26. Quinn
26
quinn
I can’t sleep.
I’ve been home from the diner for hours now. It’s currently three in the morning, I already have a hangover, the house is eerily quiet, and all I can do is stare at the ceiling and think those what-ifs that have been plaguing my mind.
Specifically: What if I told Porter I didn’t want to go.
Or, the scarier thing, what if I told him I love him.
Because Maeve was right. I love him.
And I don’t want to go.
I want to stay here. In Rolling Hills. With him.
And while I know it’s what I want, doesn’t make it any less scary.
What if he doesn’t want this? What if he said he’d miss me because he’s a nice guy? Or that he’d miss me helping him with Grace? What if I’m misreading the looks and the glances? Or the little touches. What if the heat I still feel between us is just leftover from our eight years of situationship?
Fuck, I’m going to drive myself crazy. And I hate that the only way I’m going to know is that if I actually talk to him about it.
But that requires truths and realness and not making a joke out of something.
All things I don’t do well.
I sit up in my bed, wondering what he’d do if I just knocked on his door. No. I can’t do that. It’s the middle of the night. You can’t have life-altering conversations at three in the morning.
No, I’ll do it in the morning. Yes. That’s a good idea.
Which means that I’m going to now lay here all night and thinking of the worst-case scenarios, because that’s what I do.
No. I need a distraction. I need something to take my mind off of the fact that I’m actually going to lay my heart on the line with no idea how Porter is going to react. He could kiss me. He could sweep me off my feet, tell me he loves me too, and we could live happily ever after.
Or, he could let me down gently and tell me that he just wants to be friends. And oh yeah, by the way, you need to move out, because he has a handle on things and I just made our friendship awkward as hell.
God, I’m an idiot. Years of “protecting myself” now has me lying in a bed, my body and heart aching, hoping against hope that I haven’t screwed this all up.
Because I want him. All of him.
And that if he wants me too, I’ll stay here.
I’ll stay the night.
I’ll stay forever.
I’ll stay for the family we’ve become and the family who has supported me through thick and thin. I’ll stay and become the librarian at the school where I once stole the keys to the teachers’ lounge and distributed copies around the school.
But most importantly, I’ll stay for love.
Because I love Porter McCoy.
I think I’ve loved him for a while now.
The only question is, does he love me?
“Oh God, Porter…” I fall back onto my bed and close my eyes, begging the melatonin I took to finally kick in. I don’t know why my treacherous brain is doing this, but instead of peacefully falling asleep, it’s taking me back to the last time we were together.
That night in the office was like a greatest hits album of all our times together. It was heat and passion. But it was also filled with emotion.
I let my hands roam my body, stopping on all the places Porter loves to touch. I twist my nipples just like he does, thinking back to all the times he has told me to lay back so he can get lost in my breasts. My hand travels down to my center, under the sleep shorts and my panties, needing to relieve the building pressure. I start rubbing my clit, and I can tell that I’m already wet just thinking about that night, and really, every other night over the years we’ve been together.
Needing more than just my fingers, I roll over to the nightstand and take out my vibrator. I haven’t used it since I moved in. I’ve never shied away from owning and using this, but it felt awkward with Porter on the other side of the wall and a baby sleeping nearby. I know it’s basically silent—the technology these employ these days is quite impressive—but in my mind, the vibration will be able to be heard over the whole house.
But tonight I frankly don’t give a shit, because if I don’t get some relief soon, I might actually die. And it would be really shitty to die just when I finally just got my head out of my ass.
I have no idea how loud my groan is when I slide off my shorts and place the toy that I bought solely for the tag line “this is the only situationship you need” and slowly insert it into me.
Oh, shit…I feel it in every cell of my body. This is exactly what I need. And forget how loud the vibrator is. I have to make sure I keep it down, because fuck…I need this so damn bad.
I let out another, and likely louder, moan as I turn up the speed, letting the toy do the thrusting while also perfectly stimulating my clit. I arch my back, wanting more from the vibrator as I turn it up to another speed. And while it’s doing the trick, it’s still not what I actually want.
Because it isn’t Porter.
My mind starts wandering again, only this time it isn’t going back to a time we had before. No, this is a complete fantasy. We’re standing in front of a mirror, both of us completely naked. Even in this dream scenario I want to retreat into myself, being on display like that for him in the open. I know he’s seen me naked, but it’s usually under sheets and dark in the room. But here there’s light and nothing hiding us.
But then I picture how he’s looked at me before, and how he’s looking at me in this dream. The heat in his eyes. The way his hands can’t stop touching me. How he always makes sure to worship every part of me.
He wants me. All of me. Exactly the way I am.
I hear noises coming from my mouth, but I don’t know or care what they are or what I’m saying. How can I when I’m now perfectly picturing Porter’s hands all over my body, his dick between my tits, and his eyes looking down on me like I’m the most perfect being he’s ever seen? I pinch my nipple as the vibrator continues to work me, imagining that it’s Porter’s hands making me ready to come.
I insert the vibrator a little farther as my fantasy continues. I don’t have to think too hard about how my body would react to his hand coming up from my tit to around my neck, putting just enough pressure on it to make me gasp.
“Porter,” I moan as I turn up the vibrator to the max speed. “I want you. I want to stay. Please let me stay.”
I don’t know who I’m talking to or why, but the words are just falling out of me. It’s like I’m in this weird dream state where I’m awake but I’m so far into my fantasy, I don’t know what’s real or fake.
That is until I feel the beginning of my orgasm start to build in me, which is a thousand percent real. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting my hips work with the vibrator as I mumble words that probably aren’t English.
All except one word.
“Porter!”
I keep my eyes closed as I let the orgasm run through me. The pounding in my head from the intensity is loud, but it’s nothing compared to the beating of my heart.
I love Porter McCoy. And it’s about damn time I realized it.
I turn down the speed until it’s eventually off, slowly taking it out of me. After a second of catching my breath, I’m finally able to open my eyes. Only when I do, Porter is looming over me.
“Porter! What are?—”
“Shhh…” The fire in his eyes is undeniable as he leans down and kisses me quiet. And not just any kiss—a hard kiss that I feel all over my body.
I try to speak when he breaks the kiss, but between the orgasm I just had, and the one Porter’s about to give me from just a look, I can’t.
“Did you have fun without me?”
I nod, unable to say anything else.
“I figured you did,” he says as his hand starts tracing up and down my bare leg. “I heard. A lot.”
I was in a daze before, but not now.
He heard a lot? How much? What did I actually say? And what is it with this man and eavesdropping?
Oh shit. Did I say that I loved him out loud? No…maybe? Fuck my life.
“Did you forget already?” Porter sits down on the bed next to me, cupping my still throbbing pussy. “You screamed my name.”
That I remember. “I know.”
“Did you wish it was me?”
I nod again, only this time it comes with a whispered “Yes.”
“Do you remember what else you said?”
Porter starts leaning close, his fingers now toying at my entrance. I try to thrust my hips toward him, needing the relief again even though I just came, but every time I do, he moves them just slightly to keep me away.
“I don’t.”
“That’s too bad. I don’t think I can give you what you want until you do.”
Oh this motherfucker…how am I supposed to remember what I said five minutes ago? I feel like that’s really unfair.
“I said…” I trail off, begging my mind to remember the nonsense it came up with. Knowing that the reward will be will worth it. “I said…”
“That’s it. Use your words, beautiful.”
My eyes find his, and then it hits me.
He heard what I didn’t want to say out loud.
The words that still scare me to speak into existence.
The words that will change everything.
“I want to stay.” My words are barely above a whisper, but the slight smile on Porter’s face tells me he heard it loud and clear.
“Say it again.”
“I want to stay.”
His fingers start to insert a little more, but not nearly enough for my pleasure. I try to find my voice when I feel his other hand take my wrists and pin them over my head.
“Say it, Quinn. Say it all. Say what you want.”
Porter has pushed me in the bedroom plenty of times. It’s one thing when it’s orgasms. It’s another when it’s your heart.
But I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of shielding. I’m tired of being on the defensive.
I’m ready to jump.
More importantly, I’m ready to land.
“I want to stay. Here. With you.”