23. Smoke
23
SMOKE
F uck me, I’m screwed.
I’m not certain what tells me that.
Maybe it’s the way her cunt tightens around my finger with such strong contractions, it’s gonna cut off my circulation.
Maybe it’s the way she utterly lost control, almost going feral in the way she fucked my hand and added her own without any inhibitions.
Maybe it’s the way her lips are the sweetest I’ve ever kissed, with an unbridled sensuality I’m not sure she’s even aware of.
Or maybe it’s the way she looked at me at the end, like I was her everything and she was mine.
Like we’d known each other for an eternity or had never met at all.
All I know is, I’m closer than I’ve ever been to an orgasm of my own without being stimulated, and I want her here in my bed fore?—
Fuck.
That’s a messy train of thought.
Especially when I’ve just dragged myself back off that goddamn mountainside and woken to the scent of lemons.
Crushing my lips to hers, I cut myself off from thinking about forever.
Nothing in life is certain.
Forever is a weird construct to define whatever time we actually have left on this earth.
And while I can’t imagine spending a moment without Quinn right now, the cold light of tomorrow’s going to bring a whole other wave of feelings and thoughts.
But for tonight…
I hold the back of her head tightly, pressing her mouth to mine so she struggles to suck in the air she needs.
I love the discomfort of it.
“Smoke,” she manages.
It comes out more of a whimper.
Gently, I remove my fingers from inside her.
My hand is drenched, and I drag it over her nipple before licking it like a popsicle.
All flat tongue.
Quinn sighs.
It’s late.
She’s tired.
But I can’t bring myself to wait.
I shift to kneeling on the bed and roll the condom on.
They’re a necessary evil, but I’m taking Quinn to get us both tested tomorrow.
My family line ends when I do.
So, I’ve already taken permanent measures to make that happen.
Club life would always involve some club girl trying to trick you into marrying her by getting knocked up.
Even condoms and birth control aren’t always a hundred percent effective.
Technically, neither are vasectomies, but they’re definitely more reliable.
Something makes me bend down and kiss Quinn’s forehead gently.
It’s not like me to be tender at a moment like this.
Hell, it’s not like me to be tender, period.
But then, I’ve never had someone I wanted to reassure.
Never held someone after a nightmare who wanted nothing more than to comfort me.
Never had anyone care about my consent.
“Want you on your knees, sugar. Might be easier with…” I gesture to the scars on my ribs.
She immediately does as I ask, and I love the fast but graceful way she moves her body.
Whether it’s while she’s baking or dancing in the kitchen or letting me fuck her.
I move behind her and run my hands down either side of her spine.
She stretches like a cat, lengthening the lines of it.
I can see the ink she has on her arm bleeds over onto her shoulder, and one day I’ll ask her what it all means.
But it’s delicate fine-line work with splashes of watercolor that looks stunning on her.
I line up my cock, and she wiggles her ass a little to make sure I’m in the right spot.
The gesture makes me smile, and I realize my nightmare is long forgotten.
Just as I’m about to thrust, I stop, taking a deep breath.
Not sure why this feels momentous.
More important than the million other times I’ve sunk my cock into someone’s pussy.
This is the very first time it will be Quinn.
And in one possible future version of the two of us, it could be the very last time it will be anyone new.
I swallow deeply, burying the thought to pull out and break apart later.
Instead, I press forward into the sweetest fucking pussy.
I’m thick; she’s tight.
The stranglehold is delicious.
I bury myself right into her.
Balls squashed up against her.
And it’s still not enough.
I want all of her.
“Fuck, sugar.”
Fucking can take all kinds of forms. Solo, a simple release when you need one.
A fast fuck, a quickie grabbed because, while you don’t have a lot of time, it’s the only way you can think of spending it, buried in someone who wants you for whatever time you want them.
At the other end is a planned scene, one with agreed terms and boundaries.
One that takes days to negotiate, building the anticipation.
I’ve fucked strangers.
I’ve fucked friends.
I’ve even fucked two Outlaws brothers.
I’ve fucked more than one person at once.
I’ve joined trains fucking a lineup of women.
And I feel absolutely zero shame in any of it.
I’ve enjoyed most of it.
But it all fades into absolutely nothing when Quinn looks over her shoulder at me.
The age difference disappears.
Her sister disappears.
The club and its inherent dangers disappear.
And a fire with lost brothers disappears.
Because all I can see is this woman.
And who we could be together if I could just figure out my shit and decide finally that it’s okay to want this.
If I could let go of the fact my mother’s mental health was complicated for all of us and admit it’s possible to love someone else in sickness and in health without dragging them down with you.
Because time and time again, Quinn meets me where I am.
And I’m still unsure.
I lower over her, and even though raw heat stabs through my scars as I flex, I drop a kiss to her spine.
“You’re perfect, sugar,” I reassure.
“Really?”
Those eyes of hers are gonna kill me.
I want to take the uncertainty out of them and make it my job to ensure she doesn’t feel that way forever.
“Yeah. Gonna last two minutes because you feel so good.”
I begin to thrust into her.
My full length, so I can feel her along every inch of me.
“Put your forehead on the mattress,” I say.
Something relaxes in my chest when she does as I say.
Her asshole is presented to me better this way, and I wonder if she’ll let me use a butt plug on her at some point.
It’d look really pretty with a little jewel or a monogrammed base with my initials on it.
Maybe I’ll buy it for her as a gift.
I let my thumb sit where we’re joined until it’s wet enough for what I need.
When I place my thumb over the puckered hole, it quivers, but she doesn’t pull away.
I smear some of her juices over it, around it, before edging the tip of my thumb through the tight ring.
My cock jerks inside her as I press.
I can feel myself slide into her.
I push in, up to my first knuckle.
“Smoke.” Her voice is hoarse.
“It’s okay, sweet thing. I’m not going any farther today.”
She’s gonna need training for anything bigger, because she’s already squeezing the shit out of my thumb.
I tip my head back, and my whole body strains.
The pain is shifting from bearable to something headier and darker.
It’s tipping me into the headspace I needed when Quinn first woke me.
A mash up of sex and pain that helps me escape.
That takes me away from the realities of what happened.
That gives me the release I need, while reminding me there will always be a price for my happiness from here on out.
Quinn moves, a slow back and forth, and I stop moving my hips to let her fuck me.
“You want another orgasm, sweet thing?”
“Won’t happen,” she says on a gasp.
“But it feels good.”
I watch my cock disappear inside her as she moves.
Bizarrely, I already feel calm.
Maybe it’s just being around Quinn.
Maybe it’s giving her what she needed before seeking my own.
I reach for her hip and begin to move her more aggressively.
Tugging hard on her hips so we smash into one another.
My cock gets used to the rhythm, expecting the slam, chasing the sensation.
My breath starts to come a little quicker, and I fuck her asshole with my thumb at the same pace.
Quinn shakes, and I grin to myself.
Think I’m going to get her that second orgasm she doesn’t believe she’s capable of after all.
I reach beneath her and find her clit.
It’s rock hard and I circle it.
My burns pull, and I don’t care because the pain of it bleeds into everything else we’re doing.
“I want another, sweet thing,” I say against her ear.
“I want you squeezing my cock when you give me that second O you’re chasing.”
“I can’t,” she says, almost on a whimper.
“Want to bet?”
She shakes her head.
“Please, Smoke,” she cries.
So far, she’s shown me how open she is to new things.
“Maybe you like a little pain with it too. You don’t like it, say red and I’ll stop.”
I squeeze her clit between my thumb and forefinger and then pull on it, hard.
Quinn screams, but doesn’t say the word red .
Instead, she comes, maybe harder than the first time.
And this time, I come with her.
It catches me off guard, hurtling in so quickly, I barely have time to prepare for the rush I feel.
The world feels unstable, and I balance myself by putting a hand on Quinn’s ass as she cries out again.
“Quinn,” I bark. “Fuck.”
I continue to thrust, milking every moment, savoring every shudder and uncontrolled gasp.
She’s the thing that’s been missing from my life.
Something I’ve never had with anyone else.
I want this expression of who we are together.
That anything is possible between us, and that we both want it.
But more than all that, it’s after I’ve removed the condom and cleaned up and she’s tucked up close against me that I realize I want Quinn to be my woman.
And that my demons mean I might not be the man for her.