CHAPTER 39
Luna
“How much longer is he going to do this to me?” I ask Marlon. I sigh at the sky, tired of only ever talking to my dog. Always outdoors. Always while moving, scouting, listening, plotting.
Always sexually frustrated.
It’s been a week. Quinn touches me, kills me every night with either his fingers or his tongue or both. Last night I came just from whatever magic he was doing with my nipples. Didn’t even take my panties off. The man is an artist with my body. A magician. Sorcerer, maybe.
But he never goes all the way. Never lets me reciprocate. I haven’t even touched his dick which I’m positive is massive.
And.
The fucker won’t kiss me.
“What the hell is he playing at? Tink?” I ask the giant dufus who is still trying to walk me in circles. She doesn’t even look back at me. She’s tired of this too. I ask the same questions every day.
Because why the hell won’t he kiss me? Like the man who has killed hundreds of men—as recorded on a back tattoo that I should have found terrifying but instead found brutally hot, a note I’m saving for the day I find a mafia-trained-therpaist— is what, sentimental?
A softie? I mean…he is. The cuddling every night.
Cuddling?! The big-spoon-little-spoon sleeping arrangement confirms it.
But he also really, really, isn’t.
There’s nothing soft about him.
Mind games.
Has to be.
He’s messing with me.
So that I’m out here thinking about his full, soft, warm lips and not the fact that the guy who stabbed me is named Tad and is part of something called the Remnant. A fact I learned from a day spent in a coat closet in the mudroom. Half my body went numb.
Worth it.
He’s smart, my giant, beautiful, terrifying husband.
He’s toying with me in hopes that by drawing me in, getting me emotional, acting like he is actually in love or something—ridiculous!
—he’s ensuring I won’t do it. That when the day comes that the Russians attack or I’m finally able to get messages out to Vix or whatever situation arises where I can turn on his ass, I won’t.
I will.
“Kiss me or don’t kiss me, asshole. I don’t care.
” I say to Quinn but really to my boots.
I stomp over the same log on the same trail that leads to the same nothingburger back fence as always.
“Mark my words, Marlon, if he doesn’t actually have sex with me soon, ” I switch to my Godfather voice that I know my dog must love as much as I do, “I’m gonna hafta stab him. ”
·····
“You’re not breathing,” Quinn says into my ear.
“I am, clearly, since I’m still, you know, alive,” I snipe back.
He pulls in closer behind me and adjusts my stance.
I love when he does this. I love his guns, I love his range and I really love shooting with him.
Not because he always cages me in and presses his body into mine.
Not because he groans in my ear when I rub my ass against his crotch.
Both are fun. But the man is an amazing shot and every time we train, I get miles better.
Quinn puts his hand over mine and moves our joined right arms to the right, “A man is running at you from the right,” BANG!
he quickly shifts our arms, “Then left,” BANG!
“Then straight at you,” BANG BANG BANG! “You can’t hold your breath through all that.
You have to keep breathing. Again Mancini. ”
Nope.
Too much adrenaline.
I arch my back.
“Luna. There are men in here.”
“Then kick them out.”
He sighs but I can feel he’s already hard behind me. “Out. Everyone!” He shouts. His voice booms in the large, empty, concrete space. I try to push my ass out but Quinn’s hand stops me as the last couple guys file out.
Once it’s quiet, I turn. I’m trapped between the partition and Quinn’s hulking frame. Possibly my new favorite place. I look down.
“Just let me touch you,” I whisper. I reach out a hand and grip my husband through his pants. He lets out a string of words I don’t understand. It sounded like more than one language but I can’t stop and parse out what I heard.
Because he. Is. Huge.
“Luna,” he rasps my name as I squeeze.
“Come on, tell me you don’t want to see me on my knees,” I smirk as I sink down. He gulps. “You don’t want to wrap your hand around my ponytail? Move my mouth around however you want?”
“Fuck!” I start unbuttoning his pants as fast as I can. Before he realizes this is happening and tries to stop me. I tug down his pants and then grab the elastic of his boxers. “Luna, don’t. I…” he starts but he doesn’t stop me, doesn’t move his hands.
I move his boxers down and
Oh
My
Fucking
Fuck
What am I supposed to do with that monster!
“I…I’ve never...”
“I know. Hell, fuck…I,” his face contorts like he’s in pain. “Take off your shirt.”
I look up and frown, “What?”
“Take off your shirt. Now!”
I do as he says and in the next second he puts his hand over mine and guides me to him. He grips hard and shows me how to squeeze and tug. But then he thrusts and closes his eyes and…
“Luna. Baby…”
He comes.
Already.
All over my tits.
Forever.
He jerks and grunts and releases more and more for ever.
Finally, he stills.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” he looks at me and runs his bottom lip through his teeth, clearly loving what he’s seeing. “I haven’t…”
“Wait, what?”
“You asked about my wrist. It’s fucking exhausted. But before you moved in I hadn’t been with a woman in…a long ass time.”
I can’t help it.
I try to suppress my smirk but I can’t.
Instead, I beam like a fucking flashlight because I made him do that.
“Go ahead,” he says, barely grinning as he bends to pull up his pants.
“I didn’t say anything,” I say.
He chuckles, “You didn’t have to. Your smile is fucking blinding.”
“Sorry,” I shrug.
“No you’re not. You’re proud. What you shouldn’t be is surprised. Look at you. I’m already ready to blow again. Stay put.” He says before walking to a closet where I hope he’ll find some towels. He does. I expect him to hand them to me but instead he grips my hips and puts me up on the rail.
“What are—” I’m stopped mid-thought because he…
His finger is on me, dragging through the mess he made. My mouth must fall open because he easily slips his fingers inside.
“Suck.”
I do.
I almost come from the taste of him and the sight of his eyes watching my mouth. He huffs a groan before grabbing the towel to clean me up.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says as his eyes study the cloth and my skin. I don’t reply. “It won’t work.”
I shrug, “Can’t blame a girl for trying. Plus, we’ll have a little fun along the way, even if you never show me all your secrets and I never give up trying to find them.” I widen my legs and arch my back. The rail is the perfect height so his bulge is right there. Exactly where I want it.
He pushes into me, a delicious friction where his cargo pants meet my joggers.
“Tell me you give up,” he says. I whimper as he moves, rubbing my clit with his shaft through our clothes. “Just say it, Luna. Tell me I can trust you.”
“Quinn,” I beg.
He pulls away. I’m about to beg for more but in one quick move he’s shifted me forward and put his hand down into my pants.
He studies my face as his fingers thrust into me, hard.
He’s never gentle with me, even the night after I was shot.
It’s like he can’t be. There’s no containing this… or containing him. I love it.
I moan and his mouth parts and I want it. I want his mouth on mine. I want his lips.
And he knows it.
So he moves out of reach.
He kisses my neck instead and I want to protest but it’s all just so good. I look up at the ceiling, watching the lights blur. Watching everything blur. It doesn’t take long before I scream his name.
When I finally settle, he withdraws his hand and makes a show of putting his glistening fingers in his mouth.
I shouldn’t have teased him earlier.
He lasted longer than I did.
He’s stronger than me. Or more stubborn. Or less…something.
I know we’re both playing our own game here, but I’m not sure if either of us are winning. As each day goes on it gets harder. We train, we laugh, we cuddle and sleep and still it’s not enough. I want more.
Not more power or secrets or leverage.
I want more Quinn.
Which makes me the real loser here.
Even if I give in, even if I give up, I don’t think he’ll ever give me all of him.
And honestly, he shouldn’t.