by Doyle, Dawn
I scanned the room for eavesdroppers. “I didn’t want to wake anybody,” I replied, gesturing with side-eye toward Josh.
“They know you were with me all night,” he said, his eyes shining with humor. “Your car was parked out front. Pretty damn obvious to anybody.”
I dropped my head to my hands, cradling my forehead. Quinn sat back and slouched in his seat. When I turned his way, I saw his frown. “What?”
“Are you embarrassed?” he scoffed, then moved closer, his face less than an inch away from mine. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. Isn’t it normal to stay over?” His eyes ticked, and his jaw hardened.
I matched his expression and added a snarl. “Yeah, but that’s not what this is about, and Josh and Layton would’ve seen—”
His frown deepened. “I don’t give a shit, Kinny,” he growled, his voice so low there was no mistaking it was only for my ears. “What we do as two consenting adults is nobody’s business but ours. We could be sleeping, or I could have you bound and gagged, and it’d still be nobody’s fucking business.” I reared back, my mouth falling open, and he smirked. “Would you like that, baby?”
“All you seem to think about in this situation is yourself,” I whispered. “How it looks for you—what people think about you. Well, what about me?” I pointed to myself. “Do you even care? I’m getting the impression it’s the furthest thing from your mind.” I laughed bitterly. “As long as we keep up appearances, who cares, right?” I crossed my arms over my chest, and he glanced down, then right back up to my face.
“First, Layton doesn’t know about us—he thinks we’re together for real, and I kept that from him because he was fucking Phoebe,” he spat, and my fists curled at her name. “Second, you haven’t got the slightest fucking idea what’s on my mind.”
“Then let me bring something to the forefront.” I stood and grabbed my bag. “We’re done,” I said. “It shouldn’t take long to find someone to take my place.” My insides lurched, and the bridge of my nose stung. I held my breath and gritted my teeth to keep the evidence from my face.
“What?” His voice rang out in the room, everybody else’s silencing.
I didn’t look at him when I headed out, instead choosing to lift my hand and flipping him off over my shoulder to the sound of metal scraping across the floor.
“Kinsley, what’s happening?” Mr. Stanson asked as I passed him in the doorway.
“Something’s come up, and I have to leave,” I rushed out. “I’ll make it up.”
“Quinn,” Mr. Stanson said, but nothing else.
“Kinny!” Quinn yelled out. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“I’ve just broken up with my boyfriend, so I’m going to get as far away from him as possible to nurse my broken heart,” I snapped. Long fingers wrapped around my upper arm to slow me down. I rounded and brought my knee up to my assailant, but he was quicker than I anticipated.
“That’s not nice,” he said, still gripping my knee mid-air, a couple of inches away from his balls, then shoved it back down, making me lurch forward a little. “I just want to talk.”
“Wow.” I moved closer, our bodies close, and tilted my head back. “That’s exactly what Owen said right before he dragged me to the ground.” Although I tried to keep my anger there by bringing up what happened with Owen, Quinn’s presence calmed me. I couldn’t let it. I couldn’t let him make me feel safe, because I wasn’t.
Not around him. Not with him. He’d shatter me.
Quinn’s face turned away slightly, the muscles in his jaw contracting, and his eyes closed. “Don’t say his name,” he ground out.
“Why?” I snorted. “Because he tried to hurt me? Well, boohoo for you, Quasimodo.” I thumped his chest. “You hurt me too. Just in a different way.” I spun on my heel and marched away, attempting to put space between us.
“How?” Quinn didn’t have to exert any energy to keep his stride with me, the asshole. “What did I do?” We turned the corner, right into a busy part of the hallway. Most of the classes were here, and late students were taking their fucking time going inside. “We need to talk about this, Kinny, I’m fucking serious.”
“Go to hell.” I weaved my way through the students, and once I was clear, I sighed.
“Been there, hated it—I’d rather not go back,” Quinn replied, his appearance beside me making me flinch and my shoulders to bunch.
“Can you leave me alone?” I choked.
“No. Not until you talk to me.”
I rubbed my forehead as I walked. “I don’t have anything more to say.”
“But I have,” he barked, retook my arm, and swung me toward him. His other hand was wrapped around a doorknob. “In here.” He pushed the door and practically hurled me inside.
The room was small, barely a few square-feet. The darkness disappeared at the flick of a switch behind me, the bulb casting a low glow around us. I turned to see Quinn turning the latch, and I backed up to the rickety-looking storage bench behind me.
“Kidnapping now?” I folded my arms across my chest.
Quinn’s smirk in the dimness was far more sinister than ever, and a cold shiver ran down my spine as he stepped toward me.
He placed his hands on either side of my hips on the old wooden surface. “I’m not above it,” he said, his lips dangerously close to my temple as he loomed over me. I turned my face away from his hot breaths. He moved closer still, his front crushing over mine.
Heat pooled in my core, the bastard turning me on, making my body ache with need and my nipples to pinch tight under my green and white baseball tee underneath my jacket. I took a shaky breath as my legs quivered.
“Quinn,” I warned.
“Talk to me,” he whispered as voices passed the other side of the door. “Tell me what I did.” His fingers toyed with the collar of my jacket that I’d zipped all the way up.
“You’re the one that had something else to say,” I fired back. “I don’t.” Not any more.
“Fine.” He tucked my hair behind my ear, then pressed his lips to my temple. “I care about how this affects you,” he murmured. “If I didn’t, wouldn’t I be giving Josh and Layton the details?”
I placed my hands on his chest to push him back, to be able to breathe, but he wouldn’t budge. “From everything you’ve told me, you’re not that kind of guy, so trying to use that lame-assed excuse is ridiculous.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh look, here come the apologies as usual,” I bit out. “You jumped to conclusions, Quinn, and took it way too far before I could even explain myself.”
“Then what—”
“The jacket I had on last night didn’t zip high enough to hide this fucking thing.” I unzipped my white jacket a little and pulled it to the side, revealing the dip between my neck and shoulder. “So, yeah, I left early so nobody would see it.”
His lips parted, and he blinked a few times while staring at the hickey he’d given me. He lifted his hand and touched it. “Does it hurt?”
I shook my head. “It just looks bad where it is,” I said, zipping up again. “It looks a lot like a bruise, and I didn’t want anybody to think you’d hurt me in any way.”
He flinched back. “You were thinking about me.”
I nodded. “Funny that, huh? Yet, you automatically assumed I was embarrassed for staying with you last night.” I shook my head again in disbelief. “I honestly don’t know why you’d think that, Quinn.”
He pressed his forehead against mine and cupped my face. “We’re not done, Kinny. Not yet, okay? I need more time.”
“How much more?” I swallowed hard, kicking myself for asking that.
His lips brushed over mine, barely there, his warmth entering my mouth. “Do we have to decide that right now?”
I couldn’t think straight, all conflict and backtalk gone from my mind. “No,” I breathed.
Wake up, Kinsley!
Quinn’s mouth closed over mine in a long, passi
onate kiss, his tongue delving inside as though he couldn’t get enough, sucking on my lower lip, licking it, then switching to the top. That’s how I felt, but there was no point in saying so. It was going to be over soon enough. I didn’t know when, but it was still inevitable.
My heart begged me to stop, to save it from the torture it was to endure, the breaking, shattering, and crumbling of every last piece. But with Quinn kissing me that way, I couldn’t.
I gripped his leather jacket, holding him to me instead of pushing him away like I’d done a minute before.
His hands lowered, and his fingers worked on unzipping me, slow and unhurried like we had all the time in the world inside the janitor’s closet.
Quinn’s scent took over, his potency more powerful than the smells of disinfectant, bleach, and paper towels. It was just him and me while he raked his hands over my body, taking my breasts in his cupped palms.
His hands slipped under my tee, my moans at our skin contact urging him on, his movements increasing. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered against my neck as he ran his nose along the side to my ear.
I lifted my leg and hooked it around his thigh as I slipped my hands under his top, tracing the solid lines of his abs and chest, then the prominent V. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
Quinn lifted his head. “Kinny, don’t assume what I do or don’t mean.” He lifted my shirt higher, then pulled down the cups of my white bra and squeezed my bare breasts, making me yelp with the sensations. Zings of electricity shot through me as he caught my tight peaks in his grip. “It wouldn’t work out well for anyone.” He stroked over my ass, back and forth over the curve, then up to my chest.
I couldn’t respond, my mouth was unable to form any words as he dipped low and sucked on a nipple, pulling it tight and biting down gently. I hissed at the sting, but the pulsating between my legs wanted more.
“Can you be quiet?” he asked, lifting his head but looking at what he was doing with his hands, his fingers all over me, stroking along the waistband of my leggings, then sliding down to tease my clit through the material. “Or is everybody in the building going to know what we’re doing in here?”
“Fuck!” I squeaked as he stroked between my legs, his other hand toying with my heavy breast, my entire body firing up. “I don’t know, I… Oh, fuck, Quinn…”
He chuckled against me. “Let’s see.”
He looked down to the wooden surface, furrowed his brow, then looked back to me. He leaned forward, taking my mouth again at the same time my leggings were pulled down.
I was ready for him, the cool temperature of the room freezing against my arousal, the wetness from my folds slick on the insides of my thighs.
My hands shot to his jeans, my fingers working quickly, desperate for what he was hiding but was so evident when it pressed into me. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, hard, hot, and ready.
Quinn groaned, his fingers digging into my thighs as I worked his dick. I leaned forward and kissed his throat, his Adam’s apple, then the hollow at the base. I darted my tongue out and ran it over his collar bone that was visible just above the round neck of his plain, forest-green T-shirt.
He opened his eyes then held my shoulders, turning me around. He pulled my hair back over my shoulder, giving him access to my neck. He pressed his soft lips there at the same time he nudged my legs apart. A second later, his tip was sliding over my entrance, teasing me, making me push back for him, my walls clenching thin air to take him inside me.
Without warning, he entered me in one thrust, taking my breath away.
“Shh,” he said into my ear, the tickle of his breath making my skin prickle. He nipped my earlobe. “I want this to be good for you.”
I dropped my head back to his shoulder, lifting my arm high and grasping the back of his neck, so I didn’t collapse in a pathetic heap of pre-orgasmic arousal. My legs were already shaking, and when he pulled back a little, my eyes crossed.
“You have to move, Quinn. I can’t take it.” I whispered, my breath catching. He reached around and found my clit, his fingers circling my hard bud. I lifted onto my toes, my muscles beginning to contract as pressure built deep in my core.
He pushed back in, and I sighed, my walls cheering for the delicious friction, Quinn’s cock filling me completely. He pulled back further and thrust quickly, repeating the movements, and I had to cover my mouth, my cries cutting off in my palm.
“Kinny.” Quinn’s voice was tight, but his hand working my nub was steady, pressing, circling, bringing me to the brink so fast I was about to blow. “Fuck, baby, I’m so fucking close.”
My core burned, my nipples tightened, and my pussy clenched down hard as warmth spread out through my entire body.
“Yes!” I squealed into my hand as I hurtled toward the edge. I dug my fingers into Quinn’s arm around my waist as he pounded into me from behind, his hips smacking against my ass every time. “Quinn, I’m coming.” I screwed my eyes shut, my orgasm erupting like a volcano, spreading its scorching heat over me.
“Ugh, fuck,” Quinn breathed, his voice strained. His arm tightened around me, and his body curled around mine, his cock thickening and pumping into me, his grunts getting lost into the fabric of my jacket where he’d muffled his own sounds of pleasure.
“Oh my God,” I sighed, my chest heaving and my heart hammering into my chest.
Quinn laughed into my shoulder. “I agree.” He kissed my neck as he withdrew from me, his seed sliding out with him.
Once we’d fixed ourselves, Quinn smoothed my hair back and kissed me again. “Please don’t ever say we’re done again, Kinny, okay? I didn’t fucking like it.” Something flashed in his eyes, a look I’d seen on him more and more, but I didn’t want to ask him about it. He worked his jaw as though holding back what he was about to say, and I waited, but nothing came.
“Then don’t give me a reason to,” I replied finally.
“I can’t promise that, but whatever happens, just don’t say that to me.” He pulled back and searched my face, my lips, my eyes… “Kinny.”
I nodded. “Okay, I won’t.”
He grinned. “Good. Now, we should go because it looks like we’ve been having sex in here.”
I swatted his arm. “No, really?” I gestured to the few hand towel packs that had fallen from the shelves where the table had knocked into them. “I wonder what gave that away.”
Quinn unlocked the door but didn’t open in. Instead, he cupped my face and tilted my head back. He gazed at me, searching, penetrating… “Do you have your helmet with you?”
“No—it’s at home.”
Quinn lightly pressed his forehead against mine. “We need to go and pick it up. I want to take you somewhere.” I nodded as much as I could but stopped when he kissed me one last time. “Thank you.”
Quinn
What the fuck was I doing?
Kinsley held onto me, her arms wrapped around my waist tightly, her body pressed against my back as I rode through the shitty streets near the outskirts of Broken Hollow. The further we got, the more boarded out stores we passed, showing how much of the small town had deteriorated over the years.
I rode down Chavene, and Kinsley’s grip on me tightened, and even more when we passed the spot I’d picked her up for the first time. I let go of one of the handlebars and gripped her hand over my stomach, squeezing a little before returning it.
A few minutes later, we pulled up at the entrance to Hollow Tree Cemetery. I pulled to a stop and cut the engine, then removed my helmet. Kinsley did the same, her long hair falling down, and she shook her head, making it flow back.
That’s an image I’m never going to forget.
I blinked fast. “We’re here,” I said, jerking my chin to the black iron gates, arched at the top underneath the twisted letters that formed the name.
“The cemetery?” she whispered. When I nodded, she slipped off the bike. “What are we doing here?”
“Visiting.” I got off th
e bike and pushed it through the arched entrance with Kinsley by my side. “It’s not far.”
Kinsley never said a word as we passed grave after grave, some extravagant sculptures from over a century ago, and the ones that were more recent, small and plain.
I pulled up to the spot I’d come to think of mine, the same place I always parked my bike, and years earlier when I’d left my bicycle.
We placed our helmets on the bike, and I took her hand, her warm fingers comforting me as they laced with mine, her palm fitting perfectly. Natural. Normal. Right.
“This is it,” I said once we stopped on the freshly mown grass of my mom’s resting place, where nobody could hurt her again.
“Your mom.”
I nodded. “This is Ellie Dexter,” I said, a small smile on my lips that went no further. I watched Kinsley for her reaction, her eyes fixed on the marble.
“She was so young,” she whispered, disappointment in her tone. She turned her head finally to look up at me. “Was she sick?”
“No.” I sat down, and she joined me, the acid churning inside of me churning away and rising up from my gut as I thought about what I was going to say, or what I might do afterward. I watched our joined hands, my other toying with the place her fingers interlocked with mine.
“She was twenty-six when she died,” I muttered. “I’d just turned eight. She was seventeen when she met my dad.” I stared at the fucker’s name on the stone, the one I wasn’t permitted to have removed because of the fucking church and their shitty rules. “They got married because she got pregnant. The biggest mistake she ever made.”
“Getting married?” she asked.
I faced her. “Pregnant.”
Kinsley’s mouth dropped open, her wide eyes horrified. “What?”
I shrugged. “If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have married that son-of-a-bitch, and she might still be alive.” My chest burned thinking about how my beautiful mother would’ve been living a great life, maybe with a family that loved her and treated her right. “If I was never born, she might still be here.” The rage I’d started to keep at bay rose to the surface, fire torching my muscles, telling them it was time to lash out, to hit, to hurt, to destroy…
