Quinn 18.
I read. I read quite a bit, one might say I’m a voracious reader. I devour books, particularly romance novels. You know, since you’re reading this book, that authors love to use phrases like “he ate her like a starving man” and “my blood boiled”.
So, when I tell you that my blood is boiling in my veins as Polk eats my pussy like a starving man, know that the cliches exist for a reason.
“Good God!” I scream out, giggling with the freedom of knowing my kids aren’t home to hear us. He chuckles around my clit, the vibrations causing my body to jerk and twitch, my hands scrambling for purchase but his hair is too short. I grip the sheets beneath me, my back arching as I approach an epic climax.
And it’ll be my second. Whatever and whoever came before him was practice, an imitation (no offense, Joe!), and an inadequate substitute. Bently Walker has masterful control over his tongue, teeth, and lips. His fingers should be registered as deadly weapons. And that snarl he does when something particularly pleasing to him occurs…
As my climax crests, I cry out, tears falling from my eyes as the pleasure overwhelms me. I want more. I guess I can be selfish, because I want everything with Bently. I want the good, the bad, the sick, the healthy, the climactic, and the cock. I want his cock inside me. I’ve had sex, but never with him, he’s never made love to me, and right now that seems like the greatest tragedy.
Using my feet and legs, I hook them under his arms and pull him up my body. He moves willingly, laughing as he slides into position between my spread thighs. He rubs his nose along mine, and the smell of my arousal only spurs me on. “What’s the matter, darlin’? Do you need something?”
“Your cock. Your massive, beautifully shaped, girthy cock. I need it. I want it. I must have it. Now.” He tosses his head back and lets loose a joyful laugh that tickles along my skin. I cinch my legs around him tighter, and thrust up, reveling in the way his laughter morphs into a guttural groan as his cock saws through my wet and swollen lips.
“ Baby ,” he whispers brokenly, his body undulating, dragging the underside of his dick along my clit.
I slide my palms along his chiseled jaw, the stubble abrading my skin as deliciously as it did between my legs. “You’ve always been mine, Bent. I just didn’t see it. I’m sorry we had to wait so long. But we’re here now and this is where I belong. I’m yours. Make love to me, please?”
Seeing Ford today, knowing he’s going to be ok, accepting that his words and actions were not solely his own…I’m free. Like I was trapped behind some invisible barrier, living in a self-imposed limbo, unwilling to take a chance. I walked out of that hospital room a changed woman. An unburdened woman.
I am Bently Walker’s woman. I’m done hiding, done trying to prove I can do everything myself, done trying to live up to someone else’s impossible expectations knowing damn well I will always fall short.
I deserve love, unconditional and fathomless. I said it months ago, but it wasn’t true at the time, but it is now; I am Quinn fucking Palomeni. And I want the dick.
Bent’s breath hitches, his pelvis moving, but his upper body drops til he’s flush against me. Our hearts beating erratically in sync. “You mean that?”
“Everything I am is yours. Do you want it?” I’m teasing, but there’s a kernel of insecurity in those words. He’s laying himself bare to me and I can only respond in kind.
“Forever.” On his fists, he hovers above me, and our eyes meet as he thrusts hard into me. My body convulses, his eyes roll back, and we both moan.
This. Is. Perfection.
An urge to cry hits me out of nowhere, but I’m overcome with emotion. Being connected like this to him, the final piece to a puzzle I didn’t know I was building. Slow but steady, hard and deep, he strokes inside me, changing me on a cellular level. I rake my nails down his muscular back, stretch to clutch the meaty cheeks of his ass to pull him deeper, cinch my legs around him. I can’t bear the scant distance between our bodies, needing his weight, needing him to surround me completely. I cum, a crashing wave of ecstasy that drowns me, amplified by the heat of his own release inside me. It’s messy, but so good. An unbreakable bond cemented by ejaculate.
I snort at my ridiculous thought. Within seconds I’m hugging him and sobbing and laughing hysterically. A catharsis that is no doubt terrifying the man currently softening in my twinkle cave.
This man has been patient and kind and giving and through it all he was sexy as hell. I can be all of those things, but I’m gonna look like a hot mess while I do it. Not Bently. Hell, he even took Salvatore to his Destination Imagination practice the other day while I had a doctor’s appointment. He didn’t press for details, just gave Salvatore a ride on the back of his bike and wrangled a bunch of middle schoolers into actually getting shit done. I might need to bring him to the rest of their practices if I have any hope of moving them along. Although, according to Sal, it’s because the others in his group have a crush on Polk. I can relate. I’ve got one too.
The man is a freaking unicorn. And his horn is magical.
“Quinn…you feel it? You all caught up now?” I nod, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. It took me a while to realize and accept what’s been happening, but I got here eventually. Still inside me, he shifts to his hip, our bodies touching along my entire side. His right hand slowly caresses my cheek. “I love you, Quinn.”
“Oh, Bently.” I sniffle, a few more tears escaping. “I love you so much.”
His lips stretch into a smile, despite the determined expression that overtakes his handsome face. “Then don’t fucking shut me out. I’m all in, darlin’. Those amazing boys. Your charming yet troubled ex-husband. School competitions. Weird blended family dinners. Doctor’s appointments.” He pulls out of me, then draws me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “Happy, sad, angry, sick, I want everything you’ve got. You fight. I fight. You will never be alone again. I know that’s what you’re used to. And believe me, your strength is a big fucking turn on for me, darlin’ but I want you to be strong with me by your side. You put everyone else first, let me put you first. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”
A laugh bursts free, “It’s like we share a brain.” He’s voiced nearly every thought I’ve had since I left Ford’s hospital room and some before that. I decide to match him honesty for honesty. “I’m so scared, Bent.”
“About what? Me? Us?”
“No. Actually, you don’t scare me, us being an us doesn’t scare me, it grounds me.” I inhale, drawing his comforting scent deep into my lungs, letting it and his body heat fortify me to say the words out loud for the first time… “I have Multiple Sclerosis.”
“That’s what the doctor talked to you about in the hospital? Your appointments? Why you’ve resembled a pin cushion?”
“And why you herded a bunch of middle schoolers like they were wayward cats.”
“Cats are more well-behaved.”
“At least the kids don’t lick their own assholes.”
“Fuck, Quinn.” His body shakes as he laughs. I rest my head over his heart and settle in. “I won’t lie; I’m scared too. MS isn’t a joke, it’s tough, but manageable.” Bent kisses the top of my head again, then urges me back to stare into my eyes. I smile at the love that shines back. He’s so open, it’s refreshing not having to use a decoder ring to find out what’s going on in his head. “You fight, I fight, we all fight autoimmune diseases!”
I press my lips to his pec, arch my neck and put my game face on. “They may take my myelin sheath, but they will never take my freedom!”