Chapter 20 Quentin #2
“Oh, I think you would,” he murmured, dark and taunting. "I think you’ve been dreaming about it." His lips brushed the shell of her ear. "Rubbing that needy little pussy while you imagined my cock splitting you open, just like when I caught you in that fucking bathtub."
She gasped, sharp and involuntary, and fuck, it went straight to his cock. Her pupils flared, breath catching like she’d been sucker-punched by lust.
She was slipping. He could see the cracks spiderwebbing through her resolve, the raw need seeping from the seams she’d stitched too tight.
The corner of his mouth curled in a knowing smirk.
God, he loved her like this. Defiant and desperate, trembling with fury and want, her pride crumbling beneath the weight of her want.
He leaned in, dragging the coarse edge of his beard along her jaw until she gasped, then lingered at her ear, breathing her in.
Warm skin, sharp perfume, the faintest taste of strawberries.
It was maddening, nearly unbearable, borderline addictive.
It was like a meal to a starving man, he wanted more, needed more, and every second he stayed there only made the craving worse.
“Admit it,” he growled, voice wrecked and low. “You want it. You want me to fuck the denial out of your pretty little mouth until you’re hoarse from begging. Until you forget how to lie to me.”
She shivered, lips parting like she might argue but nothing came out. Only the sound of her breath catching in her throat as he brushed his mouth over her cheek.
“What’s it gonna take, hmm?” he whispered, eyes hooded. “You want me to grovel for something I don’t even remember doing? Want me to kiss your feet? Because I will.”
He dropped to his knees, the frozen ground biting through his pants, sharp and punishing. He didn’t flinch. Not when she looked down at him like this, breath coming quick and uneven, like a queen surveying her conquered.
He bent and kissed her ankle through the fabric of her jeans, then again higher, just above her knee. Then higher still. His stubble scraped across the jeans at the inside of her thigh, coaxing a quiet curse from her lips.
“Is this what you want?” he murmured, mouth hovering just below the seam of her pants, heat radiating off her.
Her answer came on a shaky exhale. “It’s a start.”
Her hand shot down, fingers tangling in his hair, dragging his face up with a firm yank. Her nails bit into his jaw as she forced him to his feet, refusing to look away. Just that look, fire and dare, wild and ruined.
She turned his face toward hers, and for a second, neither of them breathed. Her eyes weren’t soft. They didn’t hold love or forgiveness. What they held was far more dangerous, a challenge that made his blood thrum and his chest tighten.
“Say it,” he whispered, barely holding himself together. “Say you want this.”
Her lips parted, her voice rough and unsteady when she finally spoke. “Fine,” she said. “I want it.”
She hauled him in and crushed her mouth to his, all teeth and tongue and unspoken fury. Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt to find his skin.
He groaned into her mouth, catching her waist and grinding her back against the tree, pinning her there like he might die if he didn’t. She wrapped a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, gasping when she felt the hard line of him through his jeans.
She kissed him like she hated herself for it, like she needed him just as much as she wanted to destroy him. Her teeth scraped his lip, and he growled into her mouth, hauling her hard against him.
He was already thick and throbbing, grinding into her, desperate for friction. She whimpered, a wild, broken sound that made his vision darken.
Without breaking the kiss, he pushed her harder into the tree, the rough bark scraping her jacket. His hands were everywhere, yanking her tighter, threading through her hair, sliding down to cup her ass and lift her off the ground.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, grinding against him with frantic, desperate rolls of her body, every tiny movement sending shocks of white-hot pleasure through him. His cock throbbed against the seam of her jeans, aching with the need to be inside her.
“I need you to touch me. Please,” she moaned, voice wrecked with need. Fuck. That voice, begging like that, had him so close he was about to come in his jeans.
“You don’t beg fair,” he growled against her mouth, and then he kissed her harder, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in a frenzy that made them both gasp for air.
His hands shoved under her jacket, dragging up her shirt, then pushing beneath her bra until his palms finally found bare, burning skin.
He groaned when he felt her nipples pebbling instantly against his calloused fingers. She arched into him with a desperate little sob when he rolled one between his fingers, rough pads teasing her with just enough pressure to make her whimper.
Sadie broke the kiss with a sharp cry, her head thudding back against the tree, body trembling in his grip.
“Shit,” he muttered, watching her come undone just from that. “You’re so fucking responsive. It’s driving me insane.”
He trailed kisses down her jaw, along the slender column of her throat, scraping his teeth over her racing pulse just to feel her shudder. She whimpered again, thighs tightening around his waist.
He fumbled with the button of her jeans, cursing under his breath as he yanked the zipper down with rough, impatient hands.
Sliding his hand inside, past her jeans and the damp silk of her panties, he found her slick and throbbing. His fingers slipped easily through her folds—wet and swollen and aching for more.
“Jesus fuck,” he hissed, voice raw with lust. He pushed two fingers deep inside her without hesitation. She cried out, hips jolting forward, clenching tight around him like her body had been starved for this.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he growled, curling his fingers just right until her legs shook. “Dripping all over my hand, baby.”
“Someone might see,” she whimpered, hips jerking helplessly against his hand, grinding down harder, chasing every thrust. He knew he was being reckless. Taking her on set, anyone could have passed him. But he didn't give a fuck.
"I know you like to be watched," he rasped against her neck. “I think you’d love it if someone saw you like this. Fucked out and desperate with my fingers inside you.” She made a strangled noise, grinding down onto him, chasing the friction.
“You hate me, right?” he whispered against her throat, dragging his teeth over her skin. “Say it again.”
“I—fuck—you’re such an asshole—” she gasped, hands clawing at his back, nails raking down his spine.
“That’s right,” he snarled. “Hate me all you want, baby. But your pussy knows the truth.”
He curled his fingers again, slow and deep, and her entire body arched, a keening cry ripping from her throat. He didn’t let up, adding a third finger, fucking her open with filthy, relentless precision while sucking a mark into her neck.
“God, you’re so worked up,” he groaned. “You’ve been like this every time you look at me, haven’t you? Pretending to hate me while your body fucking aches for it.”
Her reply was a sobbed “yes,” muffled into his shoulder.
Her thighs clenched around his hips, her nails digging into his shoulders, dragging him even closer. She was riding his hand now, shameless, her head thrown back, little helpless noises tearing from her throat.
"That’s it," he grunted, thrusting deeper, harder. "Come for me. Come on, Sadie. Show me how much you hate me."
It didn’t take long. She shattered with a sharp cry, muffled against his shoulder, her whole body convulsing around his fingers. Her pussy clamped down on him, milking him, trembling hard.
He pulled his fingers free, slick and glistening with her, and didn’t hesitate as he brought them to his mouth, licking them clean. She tasted so fucking good.
Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow breaths. Her lips were red and swollen, kissed raw. Her thighs trembled where they clung to his hips, still parted for him, still pulsing.
"No more pretending," he said, voice a growl scraped raw from his throat and leaned down to kiss her again.