by G. K. Brady
Three days later, Quinn was stowing his mom’s suitcase and wheelchair in his dad’s SUV while she exchanged good-byes with Sarah. The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue on budding trees and brought out a touch of dark red in Sarah’s glossy hair. Though his mother only planned to be gone a few days, and only across town, she sniffled as though she’d never lay eyes on Sarah or Archer again.
This is what being part of a family feels like.
She clutched both of Sarah’s hands. “You’ll stay here with Quinn, right? Where it’s safe? With that crazy man out on bail, I don’t want to worry about you being all alone at your brother’s house.” A shudder shook her shoulders.
Sarah exchanged a knowing look with Quinn before giving his mom an indulgent smile. “Don’t you worry. I’m staying put.”
“And I’ll sit on her if I have to.” Quinn was about to have Sarah all to himself for the first time since she’d come to live with them. Possibilities of the naked variety ran an endless circuit in his imagination, making his insides pop and fizz as he contemplated the hours and places and ways they could—
“I’m really going to miss Archer,” his mom lamented, turning forlorn eyes on the dog. Archer wagged and pranced; he had to know he was the subject of their conversation.
Sarah about blew Quinn out of the water when she said, “Why don’t you take him for tonight? He can help Mike get accustomed to your meds and some of your routines. I’ll come get him tomorrow, and that way I can bring anything you might have left behind.”
What?
His mother’s eyes widened. Quinn’s probably did too. “But won’t you miss him? Don’t you want him here for security?”
Sarah ruffled Archer’s furry neck. “Of course I’ll miss him, but I’ll manage one night. As for security, I think everything finally got worked out with the alarm service.” She darted her eyes to Quinn, who flinched. Paige had resolved it, but Quinn had missed the last step: activating his own account. Damn it! With the insanity of recent days, he’d completely spaced it, though he wasn’t worried—he’d hired a security company to track Wolf’s whereabouts. Through them, Quinn had learned that the jerkoff had engaged a Denver defense attorney and immediately split for Seattle, holing up in the house occupied by his wife and kids, no less. Inwardly, Quinn shook his head, bemused why this woman would let her cheating, lawbreaking husband move back in. Oh well. Not Quinn’s problem. All he cared about was that Wolf was states away from Sarah.
After the Buick disappeared down the drive, Quinn took Sarah’s hand in his and led her inside. He gave her a devilish grin. “Gee, we have the place to ourselves. What do you want to do, Sunshine?”
She flashed him a sultry smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Reorganize the kitchen? Catch up on laundry? Play hide-and-seek?”
His eyebrows inched up his forehead. “Hide-and-seek? Sounds interesting.”
Inside the foyer, he locked the front door and hit a keypad that closed the front gate to the estate. Safe and secure. No interruptions. Then he tugged her to him and ran his hands up and down her sides. “What are we hiding, Sunshine?” His mind zipped to hiding his favorite body part inside her.
She giggled. “I hide, and you have to find me.”
“And what do I do with you once I find you?” Fire traveled from his abdomen south.
“Anything you want.” She nipped his neck and danced out of his hold. “You count to twenty—no cheating—while I hide.”
“Wait! This place is huge. I might not find you until next week. We need some rules.”
“Such as?” She bounced in place, her grin spreading and eyes twinkling. Today the weather was warmer, and she was dressed differently, in a short denim skirt and a top that tied behind her neck. It was made of white, flowy material that swayed with her movements. The top bared her shoulders, but she’d thrown on a short navy sweater that covered them. What she couldn’t hide was the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. The top was made up of layers of sheer material that obscured but were nonetheless flimsy. He licked his lips. Maybe if he lunged at her right now, he could shorten the time it took to get his hands on her.
Instead, he reined in his libido. “Such as you can hide anywhere inside two wings—yours and mine. The rest of the house and outside are off-limits.”
“Deal,” she squealed. “Now go lock yourself in a pantry and count.” She pivoted, glancing between entries to the two wings.
“One …”
“Not until you’re in the pantry!” she laughed.
He spun away and headed toward the butler’s pantry. “One and a half …” A covert glance over his shoulder told him she was poised to duck into her own wing. “Two …”
When he hit twenty, he set off toward his wing. She’d probably tried to throw him off, the little minx. His logic paid off when he entered the ridiculous huge-ass walk-in-closet and spotted one of its many mirrored doors ajar. A flash through the gap had him grasping the handle and opening it wide. Anticipation danced in his veins.
Sarah nearly fell out of the closet compartment in a fit of laughter when Quinn whipped it open. He smirked, not looking the least bit surprised. She hadn’t wanted to make it too tough on him—she wanted to be found after all—but she’d hoped to make it more of a challenge than she had.
He tugged her out and closed the door, and she twirled in place slowly, taking in the garish finishes. “Holy … I still can’t get over the size of this room!”
“Yeah,” Quinn agreed. “Totally impractical.”
“Unless you have thousands of clothes and shoes.” The space reminded her of a lavish ladies’ fitting room from an old movie—one where the guy relaxes in a cushy armchair and drinks a martini while the woman he’s buying a wardrobe for models every piece of clothing he’s selected.
Surrounded by one mirrored surface after another—even the drawers and end panels were covered in mirrors—the space boasted a white marble floor shot through with gray veins and covered in furry white area rugs, decadent crystal chandeliers suspended from high ceilings, and a white leather ottoman large enough for two people to lie side by side. Wow!
Quinn looked around the closet—scratch that—salon. A slow, sly smile curved his lips. “Since I found you, I get to do anything I want with you, huh?”
Nerve endings fired, and she suddenly felt shy. “What did you have in mind?”
He reached for her and turned her in his arms so they both faced their reflection in a mirror. Oh so languidly, he slid her sweater off her shoulders and down her arms. “You know,” he began in a deep, thick, chocolate-syrup voice, “I thought this closet was an architectural eyesore and an extravagant waste of space.” He pulled the sweater completely off and tossed it on top of a mirrored dresser.
He ran his fingertips lightly up her arms, his gaze holding hers in the mirror. Goose bumps erupted under his touch, and tingles shot to every extremity like a haphazard cluster of exploding fireworks.
“And now?” she rasped.
“Now I see the real reason they built it, and I think it’s the best room in the house.”
She paused to clear her throat, but it betrayed her when it came out in a breathless quaver. “What, do you suppose, is its real purpose?”
His hands glided to her hips, hiking her skirt up a few inches, his fingers teasing her hem, and he nuzzled her cheek. Darkened with lust, his espresso eyes shimmered in the reflection. “Watch, and I’ll show you,” he murmured.
Then his hands slowly worked their way over her ass, up her spine, pausing to caress her bare upper back before unzipping her halter and loosening the tie at her nape. Like the sweater, he drew the top down leisurely, exposing her inch by inch. Cool air and heightened sensation puckered her skin. She exhaled.
The top hung up on her hips, but he abandoned it, instead cupping her exposed breasts, his eyes tracking his movements. “Now that is what I call architectural perfection,” he rumbled, his mouth beside her ear, feathering warm breath along her neck.
Her nippl
es had already compressed into hard peaks. His thumbs began circling them slowly, and they tautened into tighter beads. He dropped his mouth to the base of her neck, trailing moist, open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder, his eyes now trained on hers in the mirror. Caught in his gaze, she couldn’t look away.
One big hand traveled up, wrapped around her throat, and turned her face toward him. They were surrounded by mirrors, and she caught a glimpse of their bodies from a side angle, adding more flutters to her topsy-turvy tummy. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth, the kiss slow and sensual, mimicking his fingers exploring her contours as they moved from one breast to the other.
Mewling noises rose from her throat, and she couldn’t contain them. When she tried to turn her head away to catch her breath, his hand held it firmly in place while his tongue probed and swept her mouth. Lips and tongue then moved across her cheek, her jaw, her ear, her throat, sucking, licking, grazing his teeth over her skin.
One fluid movement, and he was suddenly in front of her, sinking to his knees. “Watch,” he repeated. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.”
The back of his head blocked her view until he shifted, and one side of her body came into view. She watched in fascination as his hand covered her breast. On the other side, still blocked from view by his head, he latched onto the other breast, sucking it into his mouth hard. She gasped, and her knees jellied. While he suckled and licked and nipped, his fingers rolled her other nipple, tweaking and pinching. She kept her eyes trained on what he was doing, fighting the temptation to let her head fall back.
Oh. My. God! Her body was transforming into a blazing Roman candle, her senses on overload. Her breaths came fast and shallow. Whether it was from his touch or the erotic charge she got from watching what he was doing, she couldn’t say. And she didn’t care.
Reflected in the mirror, her slim white fingers tunneled in his soft brown hair. He switched breasts, his mouth inflicting the same tortuous treatment on the other side while his fingers toyed with the one he’d just released.
Gently, he bit down on her nipple while his hands glided to the top of her skirt. The button was quickly released, the fly unzipped, and the skirt forced apart. His mouth still working over her breasts, he pushed the halter and skirt over her hips, down her legs, until they puddled at her feet. She shot out a hand, steadying herself against the dresser. His hands returned to her breasts, massaging, kneading, squeezing. She noted dully that her skin looked pale compared to his and that his big hands on her made her body look small. His mouth moved across her stomach, sending shivers dancing along her spine. He ran the tip of his tongue along the top of her panties, then trailed kisses after.
A moment later, he rose up and was behind her once more, his unmistakable erection pressing against her ass. Mouth on her neck, eyes on hers, his hands roved over her breasts, her rib cage, her stomach, her waist, her hips. They landed on the straps of her lace panties. He hooked his thumbs in the stringy bits, and just like her other clothing, he pulled them down in one long, deliberate motion. Dropping into a crouch, he dragged them down to her ankles. She still wore flats, and she toed them off, kicking them to one side.
He took his time standing upright, running his hands and tongue over the backs of her knees and thighs, covering her ass with soft bites and wet licks, lingering at the dimples he seemed so fond of, and finally up the channel of her back to the base of her neck. She leaned her head against him and let out an extended sigh.
His hands skimmed her body and dove between the tops of her thighs, where they stroked and squeezed. His thumbs, those talented thumbs, feathered over her mound and joined together to trace the length of her entrance, down, up, down, up, circling, teasing, supercharging the carnal chills racing through her body. Bowing her back, she reached behind and buried her fingers in his thick strands.
“You’re not watching,” he whispered against ear right before he nibbled her earlobe.
She blinked and focused on his eyes staring at her in the mirror. Elbows in the air, arms behind her head as her fingers played with his hair, she reminded herself of a stretching cat. His gaze wandered to his hands between her thighs, and hers followed. Strong fingers nudged her legs apart. One hand cupped her while the other feathered its way up her body, pausing to tweak her nipples, until it reached her chin.
“Open,” he demanded softly.
Lost in a sex-filled pleasure daze, she opened her mouth. He inserted his middle finger, and she sucked on it—hard—tongued it, hollowed her cheeks as he slid it in and out of her mouth. His eyes blazed as he watched her in the mirror. Her tongue flicked his index finger, and he ran it over her lips before inserting that one too.
“Killing me, Sunshine,” he groaned.
Good! Because you’ve reduced me to a quivering mass of nerves.
Out came his fingers with a wet pop, and he dropped them between her legs. One finger entered her, slick and warm, then the other. His free hand returned to her breasts. She closed her eyes and moaned as he slid his fingers in and out, in and out, her body humming with the sensations of his slow, steamy seduction.
He nipped her neck. “Open your eyes, babe.”
Her gaze landed first on his eyes, traveling to his calloused hand toying with her breasts, and finally to his fingers moving in and out of her. She arched again and began grinding against his hand at a leisurely tempo.
“Fuck, what a gorgeous sight you are,” he said reverently. “I could watch you every hour of every day and never get tired of it.”
She was on the verge of falling apart, and she didn’t want to go there alone. Wordlessly, she dropped her arms to her sides and slid a hand behind herself to his waistband, inching inside his gym shorts, running her fingers along the length of his engorged cock, spreading moisture over its head with her thumb. In the mirror, his eyes widened, then fluttered closed for an instant. With her other hand, she caressed her breast, her eyes drilling into his as she pinched and rolled her nipple.
“Goddamn, Sunshine. You are so fucking sexy.”
He stepped up the pace between her legs. Oh … I … Oh! Her mouth parted, and her eyes glazed over, but she kept them fastened on his as she wrapped her fingers around his steely shaft and pumped in time to his fingers.
A look that was part-pain, part-pleasure twisted his features. He huffed out an “Oh God!” then seemed to get himself under control, determined fingers curling and sliding and tormenting. “Come for me, Sunshine,” he breathed. She dropped her hand from her breast to the dresser to steady herself.
Now it was her turn to toss out an “Oh God,” but it came out as a cry as she climbed her climax. Loosening her grip on him, she closed her eyes while she chased the top of the pinnacle and shattered into countless shards.
As she drifted back down, he corded his arms around her waist, his hands soothing her skin, his mouth plying soft kisses along her neck and shoulders.
She stared at herself in the mirror, then at him, bringing herself back to earth and the hall of mirrors. Her skin was flushed pink all over. “Oh my,” she muttered.
A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I’m liking this closet a helluva lot.”
She nodded her approval, then twisted in his arms. His hands cupped her ass, and his eyes darted over her shoulder. “This is a nice view too.”
Craning her head, she caught a glimpse of her bare backside, followed by different views in other mirrors as she swiveled her head. “Can’t say I’ve ever done this in a closet before. Definitely not one covered in mirrors.”
“Me neither.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked down at her, his eyes deep pools of desire.
Gripping the hem of his T-shirt, she lifted it up his torso, running her hands over smooth, carved muscle. “No? I would’ve thought this wasn’t new for you.”
He yanked the shirt over his head and pinned her with a bemused look. “No,” he said softly. “This is a first for me. You’re a first for me. Everything’s new
with you.”
Oh. Tingly warmth puddled in her gut and spread up her chest, down her legs, ringing her middle. She tugged on his shorts, and he pulled them down along with his boxers, freeing his very heavy, imposing erection. He kicked off his clothes and his flip-flops and stood before her without a stitch on. Now it was her turn to view his beautiful body from all angles, and she sucked in a breath. As if her hands had a mind of their own, they began caressing him, and her eyes trailed after. The man was fucking gorgeous. She walked a circle around him while he stood ramrod-straight, her hands never leaving his body. While her fingers played over his skin, tracing scars, exploring, fondling, his eyes tracked her in the mirrors.
Taking his hands in hers, she walked backward, bringing him with her, until her knees bumped the ottoman. She dropped on her seat and peered up at him. “Watch.”
His lips quirked in a smile, but it slid off his face when she took him in her hand and guided his thick length to her mouth. A kiss, a lick, a flick of her tongue, and she closed her lips around him while she kept her eyes fastened on him. To her delight, he let out a loud hiss. His hands dropped to her shoulders, moved to her head, fingers burying themselves in her hair, his grip tightening as she sucked and nipped and swirled. She fisted him in one hand while the other played with his balls.
Eyes closing, he dropped his head back and moaned. She stopped what she was doing. “Watch,” she purred.
“Yes, ma’am,” he choked. His eyes roamed around the mirrors but didn’t close. Instead, he muttered and gasped and cursed as her hands and mouth worked him. He thrust into her mouth with short, controlled strokes while he held her head in place.
His chest heaved, and his breathing grew more erratic, his thrusts more intense. Mutterings turned to low groans and grunts. His knees buckled and swayed. His balls tightened. He was close.
He clamped down on her head, stopping her. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come,” he warned in a guttural rasp.
“I know,” she murmured.
Liquid brown eyes darkened by desire widened, then fastened on hers. She kept pumping and sucking and cupping. His fingers dug into her scalp, his knees dipped, and he surged into her, his body convulsing as he came, his mouth moving but nothing coherent coming out. She swallowed, drinking him down. Tense muscles eased, then he lifted her chin with his forefinger. “That was … that was …”
