by Abby Knox
“Damn right you do,” Quinn agrees. His hand at my waist snakes upward, his fingers barely grazing the sides of my breasts before coming up to help me remove the apron from over my head and tossing it to the floor.
“I should really pick that up.”
But his whispers in my ear are suddenly so urgent it drowns me out. “No. You don’t just deserve me time. You need it. You have to have it. It’s long overdue and your whole body is ready. I can feel it. I could taste it on your pussy on Tuesday and it’s all I can think about.”
“Quinn,” is about all I can muster with a hasty whisper because my mouth has gone dry.
“It feels like forever since we’ve been alone. Will you let me taste you again, sweet girl?”
I can feel the dripping down below. The rush of heat to my core. The tightening of my muscles in anticipation. My nipples tightening, readying for his wicked mouth.
The exploration of his hands under my sweater, cupping my breast over my bra, has me wondering where his other hand is. I feel him adjust himself; I glance down behind my shoulder but I can’t see...it feels like Quinn is everywhere. He’s all I can see and hear and feel.
“Do you feel that? Do you feel what you do to me?” His rigid length presses into my soft ass cheek.
I don’t know what comes over me. Perhaps I’m emboldened from the way he’s talking. But I turn around in his arms and take hold of the goods.
“This? This is what I do to you?”
His hooded eyes explore my face. “I’ve been hard as a fucking rolling pin for days, thinking about what we shared. Thinking about tasting you. Wondering when I was going to get to taste that sugar again.”
I rub my hand over the hard bulge. “My, my. You do seem pretty pent up, Quinn.”
He claims my mouth with his in a wet kiss full of ragged breaths that speak of the aches we both feel for each other. “Baby, you have no idea. Your eyes, your sparkle, your hair, the way you smell, the way you laugh, the way you move that ass when you’re traipsing around the kitchen like a fucking queen. I want you all to myself. I can’t stand to not be near you, touching you, kissing you…tasting you.”
“What if I want a taste of you first?” I say.
His surprised laughter builds up my resolve to do what I’m about to do. “Mal…”
Quinn sucks in a breath when I unzip and palm the length of him. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said eight inches. I’ve rolled enough pastry dough in my life, I ought to know.
I move right into tugging down his pants and his boxers and pushing him to sit on the kitchen chair.
“Mal, what are you doing?” His words come out almost angry, but his eyes on me are full of wonder…and hunger.
“Saying thank you.”
I kneel down in front of him and take in the look and feel of this eight-inch rod. It’s wider than I expected. Now free of its confines, it stands straight up, dark pink, throbbing and veiny at the base, a glistening bead of precum at the tip. I take it in my hand and feel the tender skin yielding to my touch over the steely muscle underneath. Holding it against my cheek, it feels warm. Fingers stroke my hair and I look up, and Quinn is still looking at me with a kind of awe that touches my heart.
“I’m not an expert at this, so just tell me if I do it wrong,” I say, turning five more shades of red.
“Baby, there’s nothing you can mess up about this, and I’m about to explode.”
With that, I swirl my tongue over the tip, tasting his precum. He cusses softly, continuing to run his fingers through my hair.
I move up and down tentatively on his shaft, licking and savoring, enamored by the prominent vein underneath and paying special attention to it. His fingers in my hair start to tighten. I take him in deeper, deeper, until I have to open my throat a little. His cussing grows more frequent and a little louder, so I cup his balls in my hand while I keep going, taking in more than I thought possible, enjoying giving him pleasure more than I ever thought I would. Over and over I move him in and out of my mouth, my body growing steadily more heated at the idea of bringing him so much pleasure.
When he jets his release into my mouth, I take in all of it.
Quinn roars out a curse. I respond by swallowing all of his cum, and keep going until I have every last drop. The shuddering of his body, the noises he makes, the sweet words he calls me as he caresses my hair…all of it makes me understand the pleasures of giving head. I wanted him to feel good so badly, and succeeding in doing that for him makes me feel like I fucking own him.
“That’s my dick. All mine,” I whisper, placing kisses over his sweet, bare tummy.
The next thing I know Quinn is pulling me back to my feet to face him.
“You were wrong,” he says.
“About what?” I wonder, hoping against hope he doesn’t mean that I did it badly.
He smiles and gently kisses the tip of my nose. “About talent versus skill. You’ve got natural talent for making me feel amazing.”
Chapter Twelve
Quinn
“I think it’s about time we make love face to face.”
Normally I would assume I’d need a refractory period of a couple of hours. But my sugar, my Mal, still has me yearning for more.
I want to see all of her, taste every inch.
Look into her eyes while we hurdle this final barrier between us.
First, I help her undress, slowly.
To my surprise she holds her arms around her middle after we have her sweater removed.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I’ve never been fully naked in front of a man before.”
“Okay.”
“And I’m a little self-conscious about my size.”
“Would it help if I were a little closer? And kept my eyes on your eyes while you undress the rest of the way by yourself?”
She bites her lip and nods.
“No,” I tease. “That’s my lip to bite.”
Both of us laughing, I nibble on her plump bottom lip.
“Hmm, delicious,” I say, keeping my eyes right on hers. She makes quick work of getting rid of the rest of her clothes.
There’s the broad smile again that I love. “We’re both naked,” she observes.
“You okay with that?”
She runs her hands over my chest, heating me up, making me ache for her to be rougher with me.
“Yes,” she says, pressing her delicate lips over one nipple. Her kisses and touches over my chest and abdomen are somehow ten times more powerful than her mouth on my cock.
“Why me?” she says.
I don't think I’ve heard her correctly. “Why what?”
“Why me? Why did you pick me?”
I touch my thumb to her chin. “I didn’t pick you. We were brought together by a runaway grocery cart.”
She laughs and I drive a deep, searing kiss onto her mouth to let her know that she and I together is not an accident.
“My grocery cart knew what it was doing. It picked the kindest…” I pepper her face with kisses with every attribute I list off. To her forehead, the tip of her nose, to each eyelid, her jawline and finally her lips. “…sweetest, most talented, funniest, sexiest and most beautiful woman in all of aisle seven.”
She snorts and slaps my soft tummy. “Shut up.”
“I mean the whole store.”
Mal tweaks my nipple and I squeak in pain. It’s not very manly. “Did I say store? I meant the whole entire world.”
“Thank you,” she says. “But I’m not. Some people think I’m just an unoriginal fat lady.”
The fire inside me explodes and I grip her face in my hands. “Listen to me. Stop that right now. No woman of mine is going to talk about herself that way and neither is she going to let anyone plant those thoughts in her head. You got that?”
She nods, and just to underline my point, I hoist her up in my arms, and set her down on the bed like a delicate flower.
“Now lie back and let me worship you.”
<
br /> I speak soft words of praise and adoration while I kiss her face, her lips, her ears, her cheekbones.
I savor her neck, lose myself in the softness of her breasts, marvel at the smoothness of her strong legs, then finally wrap each one around my middle and gently nudge her warm pussy with my cock.
Mal urges me onward. I push in slightly, stretching her as I go.
“You’re so big, you feel so big I don’t know if…,” she trails off with ragged breaths.
“We can stop,” I offer.
She shakes her head no.
I smile. “Kiss me some more and I’ll talk real nice and dirty. It’ll help.”
With a whimper she owns my mouth. Our tongues grapple. Her moans stoke the desire within me.
“Talk to me,” she says.
I reach my hand down and swipe her clit with the pad of my thumb. Her body jerks, her pussy drips. I slide in slightly deeper. “My sweetheart’s pussy wants me, doesn’t it?” I whisper my words close to her neck, and her body shivers.
“Mm-hmm,” she says, her muscles squeezing my shaft.
I keep up the whispering as I kiss across her chest, warming her skin with my breath. “That pussy’s mine. All mine now. Nobody touches it but me. Do you get it?”
“Yes, Quinn.”
“Say ‘yes, it’s all yours.’”
“My pussy is all yours, Quinn.” Her voices drops from a high whimper to low and husky. “Talk to me as dirty as you want, the dirtier the better, I want it. I want it so bad.”
I kiss her mouth again and give her a wicked smile. “Is your pussy ready for this big cock? Almost? Fucking hell, you have no idea how good it feels to know I’m the one stretching you out. Getting you ready. You like it when I push your buttons, don’t you?” I give her clit two, three, four more swipes. She moans, biting her lip.
“Nuh-uh, I told you that’s my lip to bite. Give it to me.”
I kiss her again, nibbling her lip, gently, torturously massaging her clit, pushing my shaft in slightly deeper.
Then I take a risk and whisper in her ear, “That sugary sweet cunt of yours is ready for me now, isn’t it, my love?”
Mal’s eyes flash. With the faintest smile creeping across her flushed face, I feel her wetness dripping at my filthy words. Her legs clamp around me and pull me closer, and I drive all the way in, all the way to the hilt.
We move together on the bed as one; we’re so in sync it feels like we’re one creature. Nothing else matters. Not time or consequences or responsibilities.
“Deeper, I need to be deeper. I want every inch of you against every inch of me.”
Mal arches her back and presses closer to me. I move one arm under her ass and grip her to me, so only her shoulders and upper back are touching the mattress. Our bodies thrusting in time together, it feels like the rest of the universe disappears. I’m in as deep as I can go but I need more. Her muscles grip me tighter with each exquisite slide out and in, but something is still missing.
“I love you, Mallory.” That’s it. That’s the only thing that was missing.
It’s a huge step, I know. Maybe not fair to say it while I’m buried inside her. But I feel it so fully I had to.
“I love you too, Quinn,” she breathes, her hands cupping my face.
With another swipe of her clit, her orgasm tears through her, and I release for the second time in one night, shocking myself. I barely recognize myself with this woman.
It’s because I’ve taken leaps and bounds since the moment I met her. Leaps of friendship, leaps of joy, and finally, one final leap into love.
The early Friday morning delivery of donuts, cinnamon buns and a whole slew of other pastries is greeted with great enthusiasm from the work crew at school.
The foreman peels off a stack of bills and hands them over to Mal, who counts them. “This is too much. This is double what I normally charge for this amount of food.”
“It’s a fundraiser, right?”
She cocks her head. “How did you know that?”
“I overheard,” says the foreman. “I used to write a good bit of fiction back in my day. Still do, sometimes. Sounds like a cool trip.”
“Thank you,” I say, dumbfounded.
“Don’t mention it,” he says, looking back at his crew and counting heads. “You got a lunch truck? Cause I guarantee my guys would go apeshit over a lunch truck.”
Mal replies, those wheels turning again. God, I am so desperately head over heels in love with this woman. “I don't, but I can sell lunch boxes as long as I have permission from Ms. Moody.”
He nods and returns to his crew to brief them on the tasks ahead for the day.
I turn to Mal to kiss her goodbye for now as I plan to get to my office early to prepare for class.
Just then we’re interrupted with a subtle clearing of the throat.
Ms. Moody is standing a few feet away, wringing her hands and looking very apologetic.
“Headmistress Moody! Good morning,” I say.
She skips the small talk and gets right to the point. “I’m afraid I owe you two an enormous apology. It seems that we’ve…had someone interfering with our online scheduling system. This is why we’ve had so many misunderstandings. And it’s not just you. I have been pulling my hair out thinking I’ve been losing my mind, entering in the wrong dates into the system, the system that notifies everyone by text and email. I checked my paper planner against the software and there were too many discrepancies to be just mistakes on my part. So I had our IT department look into it. Turns out, a student has been accessing the administrative portal for the school intranet.”
“What?” I ask. “Who would do that, and why?”
Moody ignores my question. “That student has been expelled.”
Mal and I are too stunned to speak. We look at each other wide-eyed. “Oh my god. I think I know exactly who it is,” Mal says, her hands going to her face in a shocked expression. “The little phenom Corbin has been doing Meredith’s bidding.”
“The crazy PTA lady? What the hell?” I blurt out.
Embarrassed at my language, I turn back to Moody.
She lifts one eyebrow. “What the hell indeed. We learned that someone at the IP address of the Browns’ home has been infiltrating our intranet here at the school. When we questioned Corbin Brown, he said it was at the request of his mother, Meredith Brown.”
Mal breathes, “My neighbors. But why?”
Moody shakes her head. “We’re still trying to figure that out. But Corbin tells us his mother offered him a new car if he helped her sabotage this bake sale. Meredith Brown has been removed as an officeholder with the PTA.”
Mal grips my arm and looks over at me with haunted eyes. “She wanted you for herself. She said as much before I even met you. She’s upset that we’re together.”
Both of us turn back to Moody and I feel compelled to apologize. “I never meant my presence to cause this much drama in the PTA and end up getting a kid expelled. I feel terrible.”
Moody puffs out a laugh. “Mr. Pope, you may be the talk of all the single parents and teachers of this school at the moment, but don’t let it go to your head. Meredith Brown has been causing drama for ages.”
I hear Mal snort and when I look down at her, she’s covering her mouth. “Don’t worry, honey, you are totally good looking enough to start a war, in my opinion.”
Moody continues in her business-like fashion. “So now, as an apology, I would like to give you the opportunity to do your fundraising at the lunch hour. If you wish, we can arrange for a trolley to go to classrooms so students and staff can buy your items.”
“Well,” says Mal. “I was thinking even bigger. How about I come back with packed lunches to sell out of the delivery van? Sort of like a lunch truck, until I’m able to purchase an actual one.”
“You’re buying a lunch truck?” I ask, giving her a squeeze.
Moody casts her eyes upward to the sky in thought for a second. “It’s a deal. As long as yo
u have the proper permits, I don’t see why not. Good luck with your bake sale, Mr. Pope.”
When Moody leaves, I kiss Mal goodbye for the second time this morning. “This is a lot of work. You need employees.”
She shrugs. “Maybe someday. But not yet. It is just a bake sale, after all. And I am the queen of them.”
“Correction. You are my queen of everything.”
Epilogue
Three years later
Mal
“The desert sunrise reflected on my queen’s sleeping face is more beautiful than any sunrise I’ve ever seen.”
I blink against the bright sunlight streaming into the tent. My husband’s loving words make this kind of vacation more tolerable.
“Sweet talker,” I say.
He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead. “I knew I’d get you to sleep with me under the desert sky sooner or later.”
Camping is a relative term. It’s actually a huge tricked-out tent with a real bed and an area rug.
“I can’t believe you got me to sleep in a tent,” I say, sniffing the air but not detecting any musty odor so far.
After three years together, Quinn still looks at me like I’m royalty, and still showers me with praise. Writes me sweet notes, stories, poems and songs. I keep trying to get him to publish his stories and poems he writes for me, but he insists they’re just for me.
And I still get the butterflies in my tummy when I look at him.
I’m tempted to reach for my phone and check on Shelby, who is a thousand miles away at field hockey camp this week. No, she’s fine, I tell myself. My little bird is spreading her wings and making friends. And when she starts her senior year at Greenbridge this fall, she’ll be team captain and the smartest little chick in the school.
Then I have a passing thought to check on my staff. Over the last three years I’ve been able to hire 14 employees and buy four lunch trucks. I’ve worked really hard, and with Quinn’s support, we’ve amassed quite a comfortable life. We’re not Rushmores and never will be, but enough that I can take a month off to achieve this dream of exploring Route 66 with the man of my dreams.
