Chapter Twenty-One
After The Date
Damien
The engine of my truck goes quiet and neither of us moves. The headlights cut across the front of my house, washing the porch in pale light, and for a second everything feels suspended, like something is about to happen and we both know it.
Quinn exhales slowly beside me. “This was a good night,” she says.
“It was.”
But the words are too simple and too small for what tonight actually was. For what every night with her is.
I walk around the truck before she can reach for the handle. An old habit or a taught instinct but it doesn’t matter because something about her makes me want to do things right even when I’m barely holding myself together doing them.
When I open her door, she looks right at me and that’s when everything shifts.
Because she doesn’t just take my hand to step down, she holds it.
Her fingers tighten around mine when her boots hit the gravel, and suddenly she’s standing closer than she needs to be.
Close enough that I can feel the warmth of her through both our jackets.
Close enough that if either of us leans forward even a little. ..
Her breath catches and mine does, too.
“Damien...”
The way she says my name isn’t careful anymore. It isn’t friendly and it sure as fuck isn’t safe. It’s the sound of someone standing right at the edge of a decision.
I don’t think and I don’t wait. My hand simply slides from hers to her waist and I pull her in. Her back hits the side of the truck with a soft thud and my mouth is on hers before either of us can pretend this isn’t happening.
This kiss is different than any others we have shared before. Not rough or reckless but hungry in a way I’ve been trying not to be around her for months.
She makes this small sound against my mouth that goes straight to my cock. Her hands come up immediately, no hesitation and no surprise, gripping my jacket like she’s been waiting for me to do exactly this.
I shouldn’t kiss her like this outside. Not here. Not like this. But she leans into me instead of away and that’s it. That’s the end of my frayed restraint. A man can only handle so much.
My hand slides around her side and grips her ass, pulling her closer, and she presses against me like she belongs there. Like she always has.
Her fingers curl into my collar. “Damien,” she breathes against my lips.
It’s not a warning or even a protest. It’s permission and I take the opportunity to kiss her deeper, slower this time, letting myself feel it instead of fighting it.
Her mouth softens under mine immediately, like she’s been holding back just as long as I have. I know if I don’t stop now, we’re not making it inside. That realization hits hard enough that I pull back before instinct can take over completely.
Her lips part slightly when I move away and her eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“We should go inside,” I say, my voice lower than it should be.
She nods once but she doesn’t step away and neither do I. For a second longer we just stand there breathing the same air. Then I take her hand again and this time I don’t let go.
The house feels different the second the door closes behind us. Quieter, closer, and more charged. I flip the TV on out of habit more than intention and the screen fills the room with light and soft background noise, but neither of us is paying attention to it.
Quinn drops her cardigan over the arm of the couch like she already knows she isn’t leaving anytime soon.
I should say something, offer her a drink or make conversation. Do something normal. But instead I reach for her again. My hand finds her waist before I even realize I’ve moved.
She looks up at me, but she doesn’t step back, doesn’t even pretend she might.
“You’re not going to sit all the way over there,” I tell her quietly, glaring at the far side of the couch like it personally offended me.
A small smile pulls at her mouth. “No?”
“No.” I sit first and pull her with me and she lets me.
She doesn’t resist even a little when I guide her closer instead of letting her take the far end of the cushion. She ends up right beside me, closer than polite, closer than safe. But exactly where I want her.
The TV plays something neither of us is watching and her knee brushes mine. Then stays there. Her shoulder leans into my arm, then stays there, too.
I slide my hand along the back of the couch behind her and when she shifts slightly closer like she’s responding to it without thinking, something in my chest tightens.
“You’re not even pretending to watch,” she murmurs.
“Neither are you.” I counter.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.” My voice is lower and gravelly.
Her fingers slide lightly along my forearm.
Not accidental, not hesitant, but curious and deliberate, like she’s testing what happens if she touches me.
So I answer the question for her. My hand leaves the back of the couch and settles at her waist again and this time I don’t pretend it’s temporary.
She inhales softly but she doesn’t move away. Instead she shifts closer. Like she’s choosing this, choosing me.
“You keep doing that,” she says.
“Doing what?”
“Touching me like you’re not going to stop.”
“I’m not planning to stop,” I say honestly and her breath catches.
I don’t give her space to lean away. Not tonight. Not after that kiss against the truck. Not after the way she said my name.
My arm tightens around her waist, and I pull her closer until her hip presses fully against mine. She exhales slowly and her fingers slide into the front of my shirt like she needs something to hold onto.
“Damien...”
“Yeah.”
“I can feel your heartbeat.”
“It’s your fault.”
She laughs softly. “That makes me feel better.”
“It should.”
She turns toward me fully then. Not sideways and not careful. Just turns like she’s done pretending she doesn’t want this. Her right hand lifts slowly to my shoulder before the other one joins it. And before I can overthink it, I slide my hands under her thighs and pull her across my lap.
She gasps quietly at the sudden movement but she doesn’t resist. Doesn’t hesitate. And doesn’t ask me to stop.
Her hands tighten on my shoulders instead. “Damien...”
“You were too far away,” I tell her.
Her breath catches again. “You fixed that pretty fast.”
I don’t apologize because the truth is I needed her closer. Needed to feel her. Needed to stop pretending I could sit next to her like nothing was happening between us.
She shifts slightly on my lap and the second she does she freezes because now she can feel exactly what she does to me.
Her eyes lift slowly to mine, desire burning in their depths. “Oh.”
“You’re going to have to get used to that,” I say lowly.
Her cheeks flush but she doesn’t move away. Instead, her hands slide slowly from my shoulders down across my chest like she’s trying to steady herself.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” she whispers.
And those words almost undo me.
My hands settle at her waist again. Then move along her back before going higher, tangling in her hair, learning her slowly and carefully. Even though every instinct I have says pull her closer, faster.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.
Her fingers curl into my shirt again. “You keep saying that.”
“I’m not planning stopping.”
She touches my collar next. Then the edge of my shirt. Then the ink she already knows is there underneath it.
“Can I?” she asks softly.
“Yes.” The word is barely above her moan as I imagine her hands on my skin.
I pull my shirt off and her breath leaves her immediately. Her hands move over my shoulders like she’s been thinking about this longer than she’s admitting. Tracing, following lines, learning me the same way I’m learning her.
“I like these,” she murmurs.
“I like you.”
Her smile flashes quick, warm, and real. “I like hearing you say that.”
“It’s true.”
She leans forward without thinking, or maybe she is thinking. Maybe she’s just done pretending she isn’t. Her forehead brushes mine and her breath mixes with mine.
“You make it really hard to think straight,” she whispers.
“You don’t have to think. Tonight, I want you to feel.”
Using her hair, I tilt her head back and run my lips down her neck. A sigh falls from her lips and the sound locks into my soul. I make my way across her chin to her lips and when she kisses me this time there’s nothing careful left about it.
There is no hesitation and no second-guessing. Just heat and hands and breath and the quiet sound she makes when my grip tightens at her waist.
She shifts again in my lap, grinding against my erection and drawing a low moan from deep in my chest. Fuck! I wanted to take this slow but how am I supposed to stay in control when my dream girl is grinding her pussy on my erection.
“You’re incredible,” I murmur against her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip.
“Damien, please.”
Her fingers slide through my hair like she’s done it a hundred times before. Like she’s always known exactly where they belong.
“What, Quinn? Tell me what you need?”
“You,” she whispers. “I just need you.”
Her own lips fall to my chest, kissing the ink over my heart and sending goosebumps across my torso. Her tongue peaks out and traces my nipple before she places a kiss there.
“That feels so good, Quinn,” I mutter, grinding my erection against her. “You’re perfect.”
She looks up at me from beneath her lashes, a beautiful blush on her cheeks before she sits upright. She pulls her shirt over her head and drops it on the floor along with my sanity. She is wearing a pale pink lace bra and I can see her nipples through the fancy fabric.
“Fuck,” I mutter, wiping my hand across my mouth while I stare at her. “I’ve dreamed of this.
She blushes a deeper shade of red but her smile is beautiful. “You dream of me?”
“You’re the only woman I have ever dreamed of.”
“Oh, my.” The words are a whisper as they fall from her lips.
My hands go to her breasts, feeling the weight in my palms before sucking a nipple into my mouth while still enclosed in lace. She moans loudly, her back arching and I release her nipple.
“You’re incredible,” I mutter against her skin, undoing her bra and dropping it to the floor. “Your skin is so soft.”
“Please,” she begs in a pained whisper.
“You don’t have to beg me for anything, Quinn. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I want you inside me.”
I twist us and lay her flat on the couch. I hold myself over her using my arms.
“We don’t have to do this,” I say even though the words hurt. “We can stop at any time.”
She takes my chin in her hand and makes sure I am looking at her. “For the rest of your life, you will never get another cupcake again if you stop right now.”
“Feisty,” I mutter, before I kiss her again.
I pull her shorts down her legs and undo my jeans to free my cock. It lands heavily against her mound, smearing pre-cum on her skin.
“I wanted to take my time the first time.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says with a wink. “You can take your time tomorrow, or the day after.”
I push into her in a single smooth stroke and her back arches. She moans loudly and I lose all control. I thrust into her over and over, chasing pleasure while her pussy tightens around my length.
“You’re mine,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
She doesn’t hesitate and doesn’t pull back. Her hands pull me tighter against her as she whispers in my ear. “I am.”
She grows wetter as her orgasm crashes over her and drag me along with her. Both of us panting and lost in pleasure. Nothing has ever felt this good and I know in my heart nothing else ever will.
After a long silence, she pulls my face to her and kisses me softly. “I think I could love you, Damien.”
I smile softly. “I already know I love you, Quinn.”