Chapter 36
Showering with Quinn is even better than I thought. Especially when she’s on the right side of the glass, and it’s her hand on my cock rather than my own.
She spits a thick wad of saliva onto my already slick shaft before running her tongue over the head, moaning as she tastes me again. Between the sensation of her hot mouth sucking on me and the burning water pounding down on my shoulders, my head is floating.
I tighten my hold on her wet hair and guide her further down my length.
She opens her mouth wider and takes me easily, making my toes curl into the tile.
Her glassy gaze stays upward, locked on my face as she runs her tongue down the underside and sucks harder.
It’s the first time she’s given me head, and thank fucking God she didn’t try last night.
At least this morning, I’ve got decent stamina.
Though that may be pissing her off. The narrowing of her eyes as she starts to lap at my leaking tip and cups my balls in her hand gives me the feeling that she wants to make me come sooner than later.
My smirk has her teeth gliding along my shaft. “Do your knees hurt, Quinny?”
She tightens her grip on my sac. I groan tightly, my thighs clenching. The promise of relief is already burning in my belly, but I love seeing this side of her too much to let her know that.
“It feels so fucking good. Your mouth is perfect,” I coax, pulling on her hair, watching her lashes flutter in response. “Can you take me deeper? Hmm?”
Determination flares in her eyes, and the next thing I know, she’s taking me deep enough that I bump the back of her throat before stalling. Her subtle gag makes my cock kick in her mouth, and she claws my ass, keeping me in place.
I force my hips to remain locked in place. “That’s a good fucking girl, taking me in your throat like that. You want more?”
She presses her thighs together, and I curse, digging a fist into the shower wall at my side.
I want to be gentle, to let her do what she wants and explore me in a similar way to how I’ve explored her.
It’s the only fair option. So why do I want to grip her cheeks and thrust the last two inches into her perfect mouth and feel as I slide down her throat?
Pulling off me, she coughs once and licks the entire length of me with the flat of her tongue. When her face moves lower, down to where my balls are tight and aching—
“Fuck!” I spit, pulling too hard on her.
Her lips are so tight around me as she sucks my sac into between them and moans. The vibrations do something to me that has thick drops of cum gathering at my tip before sliding down. She catches them with her tongue and slaps a hand to my tensing abs, keeping me in place.
“Stop teasing me,” I growl, too close. “Put it in your mouth and make me come.”
She smiles smugly at the blunt desperation in my tone and does exactly that. I see fucking stars when she bobs on it, the wet sound of her sucking driving me to the brink.
Nodding down at her, I croak, “Swallow for me, baby.”
Her lashes flutter as she keeps her eyes high, watching me as she takes every drop of what I pump into her mouth.
I come so hard my vision goes white around the edges.
My girl surprises me for the millionth time and presses a gentle kiss on the sensitive tip before I’m gripping her forearms and helping her to her feet.
The moment I’ve got her standing, I twist us and plaster her to the wall. Goosebumps cover her arms, and guilt stuns me for a beat. She’s quick to shake her head and take my hand, guiding it between her legs.
“I’m not cold,” she whispers.
Running the pads of my fingers over her still-swollen pussy, I play with her clit and kiss her. Not a thing in the world could stop me from having her like this, including the taste of me on her tongue.
Her legs spread for me. I use my thumb to work her sensitive nub while I tease her entrance. “Did sucking my cock make you this wet, Quinn? Or was it swallowing my cum?”
“Both,” she taunts.
I stare down at her, my breath sawing in and out of me.
Her face scrunches in pleasure when I glide two fingers inside of her, not bothering with one.
Between the two times I had her last night and the one this morning before we crawled into the shower, she’s more than ready for the stretch.
Her nails dig into my wrist, and I know it won’t take long to make her come.
“You’re mine,” I tell her, curling my fingers, searching for the spot—
“Yes, Beck! I’m . . . I’m coming.”
Fuck, she was ready from just sucking me off.
I grind my palm against her clit now while plunging my fingers deep.
She tips her head back and rocks against me, chasing the climax that’s making her throb around my fingers.
Tapping them to that sensitive place she loves so much, I help her over the edge and suck on her pulse, feeling as it speeds, then slows.
“That’s it,” I coo, running my lips up to her ear, my nose pressing into her wet hair. “You’re so beautiful. I could watch you come like that all the time.”
She laughs breathily. “What a boring existence that would be.”
“You’re wrong, but I’ll let it go this once.”
Finally, I guide her away from the wall and beneath the hot water. The heavy pulse of it rains down her shoulders and chest. It’s a task in itself just to keep my eyes from following every droplet that trickles down her naked skin, but I manage.
“I’m going to be late for work.”
“We’re going to be late for work.”
She snorts and reaches for her shampoo. I don’t point out that neither of us brought it in earlier or that it’s not the only product sitting on the usually empty shelf below all of my things.
Moving them here was something she did this week while I was gone.
Fuck me, the thought of her feeling comfortable enough here to shower in my bathroom . . .
I’m pathetic.
I stand silently and watch her massage her scalp, getting it sudsy.
Dark, rich cherries fill the shower, and I inhale the aroma greedily, letting myself drown in her.
The soft close of her eyes exposes her inner peace, and I swallow the thickness in my throat, not wanting to shatter her mood with growled words.
“Can I?”
She pauses but then nods. Her hands fall to her sides, the soap bubbles dripping to the tile.
I take her shoulders and guide her beneath the water before gently tilting her head back and running my fingers over her scalp.
Weaving them through the strands, I release a tight breath and take the last step left between us.
She moulds into my chest and stays there as I rinse her hair.
Not willing to part from her yet, I reach behind her and grab the twin bottle to the one she used before. She rests her forehead on my sternum and winds her arms around my middle, holding me as I start working the thick conditioner into the bottom section of her hair.
I’ve never done this before, but I think I’m doing an alright job.
She’s breathing softly and evenly against me, and I continue playing with the slick strands for what feels like hours, working them around my knuckles and applying a firm pressure to the base of her skull.
Neither of us moves or speaks; we simply . . . exist together.
Her slight shiver sparks concern as I reluctantly begin rinsing her hair.
“Come on, I still need to feed and water you,” I tease.
“I’m not a houseplant.”
I click my tongue. “Of course not. Don’t demean yourself. You’re more like a rose bush.”
Her choked laugh penetrates my chest, making my heart soar. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not by this.”
“Nah. You’re prickly on the outside, but once you get past those, you have the softest fucking petals.”
“That’s . . . actually a really sweet thing to say.”
“You’re just realizing that I’m a total romantic god?”
That’s what does it. Her eyes are glowing with warmth when she shoves me to the shower down and twists the tap off.
“Get out before I throw a shampoo bottle at you.”
My cock twitches at the threat, already hard again. When she realizes the response I’ve had to her, she shakes her head in bewilderment.
“I’ve never met a guy who finds being bullied such a turn-on. Have you ever gone to the doctor to get that checked out?”
“I already know what they’d say.”
She swings open the glass door and arches a brow up at me. “Pray tell, oh mighty one.”
Grinning so widely I know I’m flashing her double dimples, I pinch her chin and lower my head. She inhales deeply through her nose and waits.
“You’re both the sickness and the cure, Quinny. I’m doing just fine.”
“I still haven’t forgiven you about the whole issue with the bill, by the way,” Quinn drawls when we walk inside the coffee shop.
She doesn’t wait for me to reply before letting Bodi off his leash and taking off to help Eli behind the counter.
I tuck my now-empty hand into my pocket and look around.
Not a single table is empty, and the continuous chatter is almost soothing after so many days of listening to it.
I don’t flinch when the espresso machine spits angrily or when a couple clink their glasses too hard and the glass scrapes together.
There’s a settling feeling that envelops me as I wander to the counter and watch her get to work.
Callie’s not here, leaving only Eli to man the place by himself.
A guilty wince works across her features that tugs hard on my gut.
Without another thought, I slip through the tables and chairs and start gathering dirty dishes.
The stack of them on the shelf above the square garbage is next on my list. I tackle the pile of them and bring them to the kitchen.
The surprised gasp from the opposite side of the room lets me know that Ruthie’s still here.
I set the dirty dishes into the sink before reaching up to push my hair back and turn my hat around.
She’s staring at me with a coy smile, her forearms buried deep inside the massive bag of flour on the ground.
“Well, good morning, Beck.”