CHAPTER 43
Cole
Fuck, the image of Quinn looking up at me makes my cock strain painfully against the fabric of my board shorts.
She pulls me the rest of the way free, pre-cum already beading at the tip, and wraps her fingers around me. The warmth of her palm, the squeeze of her hand—it’s almost too much, too good.
My hips lurch forward into her touch, and I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from losing it. I want to stretch this out, revel in every second her hands are on me, etch it into memory. A part of me throbs with more than lust, it’s the need to hold on to her, to prove this isn’t fleeting.
“Are you sure?” I rasp, breath catching. “You don’t have to, Quinn.”
She answers with lips curved in a wicked smile, eyes glittering as she takes me in. For a heartbeat, disbelief hits me. This is Quinn choosing me, even if it means damning the friendship and tearing holes in the arrangement we swore to keep.
Her mouth closes around my tip and she swirls her tongue before sucking softly, teasing. My vision swims. She pulls back with a pop, licking the bead of moisture from my crown.
“Like this?” She bats her eyelashes.
A groan rips from me. “Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.”
Every time she takes me farther down her throat, she hums, and the sound reverberates straight through my chest. Saliva coats me as she works, her throat flexing until my vision blurs at the edges.
As long as I live, I’ll never forget the sight of her like this, on her knees, lips stretched around me.
She drags her tongue slowly along the underside, pausing at the spot just beneath the crown, before sliding me back into her mouth again. My back arches, muscles tightening, as she strokes and sucks in perfect sync.
“Quinn, shit, I’m close,” I grit out, hand tightening in her hair as I try to pull away. “I don’t want to—”
She shakes her head. Between breaths she manages a muffled but firm “Don’t you dare.”
She sucks harder, pumps faster, and my body snaps. Pleasure rips through me, my toes curling in my shoes as I spill down her throat, shuddering. She swallows me down, eyes never leaving mine, like she owns me.
When she pulls back, she wipes her thumb through a pearly drop on her lip and licks it clean.
“Jesus, Quinn,” I breathe. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She stands, presses a quick kiss to my mouth, whispering an apology as her gaze flicks to my still half-hard cock. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… after, you know.”
“Don’t ever apologise,” I murmur, crushing my mouth to hers, tasting myself, and it only stokes the need in me again.
I guide her back to the bed, her legs hitting the mattress as I lower her onto it. My lips trace a hot path down her neck, pausing to peel off her bikini top and draw a nipple into my mouth before edging south.
She cries out, arching, offering herself up, then she stiffens, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. I feel it before she speaks, the way her hand falters as if holding me back.
“I… no one’s ever wanted to do that before,” she whispers, voice barely audible. Her eyes dart away, shame flickering. “Josh never…” Her words trail off, unfinished, but heavy.
I ease my mouth from her skin, brushing my thumb over her hip. “Quinn, I want to. Only if you want me to. Let me show you.” I brush her hair back, needing her to see I mean it.
The thought that no one ever touched her with the kind of care she deserves twists something deep inside me. It makes me want to show her, prove to her, that she should have always been worshipped this way.
Her chest rises and falls, and after a long beat she nods. I switch breasts, teasing one with my mouth as my hand trails between her thighs. She trembles under my touch, goose bumps rising like she’s still deciding whether to let herself believe this is real.
“What if you don’t like… What if—?” She tenses, breath stuttering like she’s bracing for rejection.
“You’re perfect,” I say firmly, moving my lips against to her left thigh. “I want to taste you so badly, Quinn. Please let me.”
Her body arches, breath breaking. “O-okay,” she whispers.
I lower my head and place a soft kiss on her clit, still not quite believing I get to be here like this—with her—but just as I’m about to truly taste her, she sits up suddenly. I startle back and find her eyes wide, cheeks flushed.
I freeze. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, of course not.” Guilt shadows her face. “But… we shouldn’t be doing this.” She gestures between us. “Sorry, I, uh, got carried away.”
The words slam into me. My chest feels carved out. This wasn’t just sex for me. This was about her, finally, and now it’s unravelling. I sit back on my heels, trying to hide how hard it hits.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I don’t ever want you uncomfortable.”
She looks away, chewing her lip. “I should shower.”
“I’ll be here if you need me.” I scratch the back of my neck, nerves buzzing, desperate to show her I mean it.
Her eyes flick to where I discarded my shorts, the front still damp. Colour rushes to her cheeks. She bites her lip. “Thanks. I’ll, um… be back?”
She slips out before I can answer, leaving me standing there, cock still heavy, heart cracked open.
The silence rushes in at once, deafening.
My pulse still thunders, the ghost of her mouth and hands lingering on me.
I press my palms over my face, dragging in a ragged breath, but it does nothing to steady me.
I’ll never be enough for her.
And worse, I know something’s shifted between us, something that can’t be undone. Whatever we were before tonight doesn’t fit anymore, and the silence she leaves behind feels like the start of something I don’t know how to stop.