by Liz Lincoln
Right. Her car. Jump car so he could jump her.
She was about to push him away so they could take care of the dead battery when he put his hand by her knee and slid it up her thigh until her skirt was pulled almost to her waist on one side.
“I’m not talking about your battery.” At the same time, his lips covered hers and his hand plunged down the front of her panties. She cried out from how good it felt as he slid two long fingers between her folds.
Back and forth, back and forth, he moved easily through her wetness. She raked her teeth over his lower lip, soft cries escaping the back of her throat as he worked her clit with a mastery born of familiarity. How strange that a brain would hold on to information for almost a decade about how a certain person liked their clit touched. But it definitely had. In less than a minute she was grinding his hand and clutching his shoulders, desperate for that final push into orgasm.
She squirmed, trying to work his hand into the right place. The cool metal at her back slid against her jacket and made it hard to create just the right friction. It left her hungry and desperate.
But she also knew that while one orgasm would satisfy her temporarily, it wouldn’t be enough. Quinn had the unique ability to leave her always wanting.
“I need—” Her words cut off on a gasp as he curved two fingers up inside her. The gasp rolled into a moan as he pressed them against her G-spot. “Yes.”
He stopped kissing her, his mouth simply pressed to hers as he focused on her pleasure. “That’s it, sweetheart.”
Something cracked in her chest at the endearment. He’d called her that all through college, even before they were a couple. She still got a pang of sadness whenever she heard someone call their significant other “sweetheart.” To hear it from him after all this time ached even as it thrilled.
Did he call other women the same thing? Surely he couldn’t, even as angry as he’d been with her. In college, she’d never heard him call his other girlfriends any kind of pet name. Sweetheart had been just for her.
He pressed his thumb down hard, just above her clit, and her pleasure shot so high, she could no longer think. He could call her anything he wanted as long as she got to come. Her hips swiveled and thrust, working against him, working with him. She felt the sensations everywhere: her toes, her tingling scalp, the apples of her cheeks.
A few more twists and slides and she reached her peak. Everything hovered and stilled, her breath caught on a soundless cry, and she arched against him. Then the sensation broke and flowed and she shook, flying outside her body yet so beautifully part of it. She clung to Quinn with her hands and her lips and her pussy, using him to pull even more ecstasy out of the moment.
“That’s it,” he murmured before his tongue plunged into her mouth. His hand had stilled between her legs; he must have remembered she preferred that he apply pressure for her orgasm rather than continue to thrust. Instead he thrust with his mouth, his body working to bring maximum pleasure to hers.
At last she sagged against him, aftershocks still rippling through her but the tension spent. Quinn gave her one last light caress as he withdrew his hand. He trailed his fingers up her belly, leaving a damp path that tickled. She squirmed and, despite all that had just happened, giggled.
She felt his smile against her mouth. “Still ticklish.”
“Very.” She wound her arms around his waist and ducked her head down so she could rest it on his chest. If he remembered so much else, he would remember she liked to be held for a few quiet minutes after orgasm.
He tucked his chin over her head, wrapped his arms around her, and let her relax against him. What little tension was left in her body continued seeping out of her until she was an overcooked noodle against him.
“You good?” he asked softly.
She murmured an affirmative sound. Then a thought popped into her head that caused her shoulders to stiffen. What if he didn’t want to do this? Sure, he still had a raging hard-on, currently pressed into her belly. But maybe now that the fog was lifting, he wouldn’t want to come home with her. What if that’s what he was really asking?
“Are we really going to do this?” he asked. “You still want this?”
OK, so he was as uncertain as she was. She lifted her head so she could see his face when she spoke. The lighting cast him in shadows, but at least she could make out most of his expression. He looked open, if a little tense. But that could be his arousal as much as anything.
“Maybe we need closure. We—I—ended it kind of abruptly. So maybe we just need one night to sort of, I don’t know.” Have closure? She already said that.
“Say goodbye?” he offered.
Sure, that would work. “Yes. Exactly.”
“So, one night? That’s it?” His eyebrows drew together in a frown.
Why a frown? “Right. Get it all out of our system so we can work together without all this”—she waved a hand in the small space between their chests—“whatever this is. Tension, I guess.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed somewhere around her chin. “Right. One night. Get it out of our systems.”
Something in his voice sounded like he was only about 90 percent on board. “You sound like you don’t like this plan.” Please, Quinn. I need this. I need this so I can finally move on.
Her own thought was a surprise, though maybe it shouldn’t have been. That she followed his career even when it wasn’t required for hers, that she compared every man she dated to him, should have been clues. She’d never fully gotten over Quinn. Hence the parking garage finger bang.
He pressed a chaste but gentle kiss to her forehead, then stepped back. “No, I’m definitely on board. You don’t have a roommate, right? So, your place?”
Natalie blinked to work through the subject detour. “I don’t. Sure. My place.”
“Then let’s get this car of yours running and I can follow you there.” His footsteps echoed as he headed for his own car to run its power into her engine.
Car. Right. They hadn’t finished taking care of that. Natalie headed for her driver’s side door.
One night. Then he would finally be out of her system for good.
Chapter 15
One night. Get it out of our systems.
Except it was going to take a fucking lot more than one night to get Natalie Griffith out of his system. If it hadn’t happened in the past eight years, it wasn’t happening after one night.
Still, maybe the sex wasn’t as good as he remembered. Maybe their chemistry had faded over time.
A memory of how hard her pussy had gripped his fingers as she came in his arms a few minutes ago had his cock swelling even harder. He stomped a little too hard on his brake at a stop sign, the car jolting. He took a moment to adjust his painfully tight balls before following Natalie through the intersection and into the residential suburban neighborhood.
A few blocks later she pulled into the driveway of a cream brick bungalow. He parked on the street two houses up, as she’d requested. She’d told him she shared the house with Annie and admitted she didn’t want her friend recognizing Quinn’s car. “She’ll try to make this into something it’s not,” Natalie had said.
It was just his pride that stung, nothing more. Of course they wanted to keep this between the two of them. He had no plans to tell anyone else either, for the same reason. Plus, it wouldn’t be stellar for her reputation as a reporter. Even if it was about things entirely unrelated to either of their careers.
Quinn met her at her front step and waited as she unlocked the door. He stepped in close enough that he could smell her soft, fresh scent. It hadn’t changed over all the years. She smelled like sunshine and good memories.
A smile tugging at one side of his mouth, he lifted his hand to his nose and inhaled. He swallowed a groan at how good she smelled where he’d had those fingers not too long ago. Not s
unshine, but definitely good memories.
He couldn’t wait to get his mouth between her legs and taste her. He loved giving oral sex, and he’d never enjoyed it more than with Natalie.
He’d never enjoyed anything more than with Natalie.
Inside her house, she dropped her purse on the floor next to a small table and slipped off her heels. She turned to him, instantly shorter in comparison. While he absolutely appreciated what the heels had done for her legs, he liked her at her usual height too. Liked the way their bodies lined up.
He held back while she locked the door and hung up their coats and his suit coat—might as well keep that unwrinkled. He kicked off his uncomfortable dress shoes as she dug around for hangers.
The second she shut her closet door, he swept her into his arms and kissed her. He couldn’t stop himself. He needed her. He’d held it back for what felt like forever. Since that very first day of training camp when he’d seen that sexy toss of blond hair and known instantly it was Natalie.
Now, finally, he could unleash all the hunger. All the want, with a good dose of bottled-up frustration to go with it.
She wrapped her arms around his chest and plunged her tongue into his mouth, as desperate as he was. Because he couldn’t stand more playing around, his fingers crawled up her spine, searching for the dress’s zipper. She tugged his shirt from his waistband.
All the while, they stumbled sideways, feet tangling together a few times so they almost fell. He let her lead since he didn’t know her apartment layout. Hopefully she was leading them to a horizontal surface; his legs weren’t going to hold him much longer. Plus, if they were lying down, he’d better be able to explore all of her.
He tugged down the zipper slowly, trailing his fingers down her spine as he parted the fabric. She moaned into his mouth, arching into him, her breasts pressing tighter to his chest.
They pulled apart at the same time, just as he finished opening her zipper. He smoothed the one sleeve off her shoulder and down her arm, drawing the soft material away from her. When she pulled her arm free of the sleeve, the whole thing fell to her feet.
Leaving her before him in nothing but panties the same deep purple as the dress, and some kind of flower stickers over her nipples.
What the fuck? Stickers?
She tugged on his tie, then stopped. “What?”
He hesitated, then touched a flower petal a few shades darker than her skin. “What are these?” Were they pasties? But those were for strippers in states where they didn’t allow the dancers to be completely topless, weren’t they?
She laughed awkwardly. “My strapless bra broke while I was getting dressed and I didn’t have time to get a new one. So I used these pasties so I didn’t have my nipples announcing themselves all night. They’re just stick-on.” She ripped off one, then the other.
Exposing erect nipples that seemed to be pointing right at his mouth.
She’d been bare all night under that dress. No bra.
Oh, fuck me.
His mouth was on her before he knew what he was doing, sucking one of those perfect nipples between his lips. She moaned and wound her arms around his neck. He braced her with one arm at her waist, the other behind her shoulders.
She tasted so good. Sweet and warm and a little salty. Like dancing with him had made her sweat a little. She tasted perfect.
And her reaction was even more perfect. Twisting and squirming and moaning.
“Please,” she gasped.
Begging. Oh fuck. He was a total sucker for when she begged.
“Please what?” He trailed his tongue over her skin, leaving a wet trail between her breasts, until he reached her other nipple.
“I don’t kno—oh!” Her fingers dug into his scalp as she cried out when he sucked the other one into his mouth. He scraped her with his teeth and she cried out again.
His cock screamed at him for some kind—any kind—of reciprocation. It wanted just as much attention as he was giving her body. But it would just have to wait, because he was enjoying her breasts far too much to abandon them now.
And he would have his mouth on her pussy and make her come at least once more before he let himself inside her. She didn’t always come during actual intercourse, and yes, she’d had one orgasm already. But he enjoyed women’s orgasms almost as much as he enjoyed his own. He figured they should get roughly three for his one. Math wasn’t his best subject, but even he knew that meant Natalie got at least two more.
Now, he needed it now. He couldn’t wait.
He opened his eyes and scanned the room for a couch. And look at that, she’d steered them so they were only a few feet away.
Reluctantly, he lifted his head and looked down at her. She dragged her lids open and gazed up at him, her eyes as glazed over and unfocused as his felt.
Yet he saw her face with perfect clarity. Pupils huge in her blue eyes, a subtle sparkle to the purple painted on her eyelids, dark lashes. A few dots of freckles under her eyes, lingering from summer.
And her lips. Oh fuck, her lips. They were dark pink and puffy from their kisses. If he undid his pants and took out his cock, he had little doubt she’d wrap them around him and suck until he came down her throat. He stroked his hand over her neck, picturing it.
But no, not right now. If they really were going to do this for twelve hours like she initially proposed, if he was spending the whole night in her bed, they had time for that later.
He pressed lightly on her shoulder. “Lie down.”
She licked her bottom lip and he didn’t even realize he was going to do it until his teeth touched her. He scraped them over that same lip, taking the path her tongue had just traced.
“I love when you do random things like that.” Her voice was breathy. He loved it that way.
He’d known she liked all the impulsive, playful things he did. Apparently his body remembered on a subconscious level. “I know,” he said. His voice had dropped low and sounded overly husky in his head. It might have felt cheesy but he wasn’t trying. She just did that to him.
“I’ll lie down if you take off your tie.” Backing toward the couch, she gave him a playful smile. “I feel a little silly in just my underwear and all you’ve taken off is your shoes.”
He didn’t plan to leave her underwear on much longer. As she stretched out on the yellow-and-white couch, he yanked his tie over his head. He undid his cuffs, unbuttoned the top few buttons on his dress shirt, then yanked it and his undershirt off. He paid zero attention to where he dropped them. He’d probably regret that in the morning, but he couldn’t make himself stop to neatly fold them and put them somewhere sensible.
If sensible were the goal, they’d both failed that miserably hours ago. There was nothing sensible about any of their behavior toward each other tonight.
He dropped to his knees next to the couch and slid a hand up the outside of her thigh. “Is this OK?” he asked, watching her face for any sign of hesitation. Yes, she’d been the one to initiate this wild night of debauched closure, but now that he was fully on board, he was damn well going to make sure she hadn’t changed her mind. At the first sign she had, he was gone.
She reached down to slide her panties over her hips. Baring her naked pussy to him. His mouth went dry. Sure, he’d had his hand down there earlier. But he was a visual guy, and seeing her so close made him weak. Ravenous.
Let me out, asshole! his cock screamed.
Oh fuck. He could already see himself sliding his tongue between those folds. They already glistened with her wetness.
She opened her legs, her gaze locked on his, and draped one over his shoulder, drawing him between her thighs. Drawing him closer.
His mouth watered. Desert, floodplain. Apparently he was only capable of extremes tonight.
“Back in the garage was so good,” she said, her expression pure sed
uction.
As if he needed to be seduced.
“But it wasn’t enough. I need more, Quinn.”
He moved without thinking, without planning his approach. He’d imagined licking, so he did. With his tongue wide and flat, he took a long, slow lick of Natalie’s pussy.
Oh fuck.
She tasted so good. Hot and needy and feminine and perfect. She tasted like everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d been searching for.
She tasted like home.
Well, fuck, there was a sobering thought. That was just his sex-deprived, overly horny dipshit brain reacting. Pussy didn’t taste like home. Natalie sure as fuck didn’t taste like home. Maybe once upon a time she had, but not anymore. This was just sex. Blow his mind right out of his head good sex, but still just sex.
It didn’t take long for Natalie to be writhing and moaning. She tugged his hair, chanting “yes” over and over. When he set up a pattern of long, slow licks alternated with sharp sucks at her clit, she released his head with one hand.
He took a moment to glance up her body. Her fingers had found one nipple and plucked at it. The sight of her touching herself, head pushed back in ecstasy, was so fucking sexy, his rhythm faltered.
She whimpered and he got back to it. With each suck at her clit, he pulled a little harder, knowing it would bring her up and over the edge. And as much as he loved being exactly where he was, if he didn’t give his cock some attention soon, he was going to come in his pants. Not his preferred location.
By the time she hit the peak, she’d planted both feet on his shoulders, shoving her pussy up to his face. He held her ass in his hands, bracing her. She had both hands on her breasts and was chanting his name.
If she didn’t want Annie to know they were hooking up, she’d better hope her friend wasn’t home. There was no way Natalie’s cries wouldn’t carry to the apartment upstairs.
