16. Quinn
16
QUINN
T he silence that stretches between us is agonizing. And Lance’s hesitation obliterates me, opening a gaping hole in my chest as I realize that my feelings for him are probably unrequited. What happened between us tonight must have been entirely physical on his part—instinctive, nothing to do with who I am. Only that a woman kissed him and he was aroused.
And suddenly, his guilt makes sense.
He feels bad because he knows he feels nothing for me.
Meanwhile, I just bared my soul, hoping he might see me differently now.
That he might want me.
I can’t believe how stupid I was, how naive.
Lance’s deep-blue eyes leave mine, his chin dropping. And it’s the last nail in the coffin. He doesn’t want to watch my heart shatter into a million pieces when he turns me down.
Damn it, Quinn. You never should have said anything.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, and I feel myself withdrawing inside myself. Because this pain is far less bearable than having someone beat me with a riding crop or threaten to chop me into little pieces. This is someone I care about holding my heart in their hands and tossing it aside like a dirty diaper.
“I have no right to want you,” Lance rasps, his deep voice hoarse with tension.
I know how hard it is for him to speak sometimes, and that only makes this worse—because I’m the one who put us in this impossible situation. And while I want to be mad at him for hurting me, I don’t think I can. Because even though he’s done nothing wrong, he’s trying to shoulder the blame.
He swallows convulsively, his neck muscles bulging with the effort to speak, and he forces his gaze back to mine. “I have no right to want you,” he repeats more vehemently. “But that doesn’t seem to be stopping me.”
It takes a half a second for my brain to catch up. Because I honestly didn’t think that was what he would say. And then my heart swells to bursting in my chest. A surprised laugh jumps from my lips, and I smile tearfully at what is probably the sweetest thing Lance has ever uttered in my presence.
And though I know he feels guilty—conflicted about his feelings—I can’t help myself.
I fling my arms around his neck, dropping the sheets that cover my breasts and letting the fabric between us fall away as I kiss him. He tenses, his powerful arms bunching around me as his strong fingers splay across my rib cage. Like he’s unsure if he should be catching me or pushing me away.
Then, his lips soften against mine. His arms slowly snake more firmly around my body. And he gathers me close as he kisses me back with scintillating heat.
This time, our make out session is slower, more tender. His lips move with mine, exploring me rather than devouring me, body and soul. And while the pace is distinctly different from before, I can’t say I like one or the other more.
The gentle way his hands cradle my body makes me feel astonishingly cherished. Like he intends to worship me this time, rather than own me. And it feels both sweet and incredibly erotic.
His arms tighten around my waist, lifting me as he pulls me closer. And beneath the sheets, I sling a leg over his thighs, straddling him. My core throbs, my clit aching with fresh anticipation as I feel his thick length growing, hardening beneath me.
“God, I want you, Lance,” I murmur. I’ll always want him. I don’t know why, but he’s had my heart from the moment I met him. And I’ve loved him every day since.
“I want you too,” he breathes, drawing back from my lips to trail kisses down my neck.
I gasp, my nipples hardening as goose bumps rise across my flesh. My core tightens, and I roll my hips forward instinctively. Lance groans, the sound low and sultry and drawing a hot, gushing arousal to slick my already dripping pussy.
His tongue trails a searing path across my collarbone and between my breasts, and as I arch into the erotic feeling, Lance’s hands roam down my waist to palm my ass. His long fingers grip and knead the full flesh, and he pulls my hips more firmly against him, grinding into me.
I’m tender from our first time around, and still, it feels so good, I respond eagerly. Rocking forward to rub myself against him. His lips close around my nipple, and I shudder with the intense arousal. Goose bumps flash across my neck and arms, my taut nubs suddenly hard enough to cut glass. A knot of excitement tightens in my belly, and a jolt of electric pleasure races up my spine every time his talented tongue swirls around the tight, throbbing pebble.
And when he slowly starts to suck, I nearly come undone.
“Oh God,” I moan, rolling forward more adamantly with my hips.
One muscular arm wraps around my hip as Lance’s other hand slides between us to palm my free breast. And the combination of his warm hand on one, his wet lips and teasing tongue on the other launches me unexpectedly toward climax.
You can’t come just from someone playing with your breasts…can you?
I think I might be dangerously close to proving you can. I shiver, my fingers combing into Lance’s hair, mussing it in such a sexy way as I cling to his beautiful chestnut locks.
And when he switches sides, cupping my breast so he can close his lips around the new tight flesh, I give a sultry moan. Then he lightly starts to nibble. And I cry out as my orgasm blasts through me with hurricane force.
“Mmm,” Lance hums appreciatively. The hand cupping my breast travels slowly down my abdomen to the peak of my thighs. His fingers brush across my throbbing clit, then stroke between my slick folds. “You’re so wet and ready for me,” he moans.
Breathless and tingling as the euphoria ripples through me, I nod.
And Lance’s responding growl of approval makes my core clench deliciously.
Then he rolls, trading positions with me as he puts me on my back once more. My legs wrap around his waist, and I cling to him as his lips find mine, kissing me with soft, fiery passion. And his fingers continue to coax my slick slit, swirling around my clit to stimulate the aftershocks of my orgasm.
I pant heavily, my breaths clashing with his as I kiss him back between desperate gasps for oxygen. I’ve never known anyone could make me feel like this. Like everything else in the world has vanished, and all that remains is my pleasure and his presence.
I feel like a puppet on his string, and I would gladly dance to whatever song he wants to play.
My eyes widen as he eases one finger inside of me, gently hooking the digit and stroking against a sensitive spot that makes me want to squirm. My lips part, my head falling back as my pussy tightens around the sudden intrusion. And though my walls are tender from the beating they just took, I desperately want to come.
“That’s it, beautiful. Show me what you want,” he coaxes.
Lance’s voice is so deep and manly and dangerously erotic, it alone might be capable of making me come. And in the recesses of my mind, I note that this might be the most he’s ever spoken to me. It makes the night feel more special, his commands carrying more weight.
“There,” I moan, grinding against the heel of his palm as he eases a second finger inside of me. “Oh God, please don’t stop.”
He does as I plead, his fingers curling softly inside me to find that special place that must be my G-spot. And all the while, our tongues twist in a tantalizing dance, awakening a fire in my belly. It’s driving me wild—this stimulation that seems to give my body a life of its own. I buck and squirm beneath him, loving the way his hips trap me against the bed. And still, his fingers fuck me gently.
Scientifically, there’s no known limit to how many orgasms a woman can have at a time. But as my next one rips through me, I wonder if we might just test that limit tonight. I’ve completely lost track of how many times he’s made me come. And still, my hunger feels insatiable. All I want is Lance to be inside me, filling me up as he makes us one.
“Please, Lance,” I whimper, grinding my hips forward to indicate what I want as my walls milk his fingers.
Easing them out of me, he brings his glistening middle and ring finger to his lips. And sucks the slick arousal from them. I watch with intense lust, licking my lips unwittingly in my desire to participate.
“Tell me what you want, beautiful,” he rasps.
“I want your cock inside me,” I breathe, all sense of shame or modesty thrown out the window.
Lance hums, the sound practically a purr, and a moment later, he shoves his joggers back down his hips. Then he rolls us once more so he’s sitting up and I’m on top of him.
His lips gently tease the curve of my neck as his silken cockhead finds my entrance. And he eases me slowly, carefully onto his massive length.
I groan through the aching sense of fullness. It’s almost enough to be painful. But I’m so wet with arousal, he slides easily inside me. And it feels so dangerously good this time, I’m on the brink of coming with the first deep penetration.
Gasping, I roll my hips, unable to control myself as I let him sink a few inches deeper. Being on top gives me a bit more control and makes both the pleasure and the pain much more manageable.
Still, the orgasm that ripples through me catches me completely by surprise.
And suddenly, I’m throbbing around his silk-skinned iron length, milking him as my body begs him to come deep inside me.
Lance groans, the sound near agony as his arm tightens around my ribcage like a vise, and he pins me in place, holding me firmly on his swollen length as his jaw muscles flex taut beneath his dark facial hair.
“What’s wrong?” I gasp, sensing the sudden tension in his powerful body.
“I forgot a condom.”