeted floor, a man yanking his leg out of the way just before it lands on his foot.
“Shit,” I blurt out, rushing over to where he stands at the lat machine. “Sorry.” I pick up the dumbbell. “You okay?”
The gentleman, gray dusting the sides of his brown hair, doesn’t miss a beat in his reps. He continues pulling down the bar, smirking at me over his shoulder.
“Should I be flattered?” he asks.
Huh?
Then his eyes drop to my pants, and I look, seeing the fucking hard-on thinking of Quinn started stirring again.
I turn. Son of a bitch.
“Kidding,” he calls out. “I know who that’s probably for. I saw you the other night, working out with her.”
“With who?”
“Quinn Caruthers,” he says. “The local baker.”
I twist back around. Who is this guy? Green eyes sparkle from behind slightly weathered skin and a five o’clock shadow. Maybe ten years older than me, but he’s in shape. I don’t recognize him. Madoc must know him. He knows everybody.
Did he notice something between Quinn and me? “This isn’t…” I stammer. “It’s not—”
“It’s nice, working out in here so late, isn’t it?” he cuts me off. “Empty, quiet, no eyes watching—”
I narrow my brow.
He smiles at me again. “When you got a special place, you want to keep it to yourself. Am I right?”
I go still. It doesn’t feel like we’re talking about the gym.
He lets the bar go and picks up his towel, walking up to me.
“I don’t mind sharing this place with you, though,” he tells me, gesturing to my pants. “As long as you keep that thing out of the fucking showers.”
I have no idea what the hell he’s on about, but I force a laugh at his last joke. I offer my hand before I go. “Lucas Morrow,” I tell him.
“Deacon,” he says, taking it. “Doran.”
I nod. Never heard of him. Maybe he doesn’t know Quinn’s family, after all.
“See you around.” And I jump on the treadmill, determined to stay there until I’m too tired to think about breathing, much less the panties still in my bed.