21. Lance
21
LANCE
Q uinn’s kisses are irresistible.
They awaken a hunger in me that I’ve never known before. Sure, I’ve slept with women before. And they often seem drawn to me for some inexplicable reason. But Quinn’s the first woman I can’t seem to resist.
And as her soft lips mold to mine, parting at my tongue’s request, I feel the deep, intense urge to bring her pleasure. I hated the way those men spoke about her. The way that they looked at her. It makes me want to wipe the memory of them from her mind and only leave me in their place.
“I have to wash my hands,” Quinn murmurs.
She’s holding them between us, palms up to avoid getting more blood on my chest. And I’m certain she would prefer I wash off as well. So I turn her to face the sink, and as she turns on the faucet, I wrap my arms around her, running my palms beneath the water that cascades from hers.
With my lips pressed close to her ear, I savor the feel of her warm back against my bare chest. The way her hips brush lightly across mine as she scrubs her palms clean—and then mine.
God, I love everything about the way she touches me. I wonder how I ever could have been so blind. Because now that I’m paying attention, it’s not hard to recognize the zinging pleasure that comes with Quinn’s affection.
Her hands are strong, steady, confident, and yet always incredibly soft. Like she shows her healer’s touch in the compassionate way she fixes me up. And though I know it’s early and not everyone will be asleep yet, I can’t seem to help myself.
I slowly start to trail kisses from the tender flesh behind her ear down the curve of her neck.
Quinn gasps, her lips parting, and I love the color that rises beneath her freckles. She looks so soft and sensual, her green eyes warm and beckoning when they meet mine in her reflection. And she tips her head, exposing her neck for me.
“That feels so good,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed as she reaches up to comb her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck.
I hum softly, relishing the slight saltiness on her skin—the dried sweat from her fear in the parking lot.
“I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” I murmur because my chest aches at the slightest reminder of what could have happened if I weren’t there. And again, I’m intensely grateful for Killian insisting I be the one to watch over Quinn.
“I know,” she breathes. Then she guides my still-wet palm beneath the fabric of her shirt.
Her smooth, flat stomach tightens beneath my feather-light touch, and I love the delicate shiver I elicit from her as I slowly work my way up to her lace-clad breasts. And as I palm them, her breathing hitches. Her back arches, her full, perfect ass pressing back against my quickly swelling erection.
The lingering adrenaline in my veins heightens the sensation, increasing my arousal as I get hard in seconds. And the urge to be inside her overwhelms my common sense.
“I want to feel you come all over my cock,” I growl, gripping the hem of her shirt and guiding it up over her head.
“That’s exactly the kind of overexertion that’s going to split your stitches,” she objects. “Lance, how many times do I have to tell you?—”
I silence her with a kiss, whirling her in my arms and wrapping them around her waist as I bend her back over the sink. And despite her objections, Quinn melts into my embrace.
Humming my approval, I unclasp her bra and guide the straps down her shoulders. She lets it drop to the floor, and a moment later, her delicate fingers find my pecs. Warm palms splay across my chest, and she slowly slides them up around my neck. Her soft breasts and taut nipples press against me, and my cock twitches at the scintillating feel of her skin against mine.
It doesn’t matter that the cut on my ribs is smarting. The only salve I need is what this woman can provide me. Hands roaming down to cup her perfect ass, I hoist her onto the counter. Her thighs open for me, wrapping around my hips as I step forward into my favorite place in the world.
Quinn moans as my cock digs against the seam of her jeans, stimulating her clit beneath the fabric. And I reach between us to undo them.
“Lance,” she objects as I curl my fingers around the waist and strip the skintight fabric down her hips.
“Don’t you want this?” I rasp, aching with the need to be inside her. But if tonight was too traumatic and she doesn’t want to, I won’t force myself on her.
“Of course I do,” she murmurs. “But your stitches .”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch.”
And this time, when I kiss her, she doesn’t object again. Instead, she seems ready to throw all caution to the wind as she kisses me with fiery passion. Blindly digging into my pocket, I pull out a foil I have ready at all times these days. And I strip my pants quickly before rolling on my Magnum.
Then I hook Quinn’s knees around my elbows, pulling her hips to the edge of the sink, and I slide my swollen cock between her slick folds.
Quinn moans, the sound desperate as it vibrates from her chest into mine. And I know she feels that same intense, almost frantic need to feel that we’re alive after what happened. Sex after a fight is just about the best sex in the world. And sex with Quinn after watching her be a badass and incapacitate that guy is driving me wild.
I can’t stop thinking about the way she took him down. All cool confidence despite how intensely she was shaking. I love how fierce she is. How determined. I love everything about Quinn. And in a shocking blast of realization, it hits me that I don’t just love things about her. I’m completely in love with Quinn King.
She’s the most intoxicating, strong-willed woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve never loved anyone so completely.
“Oh God, Lance, please don’t stop,” she whimpers, rolling her hips to grind harder against me.
Heart full, and body tingling with my newfound understanding of what this is between us, I wrap my arms more firmly around her and drive deep inside her perfect pussy. She tightens and throbs around me, gasping as she holds on for dear life.
And then she buries her lips against my throat as she cries out. Her walls clamp down around me, her clit fluttering as she finds her release. I groan, slowing at the sinful pleasure of feeling her come on my cock.
“Next time, I want you to see how beautiful you are when you come,” I purr against her ear.
Then I ease out of her.
Hoisting her off the counter, I set Quinn lightly on her feet. And I turn her to face the mirror, bending her over the sink. Her green eyes are dark and lusty as they meet mine in the reflection. Her beautiful blond curls form a wild golden halo around her face, and her cheeks are flushed the most delicious color of red as she watches me.
Sliding my hands down her curves, I grip her full ass cheeks and spread them wide, revealing her dripping pink slit and tantalizing entrance. Then I line up with her once more and press slowly inside her from behind.
Quinn moans, her body rocking forward and her palms slapping against the counter as she braces to take my thrusts. And all the while, she watches me, her eyes devouring me with unbridled lust.
Her tits bounce with each deep penetration, and that only drives me forward harder. Because their natural full, softness is so damn sexy, it makes my balls throb.
Gasping, Quinn takes each deep, penetrating thrust like she was born to ride my cock. And her lips part softly in the sexiest O as her breaths grow ragged.
“Watch yourself as you come for me, beautiful,” I command, reaching around her hip to press my fingers to her clit.
And as I swirl them in quick, flicking circles, Quinn’s eyes snap to her own reflection. And she cries out. Her walls flutter around my cock as she finds her release, her back arches, her nipples puckering. And she’s the sexiest damn thing I think I’ve ever seen.
I love that she can see it too. Because the sight of Quinn climaxing is the single most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed. And my cock aches with the need to explode deep inside her.
Still, I’m greedy, and watching her come twice isn’t enough.
So as her aftershocks subside, I ease out of her once more. And I scoop her up in my arms to carry her to bed.
“Lance!” she objects, her fury dampened by the breathy sound of her arousal.
“Yes?” I ask.
“You should not be carrying me right now,” she groans, rolling her eyes at me.
“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” I tease.
“Has anyone told you that you don’t worry nearly enough?”
I chuckle and deposit her unceremoniously on top of the sheets. Quinn squeals as she bounces. Then, before she can continue to lecture me, I fall between her thighs once more.
Our lips meet, her soft peach ones locking with mine in a fiery kiss. And her tongue darts out to tangle with mine. She might enjoy bossing me around, but I think I’ve found another way to occupy her sharp tongue that we can both agree upon.
I taste her deeply, relishing the way her breasts press against my chest as her breathing grows more ragged. And each time I slide into her glorious depths, she releases a soft, mewling whimper.
Her thighs quake around my hips, her back arching so she can grind her clit against me. Taking her palms in my hands, I interlace our fingers and bring them up over her head, trapping her beneath me as I take control of her desire.
And nothing else in this world matters. All I want is to make Quinn cry my name.
Because that’s the most beautiful song in the world.