No Strings Attached
Page 19
Then, everything about Quinn was a mystery. I didn’t even know her name, but I knew her body called out to mine.
Now, I know everything about her—mind, body, and soul—and she is all I’ll ever need.
When I look back up at her face, her eyes meet mine and she gives me that wicked smirk I love so much. “Don’t look at me like that, Quinn. I swear to God. I’ll lose my shit.”
My words come out in quick bursts, drops of sweat beading up on my forehead.
“Go ahead,” she taunts. “Do it. I want to see you come.”
Growling, I tilt my head back and try to hang on as long as possible, willing myself to keep control, because this feels so damn good—she feels so damn good. I don’t ever want to stop.
Quinn’s moans and cries are what push me over the edge. Listening to her pleasure is what makes me come. My balls tighten, and then white light explodes behind my eyes. I swear, it’s like I’m transformed into another dimension… some Matrix shit. I ride it out until my cock can’t take it anymore. Quinn writhes beneath me, milking my orgasm.
When I’m spent and can no longer stay upright, I pull out of her and lie beside her, tucking her against me.
“I love you,” I whisper, smoothing her hair.
“I love you,” she replies, pressing her cheek against my chest.
Fucking Quinn is magnificent. But being with her like this is a close second.
Gone are the days of us meeting up in random hotel rooms.
Gone are the days of built-up walls and no strings attached.
We’re all in.
Enjoy an excerpt of Watch and See, Available Now!
Prologue
His large palms and long fingers press firmly against the glass, while her pale back slides vigorously up and down, a mess of red hair in tangles around her.
Everything I observe on the other side of that window hits somewhere deep within me, igniting a fire I didn’t know was possible.
I watch.
I see.
I feel.
Her legs unravel from his waist, and he spins her around. She braces her hands against the glass and her mouth drops open as he enters her from behind. This is the first glimpse I’ve got of her face, and she’s beautiful. Her features are soft and delicate. But she’s no different than the rest—they’re all beautiful.
This is his favorite position. He takes almost every woman like this. And since it’s a favorite of his, it’s also become a favorite of mine. Well, a favorite to watch. I’ve only ever had sex in the missionary position, but I have a good imagination.
I continue to watch. He pushes; she pushes. He pulls; she surrenders. Sometimes, it’s slow and sensual. Other times, it’s fast and hard. It’s up to him. He sets the pace. The women are at his mercy, but I never see them leave without a sated expression. So, I can only guess it’s as good for them as it is for him...and for me.
The woman’s beautiful face contorts as she throws her head back. Judging by the way her mouth is hanging open and her throat is moving, I imagine she’s screaming, probably his name.
He bends her over even farther, his strong hands gripping her torso as his hips collide with hers, and he continues to thrust in and out forcefully. The sweat coating his chest accentuates the definition of his muscles. Gritted teeth and a tight jaw tell me he’s getting close, which disappoints me because I could watch him for hours.
I let out a breath I’ve been holding, licking my dry lips as I watch him push in even harder, his movements becoming erratic.
I probably shouldn’t watch. I’m sure some would think it’s perverse.
I don’t have a fetish, per se, but I do have to admit I get off.
I’d have to be dead not to.
Eventually, his body relaxes, and he pulls out, quickly walking to a nearby trashcan and disposing of the condom. His firm backside is almost as good as the front. I bite my lip, watching the muscles in his back. I want that. I want him.
She disappears, probably going to the bathroom to get cleaned up. He continues to walk around the living room naked. He’s still somewhat erect, and even in this state, it’s something that makes my mouth water and my imagination run wild.
I’m definitely going to have to take a bath before the ice cream tonight. There’s no way I can stand the throbbing between my legs any longer.
Regretfully, I place the binoculars down on the window sill and head for the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, I let the scene from the last few minutes play on loop as I check the temperature of the water until it’s just right.
When the tub is full, I step in and sink down, resting my head back and allowing the warmth to envelop me—my mind immediately going to him. Closing my eyes, I imagine him. I think about what it would be like to be in the window...to be his prey...to be consumed by him.
His hands.
His mouth.
His tongue.
Slipping my hand between my legs, I press my middle finger firmly against my clit and make slow circles before dipping down and collecting the wetness that has nothing to do with my bath. It doesn’t take long for me to coax an orgasm to the surface. The familiar tightness in my stomach has me increasing the friction and chasing my release.
Exhaling my appreciation, I sink further into the tub. I’m not completely sated, like the women when they leave his apartment, but I’ve taken the edge off enough to relieve the ache.
When I’m out of the bath and dried off, I walk to the freezer, making my selection for the night.
Red Velvet Cake.
Returning to the window sill with my carton of ice cream, I curl my legs under me and pick the binoculars back up.
He’s alone, and he’s no longer naked, but this look is a close second. The gray sweatpants he’s wearing hang loosely on his hips, displaying the V of his muscles that lead down below. His hair is wet. I don’t know why, but thinking of him being in the shower at the same time I was in the bath makes me feel connected to him in some weird way. I like it. Sometimes, I like watching what he does after the women leave almost as much as I enjoy watching what he does while they’re there.
Almost.
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Acknowledgements
Thank you for reading No Strings Attached! We’re so happy to bring you Jude and Quinn’s story. It’s a little off-the-beaten-path for us but still has the same Jiffy Kate humor and heart. So, we hope you love it as much as we do.
As with all of our stories, we have a few people we’d like to thank.
First, we’d like to thank our crazy, awesome families. They give us inspiration and so much grace. We wouldn’t be able to do what we do without them.
Second, we’d like to thank our team.
Pamela Stephenson, thank you for being an awesome alpha reader, sounding board, and cheerleader! We appreciate your presence in our lives and are so happy your YOU!
Nichole Strauss, thank you for being an amazing editor. Can you believe this is our twelfth book together? WOW. We appreciate you not kicking us to the curb and teaching us all the things along the way.
Juliana Cabrera, you knocked this cover OUT OF THE PARK!! Thank you for your creative insight and patience and for always working us in when we need you.
To our proofreader, Janice Owen, thank you for being so meticulous in your work.
And last, but certainly not least, we’d like to thank our super fun and supportive reader group, Jiffy Kate’s Southern Belles. Y’all are the best! Thank you for always being there for us and reading our words. You’re our favorite corner of the internet.
Much love,
Jiffy Kate
About The Authors
Jiffy Kate is the joint pen name for Jiff Simpson and Jenny Kate Altman. They’re co-writing besties who share a brain. They also share a love of cute boys, good coffee, and a fun time.
Together, they’ve written over twenty stories. Their first published book, Finding Focus, was released in November 2015. Since then, th
ey’ve continued to write what they know—southern settings full of swoony heroes and strong heroines.
You can find them on most social media outlets at @jiffykate, @jiffykatewrites, or @jiffsimpson and @jennykate77.
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