by Tara Sivec
“I want to see where this could go when you stop pretending like you don’t want this to be real.”
I deserve to have a man fighting about glitter in my home too. And I deserve to be with a guy who makes me deliriously happy. I don’t know if I’ll get the white picket fence and the happily ever after, but I deserve to try, dammit. And I deserve to try with a man who attempted to hunt me down for weeks, sounding like a prank-calling loser, and has done everything he can to be around me ever since he found me again.
“Go get yourself that orgasm, bitch.” Birdie nods once everyone has finally quieted down.
“If he wants to keep fucking me like he did in that locker room, I’ll let him burn my entire life to the ground.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Tess smiles, giving me a high-five.
I clink my slush cup with everyone else’s while I let them shoot rapid-fire ideas at me about what I should do to apologize to Quinn for letting him walk away from me the other night and for not trusting what he said to me.
I know I’m worth it. I still can’t stop that tiny little bit of nagging doubt in the back of my head that says Quinn still doesn’t need the distraction and I’m going to make his life more chaotic when he’s finally playing for a team that makes him happy.
I push all those thoughts aside for now and just think about how much fun it will be to keep playing these games with Quinn, but for real this time.
Because he really likes me, and I really like him, and I was an idiot for letting him walk away from me.
Sip and Bitch really does fix everything.
CHAPTER 21
Emily
“This is real.”
When Quinn doesn’t answer my knocks on his door, I get a little nervous he might be asleep and that it was a really, really stupid idea to come over this late. Until I glance into the window next to the door as I start to walk past it and can see through the dark living room to the open sliding glass doors that lead out onto the back deck, where a softly flickering fire glows in the fire pit.
With another deep breath of courage and a quick glance around the neighborhood, I’m thankful it’s after eleven, dark, and no one is outside who can see me—or what I’m wearing. I quickly make my way around the side of the cottage, to the back deck in the sand right on the beach, my feet stuttering to a stop when they get to the base of the stairs.
Quinn lounges back on a folding chair a few feet away, wearing a pair of athletic shorts, with his bare feet crossed at the ankles and perched up on the deck railing in front of him. His short black hair is damp from a recent shower, and he’s got his phone in his hands in his lap, the glow from the screen lighting up his face as he stares down at it, completely mesmerized by something on it. While I’m completely mesmerized by the sight of him.
And I can’t help but laugh softly to myself when I see he’s wearing a red, lightweight Sharks practice jersey. I feel a little better about the clothing choice Tess was so adamant about me wearing and just how perfect this actually is right now, even if it is a little ridiculous.
Kicking my flip-flops off in the sand and pressing my hand against my bare stomach to try to calm the butterflies, I quietly move around in front of the stairs and right up to the deck, setting my arms on one of the wooden slats at chest level and then resting my chin on top of them.
The smile on my face hurts my cheeks when the closer proximity to Quinn, and the way he has his phone angled, lets me see what has him so fascinated that he just keeps playing it over and over again. After the double slush Shepherd made that gave me some liquid courage, Wren dared me to send Quinn a video. She wanted me to send him something naked, but there was no way in hell that was happening. So, I gave him what he asked for in the locker room. I leaned to the side using Wren’s basement wall for support and pulled my leg straight over my head like I didn’t have any bones—which I’ll be paying for tomorrow—followed by a pirouette, adding in a back bend for the hell of it and, because I was buzzed, shaking my ass a little when I popped back up.
“You creeping on my videos again, QB?” I ask softly.
My voice makes him jump a little in his chair, and it smacks to the deck on all four legs instead of the two he was rocking back on.
His eyes are bright from the softly flickering flames of the fire as he looks over at me, where I’m mostly hidden behind the slats of his deck, but his lips remain in a thin line, and he doesn’t say anything to my sassy comment as he stares at me. His annoyance with me in the concession stand the other night when I called him by his initials as he had his hand down my pants makes my body heat with guilt, as well as the need to feel his hands on me again, when I realize I really haven’t called him by his name through all of this. Ever.
At least not when I wasn’t in the throes of an orgasm.
That thought makes my heart clench, knowing I really was trying to keep him at a distance…. trying and failing to keep my heart out of it.
Pulling back from the deck slats, I walk around to the base of the stairs again, grabbing onto the railing as I slowly make my way up them. A little bit of my nerves drop away when I finally come into full view at the top of the stairs, the glow from the fire helping out with that, as Quinn’s feet drop down from the deck railing with a loud thunk as they hit the wood.
“Sweet Christ.” His words come out on a whispered breath, and his phone slips from his hands and clatters to the deck, his eyes now mesmerized by the real me instead of the video I sent him.
“We’re not at a football stadium, but do you still want to do dirty things with the captain of the cheer squad?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips and jutting one out, some of my happiness right now stemming from the fact that I could still fit my ass and my boobs into my college cheerleading uniform.
“That video you sent was exceptionally hot, but this…” His eyes trail over my body in the white, skin-tight skirt with a thick red stripe across the bottom hem that sits low on my hips and barely covers my ass cheeks, and the white, cropped tankini-style uniform top with the same thick red stripe. It shows off my entire torso and just barely covers my boobs. “This is what football dreams are made of. I think I might be having a stroke.”
I laugh softly, my feet finally remembering how to move as I drop my hands from my hips and walk across the deck, the last of the sand falling off my feet and crunching under them as I go until I’m standing right in between Quinn’s spread legs and bent knees. He immediately leans forward and grabs my hips, making me let out a little squeal as he quickly turns me and then yanks me down to sit sideways on one of his powerful thighs. My knees are bent and legs together in between his, one of my arms thrown over his shoulder as I lean into him. Keeping his eyes locked on mine with our faces a few inches apart, Quinn wraps one arm securely around my back to hold me against his chest, and the other one is draped across my bare thighs.
“Can I just say again—that video was exceptionally hot. Care to do it again right here, so I can witness it live and in person?” he asks, the sparkle still in his eyes and the dimples now popping in his cheeks.
He has every right to be annoyed with me, but he isn’t, and that makes guilt stab into me like sharp knives all over again. I let him walk away from me after he poured his heart out, and I kept him waiting for two days. If he did that to me and then just showed up at my house, the cops would probably have to be called.
I was such an idiot.
“That video took an hour of stretching and two boozy slushes before it could be completed. I’m out of shape.” I laugh, resting my free hand against his hard, warm chest, reveling in the feel of his quickly beating heart under my palm.
“You don’t want to get back out there and audition for another team?” he asks softly, the tips of his fingers tracing small circles on my thigh where his hand is draped.
The crackling of the fire right behind us and the crashing of the ocean waves not too far off the deck sets the perfect ambiance for this quiet confession out under
the stars.
“Definitely not. I did my time, and it was a blast, even though it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. But I can’t put my body through that all day, every day anymore.” I shrug in his arms, wanting to bury my face in his chest and breathe in the fresh, clean smell of him. “I still want to dance, and I still want to have some sort of involvement in cheerleading. I’d much rather be a coach at this point. I want to lead, be supportive, share my experience, and make things better for the future generations of the sport.”
“You deserve to fucking shine,” Quinn says quietly, the conviction in his voice the same as it was that night at my parents’ house when he said those same words to me.
“I know. But I’m okay shining from the sidelines now,” I tell him honestly, pausing for a few minutes to take some calming breaths before I continue. “You know, you forgot something in that speech you made in the concession stand the other night.”
Quinn raises an eyebrow at me, an amused grin on his face as he stops tracing circles on my thigh to rest his heavy palm on my inner thigh of the leg closest to him. Making me have to swallow a few times and really focus on Quinn’s face and what I’m supposed to be saying to him.
“What exactly did I forget to say to you, beautiful?” he asks, my hand against his chest curling into a fist and clinging to his shirt when he calls me that.
“You didn’t dare me,” I tell him, the corner of my own mouth curling up into a grin when laughter shakes his body, and mine along with it held securely in his arms.
“Honestly? I didn’t think it was something you actually wanted to do,” he finally says, all traces of humor gone from his face as he looks at me, my throat getting tight with emotion, his thumb brushing back and forth over the top of my thigh, making me shiver.
“I do really like you, Quinn,” I speak softly, a low groan rumbling in his chest, his eyes darkening as he looks at me, his arm tightening around my body, and his hand tensing into a tighter grip on my inner thigh as soon as I say his name. “I’ve really liked you for an embarrassingly long time. But you’re right. I’m scared, and that’s not something I’m used to. I’m not afraid of anything, and you scare the hell out of me. Because you deserve to fucking shine too, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. I don’t want to distract you, or take away your focus, or mess anything up with—”
My words are cut off when Quinn moves his head forward and presses his lips to mine. My fist grips his shirt tighter, tugging him closer, when he kisses me soft and sweet and with a gentle slide of his tongue through my mouth. It makes me squirm on his lap, feeling him hot and hard poking into my hip, until he ends the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at me.
“Say my name again,” he whispers with a smile.
“Be serious.”
“I am being serious. I just want to hear you say it again when I’m not balls-deep inside you.”
The memory those words illicit make me instantly wet and an ache pulse between my legs as Quinn’s hand on my thigh inches higher before stopping, still brushing his thumb back and forth on top of my leg, teasing me, like he knows exactly what those words did to me.
With a laugh as I try to regulate my breathing and remember we’re supposed to be having a serious discussion, I move my mouth to his ear and whisper, “Quinn, be fucking serious.”
Even through his laughter at my whispered words, he lets out a satisfied groan and nuzzles his face into the side of my neck when I say his name again, warming everything inside me. Along with his hand that has inched up even more between my thighs, stopping just shy of touching me and finding out I’m not wearing anything under this cheerleading skirt.
“I will always be serious when it comes to talking about how I feel about you. And you will always fucking amaze me that you think of everyone else and their happiness before your own. You are the best kind of distraction I’ve ever had in my life,” Quinn tells me, pulling back to meet my eyes. “Please, just trust me, Emily. I never would have approached you or started anything with you if I knew I didn’t have the time to be with you, or if it was going to do anything to the focus on my game. You’ve only made it better. You’ve only made me want to be better, and play better, and make you proud.”
He says something similar to what Shepherd said to me earlier in his basement, and once again, I’m annoyed with myself for wasting two days worrying over nothing.
“I do trust you,” I reassure him, leaning forward and giving him a soft, quick kiss before I pull back again, my breath hitching in my throat when Quinn’s fingers inch a little closer, wondering if he can feel the heat that’s surely radiating out of me from how close he is to soothing this ache he left me with two days ago.
“Good. Let’s see what happens when a ridiculously hot and talented quarterback gets serious with a ridiculously hot and talented cheerleader. I see nothing but good things ahead for us.” Quinn winks at me, making me shake my head at him with a laugh, even though my body is about ready to go up in flames.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You really like my ridiculousness,” he fires back with a smirk.
“It seems I do.”
Quinn leans forward and kisses me again. Soft, slow, and sweet, but it doesn’t last that way long. Two days away from him felt like an eternity, especially when I let him walk away from me, when he’d been thirty seconds away from giving me an orgasm with his magical fingers. Not only have I been on edge worrying about Quinn being mad at me, but I’ve also been on edge from a denied orgasm.
Within seconds, the kiss has grown hungry and desperate. I’ve turned more in Quinn’s lap until my chest is smashed up against his, and my hand is fisting his shirt so tightly my knuckles are starting to hurt. The force of my kiss and how desperately I’m clinging to him finally gives Quinn the green light to cross the finish line, his hand sliding the last few inches up until his fingers come in contact with my wet, bare skin.
Quinn immediately jerks his mouth away from mine with a groan, and I cling to him tighter, the feel of him thick and hard through his shorts pressing into my side, and the soft brush of his fingertips as they teasingly sweep through my wet folds making me see stars.
“Oops,” I mutter, panting as he drops his forehead to mine. “I think I forgot to wear my spanky pants.”
The teasing laugh that comes out of me is cut off with a choked moan, my thighs immediately opening wider on Quinn’s lap, when he slides one of his long, thick fingers inside me.
“Oh God, Quinn,” I pant, my arm around his shoulders tightening, my fingernails digging into his back.
“Again,” he orders gruffly, the slow pull of his finger back out of me making me let out a choked whimper, before I do what he asks.
“Quinn… Quinn, Quinn, Quinn,” I chant softly until I can’t speak any longer when he uses my wetness to circle my clit twice with a featherlight touch, before sinking his finger right back into me again. Pumping in and out with shallow thrusts, he lifts his chin and gently presses his lips to mine before moving away again.
“I feel the need to tell you something before we go any further,” Quinn says hoarsely, my breath coming out faster when he says the same words I said to him in the locker room. I immediately start remembering everything he did to me in that room, his long finger moving so achingly slow in and out of me, the complete opposite of how frantic and hard his cock slammed into me that night, making my need for him climb to new heights as I squirm in his lap, desperate for more. “Walking away from you the other night, knowing I left without giving you any relief, did not make me feel good about myself.”
I whimper when Quinn’s thumb joins in, brushing back and forth over my swollen clit with each slow push of his finger into me, my hips churning against his hand as I squeeze my eyes closed.
He moves his head away from mine to kiss his way across my cheek until his mouth gets to my ear, his thumb moving in tight circles around my clit, while his finger remains deep inside me.
“Did you touch yourself after I left you? Make yourself come with your pretty fingers?” Quinn whispers in my ear, his words making me whimper his name, and my hips move jerkily against him as his arm tightens around my back, holding me closer.
All I can do is shake my head against his mouth still pressed against my ear, listening to his labored breathing each time I moan his name, begging for more.
“Good girl,” Quinn says, kissing the side of my neck as he drags his finger out of me, bringing it up to circle my clit a few times before plunging it back inside me with a second one this time, stretching me wider, making curses and nonsense fly out of my mouth. His thumb quickly circles my clit again, the release I was denied a couple of nights ago working its way back up my body, teetering just on the edge, building, and pulsing, and aching so much it almost makes me want to cry. “If we’re going to do this, you always come first. End of story. I’m not going to be able to focus again until I feel you coming on my fingers and I know I finished what I started the other night. Give me what I need, Emily.”
The whole point of me showing up in this cheerleading uniform was supposed to be so I could seduce him. But with the guttural way Quinn says my name, and when his mouth captures mine in a searing kiss, with his fingers pulling out of me to move the wet pads of them quickly back and forth over my clit, he definitely won this seduction game. I give him exactly what he needs, coming on his fingers, as he expertly moves them between my body. Wave after wave of pleasure washes through me as I rock against his hand, moaning into his mouth as he swallows my cries with his kiss.
The orgasm does nothing to calm my need for him. If anything, it just makes me want him even more. As soon as Quinn’s hand moves out from between my thighs, we’re just a blur of frantically moving limbs as I scramble to straddle him, hiking my skirt up until it’s around my hips, our lips only parting long enough for him to rip his shirt off and toss it to the deck and then practically growl at me that the cheerleading uniform stays on.
