“It isn’t that simple,” he murmured.
“Why not?” She knew that she was being unreasonable. Nobody could possibly give her an answer that would satisfy her. There wasn’t one. “I just wished that I understood what was happening between you and me,” she whispered.
He seemed to rouse himself. He shifted on the floor. He was wearing a pair of athletic pants and a T-shirt. Both were in dark colors. She didn’t think she had ever seen him in anything else—unless she counted the tuxedo. He was a very basic man and completely unlike any other male that had inhabited her world. It truly begged the question of whether or not they could get along.
Ugh! Why was she even worrying about this right now? “My life is so messed up,” she whispered. “I’m sitting here wondering if there is any chance for a long-term relationship with you, and I don’t even know if I could offer that because of Stedman and everything else going on.”
He reached up and took her hand in his. Very gently touching her fingertips, he lifted them to his lips and began kissing her hand. The sensation traveled like quicksilver from her fingertips to her toes. A dull ache took up residence low in her belly, and she felt as though she needed something more.
“I don’t know what we can offer each other beyond tonight.” His murmur resonated against her hand and sent shivers through her body. “But for now, I have to admit that it doesn’t matter, Francesca. I want you. I want to be inside you. I want to feel you come around my cock. I need you. And I’m not willing to worry about a bunch of things I can’t control if that means I don’t get to have you right here and right now.”
Right here? In the living room, in front of the fire? The whole concept was so erotic that she felt herself longing to scream out the word YES. She had never been adventurous. She had never been the girl in school who had made out with boys behind the gym or under the bleachers. She was boring and sedate. She was the quintessential good girl. But right now, this incredibly handsome man wanted her and he didn’t care what it took to get what he wanted.
Scrumptious.
QUENTIN’S COCK WAS so hard that he was almost certain he was going to be doubled over in pain in minutes if he didn’t find a way to get inside Francesca’s hot little body. With that in mind, he tugged a throw off the corner of her ottoman and spread it atop the thick Persian rug that sat on the floor in front of the fire.
There was something about making love to a woman in front of a crackling fire that appealed to the caveman inside him. With that in mind, he took Francesca’s hand and tugged her down off of her overstuffed chair and into his lap.
She was so tiny and so perfect. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her sweet lips. She tasted divine. Gently running his tongue along the seam of her mouth, he waited for her to part her lips. When she finally sighed and opened her mouth, he pushed his tongue inside. He let it rub alongside hers until the sexy sensation left him almost unable to breathe.
Pulling back from her lips, he kissed his way down over her jawline and toward her neck. He nibbled the sensitive skin and enjoyed the quick inhale of her breath. She tilted her head to the side to give him better access, and he used his hands and fingers to gently knead the muscles in her shoulders and neck. She was so tiny compared to him. It felt as though one wrong move could shatter her birdlike bones, and yet he knew that she was made of much stronger stuff than anyone ever gave her credit for.
He palmed her breasts and felt her nipples harden beneath the soft cotton fabric of her shirt. Gently drawing the garment over her head, he gazed at the perfection of her soft skin. Her breasts were lightly bouncing with each breath she took. He put his face against her chest and lightly kissed each mound of softness.
Reaching behind her, he unfastened the clasp of her bra and released her breasts. She scooted the straps down her arms so that she could remove the bra. Quentin was too busy sucking and licking her nipples to notice. He used the flat of his tongue to tease just before he closed his teeth lightly around her sensitive skin.
Francesca made tiny mewling noises in her throat and stabbed her fingers through his hair. Then he felt her hands tugging at his shirt. He pulled back just enough to let her get his T-shirt off over his head. Then he was struggling to shove his pants down his legs and get his underwear off without appearing as desperate as he really was.
Finally, it did not matter. He got rid of the clothing and managed to remove her soft cotton pajama pants as well. The two of them were naked on a throw in front of that fire, and it felt amazing.
Quentin covered Francesca with his body. He reveled in the sensations of having her skin against his. He loved the way it felt when she moved. Her hands were everywhere. They traced the lines and grooves of his stomach muscles and then gently scored his shoulders with her nails. She was writhing and undulating beneath him, and Quentin knew exactly what she needed.
He put one knee between her legs. Her thighs clamped closed around his knee. He felt the heat of her pussy against his leg. How he wanted that around his cock! He spread her apart and positioned his body between her legs. Her belly was taut and flat beneath him. His cock was so hard. It felt as though the thing had a mind of its own. It was reaching for Francesca. The tip of his erection pressed against the opening of her body. Her cream soon covered every inch of his cock.
Pushing forward, Quentin penetrated Francesca in one very long, smooth stroke. Once he was fully sheathed in her hot body, he forced himself to remain still. He needed time to adjust. And yet when she began to move her hips and to rock against him, he could not hold back. She lifted one leg and gently stroked the back of his thigh with her calf muscle. The contact was enough to push him past his limits of control.
Quentin’s thrusts became hard and almost frenzied. He shoved his hips against Francesca and felt his cock kiss the very end of her channel. She gasped and begged for more. The pretty sounds she made only served to drive him higher. He loved the way she felt. He loved being inside of her. And when he felt the tightness in his lower back that told him orgasm was coming fast, the only thought in his head was that he wanted her to come too.
Gently putting his hand between their bodies, he found the place where they were joined. He felt the root of his cock as each stroke sent it pushing deeper into Francesca’s body. Then he found her clit. The swollen nub was practically throbbing with the friction and heat. Quentin used his index finger to circle the little nub. He focused on the slow, rhythmic stimulation that would drive her over the edge.
Moments later, she did not disappoint. Just as Quentin was certain he had lost the ability to hold back, he felt Francesca tighten all around him. The tension left him nearly unable to move his cock inside her. She was clenched so tightly around his shaft that there was nothing else in that moment but the incredible woman in his arms.
“Quentin!” she cried out. “I’m—I’m—Coming!”
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
He had no sooner murmured the words then he felt her come all around him. Her inner muscles bore down on his shaft. She grew wetter and hotter. And the whimpering coming from her sweet lips was all it took to take him with her.
Quentin thrust hard and strained against her body as he poured his semen inside her. He gave her everything that he had until there was nothing left, and he knew that he was about to collapse.
He managed to roll to one side as his arms gave way and his body slammed down onto the floor. Francesca was giggling, but the sound was so lighthearted that he couldn’t even muster up the energy to ask if she was laughing at him or not. And somehow right now, it just didn’t matter.
Chapter Eighteen
Francesca stretched in the bed and rolled over. The numbers on the clock read seven thirty. It was early for her, and yet she felt as though her brain was wide awake and clearer than it had ever been before. She felt her leg brush up against Quentin’s naked backside and smiled. Sleeping with Quentin was an experience that she wished she could repeat over and over again.
Francesca had
never shared a bed with Lyle. From the very beginning of their marriage, they had maintained separate rooms. In the beginning, this had hurt her feelings. After a few years, she had realized that she didn’t want the intimacy of shared space during the night. She did not trust Lyle enough to let down her guard enough to sleep around him. The man had not been as overtly mean and manipulating as his older brother, Stedman, but Lyle had been a master at manipulating her emotions and making her feel bad about herself without her even realizing what he was up to.
“Hey.”
Quentin’s scratchy voice brought a grin to Francesca’s face. “Hey.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Lyle,” she said without hesitation. “I was thinking about how different it is to be with you. Not just to sleep with you”—she felt her cheeks heat up—“both kinds of sleeping, I guess. Everything is different.”
“How so?” He put an arm around her body and pulled her closer to him. Then he rested his chin atop her head. “Good, I hope.”
“All of it is good, but in different ways.” Francesca thought about her life before Quentin and this whole mess with Stedman. “I used to go through each and every day in a sort of haze. Everything was always the same. Ava would call and make me go out with her. We’d go shopping or go to brunch or dinner or something, but I was still in a kind of half-existence. Do you know what I mean?”
He was silent for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he sucked in a huge breath and let it out slowly. “When I first got out of the marines, I was angry. I hadn’t wanted to leave my unit, but the psych eval after my last tour of duty in Afghanistan said that I was unfit for duty because my PTSD symptoms fell above a certain threshold that nobody could explain to me.”
“That must have hurt,” she whispered. She didn’t know him nearly as well as she would like to, but she knew that he was a man who valued his duty very seriously. “What did you do?”
“They had a parade for me when I got home.” His bitter snort of laughter told her more than his words did. “They called me a war hero and then expected me to just be the same as I was before I had left.”
There was a long pause. Francesca began absently stroking her fingers over his chest. She loved the feel of the sparse, short hairs. His skin wasn’t as soft and fragile as hers. There was an elasticity and strength there that only served to magnify the incredibly musculature beneath.
“The only people that seemed to understand were the old guys down at the VFW. There were a few of them who had been through Vietnam and Korea. They knew what was happening, and one of the older members talked to me pretty openly about what PTSD could do and how to get a grip on what I was feeling. Sometimes, I thought it was just nice to have someone tell me that I was ‘normal.’ Everyone had been telling me that I needed to get over things and just pick up my life. They said that the symptoms would go away or lessen if I just tried to get back to work and forget what had happened.”
“Why would you forget?” she murmured. “I heard that a lot too.” She recalled the very first time she went to therapy. “Josie was the first person to tell me that I didn’t need to forget. She told me that working through the memories was the best way to unpack them and put them to rest. She had this analogy about luggage. How you open the suitcase and just unpack the first item that you see at the top.”
He stroked his fingers through her tangled hair. It felt good. “That’s a very appropriate analogy. I think if someone had tried to explain it like that to me, it would have made more sense.”
“We all have baggage,” she reasoned. “When I heard you talk about the things that you must have done and things you must have seen over there, I feel silly and insignificant for being whiny and angsty about what I went through with Lyle.”
“But none of your memories are less painful or less important than mine,” he argued. “I need you to understand that. I was not trying to minimize your symptoms or the memories and triggers that cause them. I just wanted you to know that I understand.”
Francesca placed herself as close to his front as possible. She stretched her legs against his and felt her belly press up to his. Her breasts were smashed against his chest, and she buried her face against those crisp hairs. The scent of him was so reassuring. She loved being this way with him. She loved how unrestrained and safe she felt. It was the most “normal” that she had felt in a very long time.
QUENTIN FELT HIS body responding to Francesca’s nearness. But he didn’t want to focus on that. It wasn’t about him getting off, and it had nothing to do with his erection or the need for her that he had almost decided was never going to be satisfied.
“I want to touch you,” he whispered against her ear. “I love the way my hands feel on your body. Can I touch you, Francesca?”
“Please.”
The tiny word sound like a prayer on her lips, and he took that to mean that she welcomed his touch. That meant more than anything else. They had gotten off to a rocky start in many ways. This morning, he wanted badly to know that none of that mattered.
Quentin carefully ran his hands over her skin. He began on her belly and carefully traced his way up through the valley of her breasts toward her shoulders. She was lying on her side. That mean he felt the rounded side of one breast pressing on his hand as he gently moved past it. Her taut nipple brushed his wrist. The contact burned like a brand, but he resisted the urge to circle the little bud. Not yet. There would time for that later.
He followed her shoulders and then went back down the outside of her body. He ran his palm down her side, bumping over her ribs before following the smooth line to her hip. He caressed her hip and her butt cheek. Flexing his finger into the skin, he paid close attention to how strong and how taut those muscles were. She was truly toned and gorgeous even though she was not in the fighting condition of the other women that he had known in the past.
The tiny sounds of pleasure she made told him that she loved the attention. It gave him courage. He nudged her over onto her belly and focused on her back. Pushing the covers away from her silky skin, he kissed a path down between her shoulder blades toward the rounded contours of her ass. He followed his lips with his hands and caressed each inch of her skin.
When he finally reached the backs of her thighs, she gave a little sigh and squirmed until her legs spread out just a bit. Unable to resist, Quentin let his fingers push through just below her butt cheeks so that he could feel the warmth of her pussy. She spread her legs some more, and Quentin found himself pressing the palm of his hand against her sex.
He began to rub in circles. Her breathing grew heavier and heavier. It was possible to feel the blood rushing into her groin. Her clit began to swell. It pressed against his hand. He felt the tiny nub but purposefully ignored it. He wanted to tease her. He wanted her to be so desperate for his touch that she could not help but ask him for what she wanted.
His hand grew wet. The damp sound of his palm pushing against her pussy filled the room. He ground the heel of his hand against her opening while his fingers just barely teased her clit. When she had started to tremble, he finally allowed one finger to circle the swollen little nub of her clit.
“Oh God,” she moaned. “Yes. Yes! Right there, Quentin. Please!”
The sound of his name on her lips was sweeter than heaven. He loved the way she said it, and he especially loved hearing it when he knew that it was because he was bringing her exquisite pleasure.
“What do you need?” he murmured. Pressing his lips to the base of her spine, he used his tongue to tickle the skin. “Do you need to come?”
“More.”
It was all she said. Knowing what she meant, Quentin gently delved into her slick folds with two fingers. He avoided her clit and focused on her opening. Gently pushing inside her body, he inserted two fingers into her pussy and began moving them in and out in a quick, steady rhythm.
Francesca arched her back and pressed her weight onto her knees. The movement raise
d her buttocks and pushed the fingers he had inside her body up against her pubic bone. In moments, he felt her body start to come. The muscles tightened. It became nearly impossible to move his hand within her. Each time he thrust back inside her body, he felt his fingers slide against the pad of muscle just inside her opening. She was going to come. He could feel it. The orgasm unwound inside her body. Her fingers were twisted into the sheets, and her face was pressed against the mattress. Her spine was so taut it could have snapped.
Her orgasm was beautiful to watch. The convulsions started near her neck. Her back moved with sinuous grace as she arched and then went flat. Her inner muscles began to convulse and tremble. Her pussy bore down on his fingers, and he could not move them at all. He continued to wiggle, hoping that it would increase her pleasure.
“Quentin!”
Her voice broke on his name, and Quentin felt as though he could take on the world. He wanted to bang his hands on his chest and brag to the whole world that he had made Francesca come. That was all that mattered in the here and now.
He let her gently come down from her orgasmic high. Wrapping his arms around her body, he held her close and listened to her ragged breathing grow steady once again. His cock was hard, but somehow, the dull ache was a welcome addition. He had brought Francesca pleasure, and that had been his only thought. The woman deserved someone to take care of her and put her first. It was a truth that seemed to be consistently drifting through his mind.
Chapter Nineteen
Quentin stared at the display on his phone and knew that Francesca wasn’t going to like this latest request from Nash and Ava. He sighed and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Francesca was at the kitchen island with Nona and Emily. The three women were laughing as they flipped pancakes, poked at sizzling sausages, and poached some eggs. The lighthearted atmosphere was too good to waste.
Nash Security Solutions Page 57
