Chapter 3 – QUINN
QUINN
His non-question throws me. Not because I didn’t expect him to try to take me home with him, but because he said upstairs. I realize with that, I know nothing about this guy other than his name, he likes sports, and has a shitty ex and a son.
“Upstairs?” I draw back.
His hand slides from the back of my neck to my cheek, and he smiles, a light chuckle on his lips.
“I suppose we skipped some steps. I’m in town for an interview.
I’m staying in the hotel attached to this restaurant.
” He pauses and takes my hand up to his lips so he can kiss the sensitive skin inside my wrist. “Is that a problem for you?”
“No,” I tell him honestly. It’s actually a bit of a relief.
Despite my shitty date with the lawyer, I knew nothing would have happened with him.
I’m not dating right now. It’s simply impossible, and I’m tired of trying.
My residency is demanding and fulfilling, and my friends and family keep any loneliness at bay.
It’s the sex I miss. It’s being touched and kissed, and yes, even fucked.
I dip in, but instead of kissing him, I glide my lips along his cheek until I reach his ear. “Take me upstairs and fuck me till I’m sore.” With any luck, I’ll feel it for the rest of the week.
“Jesus,” he hisses, his breathing coming out in a short burst that tickles my cheek.
That’s all I get before he’s on his feet and tugging me to mine.
He twists his hand and links our fingers before he takes off, moving with swift, long strides that have me kicking up into a light jog to keep up with him.
We reach the elevator, and he spins me inside and presses me against the wall. Someone else tries to step on, and he shakes his head. “No. Take another one.” He waves them out, literally waves them back until they step off the elevator, then he hits the button for the doors to close.
I giggle. “Impatient?”
I catch his smile before his lips find my neck, and he kisses and sucks me there.
“If I’m going to fuck you sore, I don’t have a minute to waste.”
He lifts me until my legs are wrapped around his waist, making the skirt of my dress ride up my thighs.
His hard cock presses right against my center while his mouth is hot against my neck and collarbone.
My head falls back against the wall as my fingers comb through his hair.
One of his hands is on my hip while his other is sliding up my stomach over my dress until he cups my breast.
“Do you think there are cameras in here?” he asks against me.
“I don’t care,” I tell him in all honesty. If he stops, I might die. This feels too good.
His breathing changes, and he continues to move his mouth lower until it meets his hand. He nibbles and suckles over my dress, even as he lowers the fabric, exposing more and more of me. I rub my pussy against him, winded and mindless until the car slows and chimes our arrival.
The doors open, and with a noise of regret, he sets me on my feet again. We step off, and he looks both ways. When we realize we’re alone in the hall, I get a sideways smirk.
“Come back here, baby girl.” In a heartbeat, I’m wrapped up again in his arms. His hands grip my ass, and he walks us with wide strides down the hall. His smile is contagious before his lips capture mine. He kisses me only to groan, “Your ass.”
That’s it. That’s all he can get out. But his firm hands are squeezing and kneading me while he uses his grip to hold me against him.
I end up back against the wall right here in the hallway as he kisses me, deeper, hungrier, needier. His cock is big and hard, and I’m so fucking wet it wouldn’t take much for him to simply pull himself out, push my panties to the side, and fuck right into me.
Hell. If this is a taste of what’s to come…
“Your room,” I demand.
“It’s all the way down at the end of the hall.”
I laugh at his mournful tone before it instantly turns to a moan when one of his hands slips up and presses against my opening.
“Oh god.”
He pulls at my dress that’s covering his hand, and I shake my head. “Your room.”
He hisses out a curse but then sets me down. No one is around. No one is out here, so we simply run as we are, rumpled with my dress all over the place, one breast half out, and the skirt barely covering my ass.
He wasn’t lying when he said his room was all the way down the hall.
It’s the last one on the corner, and I’m shoved against the door.
His mouth consumes mine while he fumbles for the key in his pocket.
It slides against the plate, and with a delightful snick of the lock, I’m roughly pulled inside the dark room.
The curtains are drawn, and all I can make out is that it’s a nice room with high-end furnishings like a desk and sofa, and a large king-size bed.
His suitcase is open and in the middle of the bed as if he didn’t have time to put it anywhere better.
He shoves it, and it goes crashing to the floor, upending his clothes and causing them to splatter across the carpet in front of the sofa.
Then he has me on the bed, flat on my back.
He doesn’t bother with lights. He doesn’t ask if I want something to drink.
His mouth and hands are all over me as he kisses me like my kisses are the best he’s ever had.
Like a man who can’t get enough. This goes on and on until our desire is more than either of us can take.
I fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he reaches around me to find my zipper.
It’s not working for either of us. It’s too slow.
Too clumsy. With a frustrated growl, he pries himself off me and stands.
Deftly, he undoes the buttons on his shirt.
I prop myself up on my elbows and angle my hands behind me to undo my dress.
His blue eyes are dark and hooded as I sit up and let the top of my dress fall off me.
Then I stand, and he takes a step back as I work the rest over my hips before it falls to the floor. I’m in only my bra, panties, and heels, and his gaze is capturing every inch of me. He sucks in a wounded breath, grasps my hips, and brings me back down onto the bed.
His lips recapture mine as he gets the last button undone.
I push him back until he’s half up, half down, one knee between my thighs and one foot on the floor.
I tear the shirt from his shoulders, anxious to touch him.
Anxious to see him. He’s as muscular as I knew he’d be, arms firm with big biceps and well-defined triceps—my total favorite.
He has swirls of black ink on his shoulder down to his elbow and on his opposite arm, ink from his elbow to his wrist. It’s almost as if the pattern picks up where the other left off.
My nails scrape along his abs, which tighten and tense.
I kiss above his navel, and he releases a tremulous breath.
Leaning in, his mouth works down my neck to my shoulder while he undoes his belt and the button and zipper on his pants.
It’s all these tasks. These ordinary, necessary life tasks, but they’re eating up seconds we could be doing other things.
I want his mouth on me without anything obstructing it, so I reach around to unhook my bra before he takes over and slides the straps over my shoulders.
It occurs to me that neither of us has said anything since the hall, and it’s not awkward or tense with that.
It’s from impatience and lust being our driving force. It’s from kissing and touching and wanting the other naked.
I don’t need him to work me up with dirty talk, and if he calls me his good girl and pets me accordingly, he’ll likely get kneed in the balls.
Baby girl, I can somehow manage because the way he said it felt tender yet dirty.
I want to be ravaged. Consumed. Explored.
I want heat and fire and lust so powerful that nothing else enters our thoughts.
Once my bra’s off, he pulls away to see me, and a smile takes over his face. And those dimples. Hell. He rubs the back of his head almost as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself now.
“Shit,” is mumbled beneath his breath.
That’s all I get. Then he’s back on me, pushing me down in wild desperation until my head meets the bed.
My breast is captured in his hand while his tongue draws a circle around my nipple.
Cool air is replaced with his hot breath, and I shiver and squirm, my hips arching up, my pussy needing contact.
I grab his pants and yank them down over his hips, feeling the silky jersey material of his briefs and the firmness of his ass. I pull him back into the V of my legs and grind shamelessly against him.
He grunts against my nipple, giving it a hard suck that makes me grind harder. “Quinn, if you keep rubbing your cunt on me like that, I’m going to come like a fucking teenager.”
Honestly, I could come from this. That’s how worked up I am. And the feel of his hard cock rubbing the satin of my panties against my clit, giving me a delicious sort of friction, is getting me closer to that point.
Sensing this, his hand slips into my panties and cups me. He growls. “Fuck, you’re soaked.” He rubs me a few times while he sucks my nipple, bites the tip, then crawls down my stomach to his knees. “I have to taste that.”
My panties are pulled off, and my heels hit the floor with a thud.
He places my knees on his shoulders and roughly grips my ass so he can slide my pussy straight onto his mouth.
I get a swirling, hard, dirty kiss that makes my eyes roll back in my head.
I can’t remember the last time a guy went down on me, let alone volunteered his services as tribute.
Christ, that’s good.
My fingers wind into his hair, and I make a fist with them. He inhales me and emits a groan that has my toes curling. He kisses my pussy, then slides his tongue from my clit to my entrance.
My hips jerk as he folds his tongue and thrusts it straight up into me.