by G. K. Brady
She blinked up at him.
“Fuck!” was all he could say.
“Is that ‘fuck’ in a good way or a bad way?”
He lowered himself onto the ottoman, tipping her over and dragging her beside him as he lay down. “Fucking amazing,” he sighed.
“Oh good. You had me worried for a sec, Sparky.” She held back a giggle and nestled against him. His arms encircled her; he adjusted her head so it rested on his heart. One hand held her in place against him. He was solid and hard-planed, and God, his warm, smooth skin felt like heaven against hers.
“You have nothing to worry about. Fuck, I’m not sure I’ve ever come so hard.” His thumb traced lazy patterns on her arm. “Your skin is so soft.”
His mind seemed to be bopping from one thought to the other, and she realized how much she loved following it—when she could keep up, that was. She craned her head to look at him. “There you go being adorable again. Now knock it off, or I won’t be able to give you your daily tongue-lashing.”
“Is that what you call it? A tongue-lashing? And I get one daily? Sweet! I promise to stop being adorable right now.”
She swatted his chest playfully. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it, you perv.”
“How does thinking of you with your mouth on my dick every single day make me a perv?” He laughed out loud. “I think it makes me normal.”
They lay quietly for a few minutes, and he seemed to drift off, so her eyes took a tour around the glittering space. A tickle in her tummy made her squirm. “Yeah, the mirrors definitely add to the eroticism,” she whispered to herself.
His chest rumbled, surprising her. “Mm-hmm. Wherever I live, I’m having one of these built.”
“For you and your—”
Looking down at her, he put a finger to her lips. “Would you stop? I’m not sharing a playroom with anybody but you.”
Oh. There came that warm, gooey sensation again.
His hand played with her hair, then drifted down her shoulder, her arm, coming to rest on her hip. It slid to her ass and stroked, tickling her. He cleared his throat. “Have you thought about all the different things we can do in this room?”
She let out a laugh. “Apparently, you have. Tell me what scenarios you’re picturing in that wicked brain of yours.”
He propped himself up on an elbow. With the back of his free hand, he caressed her cheek. Soon that hand was roaming over her chest, her belly, her inner thighs. “How about I show you instead of tell you?”
Chapter 35
When Mom’s Away
If Quinn ran the world—or at least his world—he’d stay with Sarah in the house of mirrors and never come out. They’d never wear clothes, and they’d spend their days and nights rolling around, taking each other to new heights while they watched themselves catch fire. They’d collect into white-hot flames and detonate—in every goddamn mirror. Of course, they’d have to eat to keep up their strength, so he’d pay people to leave food outside the door and take it away when they’d finished. How awesome would that be?
Anything involving Sarah and sex was awesome, though. And as for new highs? That’s all he’d been climbing since they’d first slept together. Yeah, things had been subdued after that first night when they’d ripped each other’s clothes off, but they’d had to be careful to keep their relationship on the down low. Today had made up for the cautious encounters and then some—and the day wasn’t over. As he considered the possibilities, his cock twitched to life.
She was stretched out on her back on the ottoman, and he ran his hands and eyes over all that soft skin of hers. He loved touching her. Staring at her. Kissing her. Making her back arch. Being inside her. Listening to the throaty noises she made when she came. Feeling her soft, wet mouth on him. Watching her in a hundred mirrors as she fell apart all over him. Watching her in the same mirrors as she took him in her mouth and drove him out of his fucking mind.
“Mmm,” she purred when he twiddled her nipple. He loved how easily it tightened into a hard ball when he toyed with it. He’d never been with anyone so responsive, so completely there. Her body seemed to hum and sing under his touch.
Unable to stop himself, he squeezed her breast into a peak and dipped his head, sucking on her nipple and flicking it with his tongue. A little moan, and her back bowed. Yeah, she liked it when he tortured her like this. He bit down none too gently and rolled it between his teeth. She gasped. She liked this torment too. He slicked his tongue over her peak in a soothing motion and blew gently.
“Oh, mmm,” she sighed. Goose bumps erupted, and he let a satisfied smile lift the corners of his mouth. Learning what turned her on was his new mission in life.
Now her fingers were plowing through his hair again—he loved that too—and he repeated the process with the other side, rewarded with more soft moans, gasps, and languid writhing.
He lifted his head. “Are you watching?”
She shook her head and gave him a sleepy smile. “Should I be?”
“Oh yeah. Watch yourself in the mirror when I do this.” He clamped down on her nipple again.
“Ohhhh,” she gasped.
Contented she was watching, he dallied a little longer before sliding his hands under her ass. He moved down her smooth body, his tongue tracing the faint lines of her abs, garnering him more stuttered exhales. Her back bowed so hard he thought she’d lift off the ottoman. God, she was so damn hot!
His eyes moved from her to the mirrors while he kept up his slow advance. When he reached her mound, he buried his nose in her curls and pulled in her scent—a scent that drove him all kinds of crazy. He swore the way she smelled and tasted meant she’d been made just for him.
With a nudge of his head, she opened her legs. “Drop your knees to the side, babe. And watch.” He chuckled to himself. She complied, and his mouth was on her, sucking, tasting, kissing. He flattened his tongue and ran it up and down her seam over and over, flicking her sensitive spots. Her hips pumped and gyrated, setting him on fire.
God, I fucking love this!
It was as pleasurable for him as he hoped it was for her, and he lost himself in the sensation. Only with her had he ever felt this way.
Her lower body twitched off the ottoman, and she squirmed all over. Moans rolled through her. He looked up to find her watching him in a reflection. He winked at her, slid off the ottoman onto a fuzzy rug, dragging her ass to the edge with him. Then his hands were splaying her wide. In the surrounding mirrors, the sight of himself poised between her legs trapped in his hands—knowing what he was about to do—stiffened his cock and sucked the breath from him.
“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he murmured before lifting her to his mouth. She made a high-pitched gargling noise and bucked. He gripped her thighs so she couldn’t escape his onslaught. Then he feasted on her, driving her to the brink and back, again and again. Her cries climbed higher, she babbled incoherently, and her writhing grew more spirited, making his rock-hard dick throb with need.
She let out a little wail, and he heard his name falling from her mouth in breathless gasps. One last lap at her, and he released her. Panting and whimpering, she rolled to her side. In one mirror, the entirety of her front was on display. In another, her back. A pink flush made her skin glow. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He hoisted himself beside her and covered her mouth with his, kissing her long and deep, letting her taste herself while he stole the last of her moans. After he released her lips, he caressed the side of her face. “Hey, Sunshine. How you doing?”
A satisfied sigh escaped her. “I think I can feel my fingers and toes again.” She slipped her hand between them, her fingertips feathering along his length. “Which should come in handy for what you need.”
His swollen cock rose to her touch, and he couldn’t hold back the groan that thundered through his chest. “What I need is you,” he growled.
“I can tell,” she giggled.
She toyed with him, her
touch sometimes light and sometimes not, and he grinded against her hand, craving release. Fingers that weren’t occupied with torturing his dick tugged at his hair, skimmed over his shoulders, his back, his flank, his butt, tickling the back of his thigh. Her hands felt incredible on him.
Her mouth landed on his neck and trailed soft, sucking kisses to his ear, where she sank her teeth into his earlobe. “No one’s ever made me feel the way you do,” she murmured.
He raised his head and looked at her. A tentative smile curved her lips, and her eyes were open windows to her heart, where he saw himself. An arrow pierced his chest, a sensation so sharp yet so staggeringly sweet he couldn’t breathe. In that moment, her defenses were down, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. The urge to protect her, to make sure nothing ever hurt her again, overwhelmed him. But he was exposed too, and she could have led him anywhere—he’d have been helpless to do anything but follow at her whim.
Gently, he pushed her hair off her face and kissed her eyes, her forehead, her nose. Her lips. Soft, slow kisses that grew heated as pure emotion surged and spilled over, melding with desire in a whirlpool that couldn’t be contained. He was a drowning man. He’d never felt anything like it.
Mouths and limbs tangled in a frenzy, and she rolled over him, slid off of him, and landed on her hands and knees on the ottoman. “I want you inside me. Now.” Her throaty voice was low, demanding.
His pulse shot into overdrive. He stood, snagged a condom he’d stashed in his shorts, and sheathed himself. With one knee digging into the ottoman, he pulled her hips toward him. Holding onto one hip, he braced his weight on his other arm and leaned over her, his tip prodding her seam, while he nipped her ear. “Is this what you want, Sunshine?”
“Oh yes,” she exhaled in a breathless rush.
He brought himself upright and looked at their reflections. The sight of her naked, on all fours, him poised to enter her, nearly ended him right there. Her eyes, smoldering green-brown pools, flew to the mirror, catching his. He grasped her waist. One long stroke, and he sank deep inside her. She gasped. He stilled.
“Don’t stop,” she hissed, her glittering eyes piercing his in the mirror. Her back was bowed, making her round ass stick up, and he saw it from every angle. Saw her tits sway enticingly. Saw himself withdraw and thrust back inside her, harder this time. And again. Saw the pleasure on her face with every stroke.
She let out a long, sweet moan.
Consciousness dissipated, and he was flexing his hips, driving into her, in and out, while he held on to her. She pushed back against him, undulating her hips, chasing his cock and her pleasure. His grunts and groans mingled with her moans and cries, filling the room. Their coupling, primal and raw, was on display in every mirror. He watched himself take her, watched himself plow into her over and over, watched himself make her his.
Mine.
She watched too, her head canted at a different set of mirrors. The sight unleashed something toothy and wild deep down, and he became a pile-driver. White heat raced down his spine, pooling at its base. With a shudder, she cried out and contracted, surrounding him in a tight, wet clench. Her mouth was open, her head thrown back, her features a study in carnal bliss. And he couldn’t stop He hit the precipice at full speed and flew over with a shout, his release long, hot, and hard.
His knees were pudding, and he collapsed against her. She went down on her stomach with him draped on her back, both of them sucking in air. When he’d caught his breath, he looked up to see her gazing at him in one of the reflections. She smiled, and he nuzzled her neck.
When his limbs worked again, he got up and disposed of the condom. Back in the house of mirrors, he glimpsed her curled up on one of the white fuzzy rugs, and he stretched out beside her, his front to her back, gathering her to him—where she belonged. Eyes closed, she wiggled closer and hummed contentedly. He blinked at their reflections, loving what he saw. She fit him perfectly, in so many ways. As he drifted off, the words, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” wound through his head.
Sarah stirred to Quinn wrapped around her, the sight reflected unendingly in the shimmering silver mirrors. Physically, her heart rate and breathing had returned to normal, but mentally she was still trying to catch her breath.
A chorus of Wowwowwow’s buzzed in her head, leaving her at a loss for words to describe their soul-penetrating lovemaking. Lovemaking, however, was too gentle a term for the passionate connection that had ignited them both. Whatever else it was, it went light-years beyond a physical joining. Something deep, visceral, and powerful had passed between them. This most definitely was not just sex.
When had she ever been so aroused, so moved? Never. The delicious burn in the muscles of her thighs and stomach, her sensitized skin, told her she should have been sated, but instead she craved more.
She studied his reflection. A broad, tanned forearm draped her middle, a dark contrast to her peach-tinged skin. His large hand splayed across her chest, covering one breast fully while his fingers grazed the other. His other arm was pillowed under his head, thick chestnut locks resting on his elbow. A calf dusted in dark hair nestled between her legs. Rhythmic breaths fell soft and warm on her neck. The way he cradled her, infusing her with his heat, comforted her every nook and cranny. How ironic that the man whose mere presence once had her spitting insults now evoked equally powerful feelings of an opposite nature. When, and how, had that happened? It had been a gradual shift, an erosion of walls she’d built from anger and bitterness after her humiliation at Wolf’s hands.
But what about the blond babes Quinn drew into his orbit? The same worn questions circled inside her brain. Once COVID restrictions were lifted, would he revert to his old ways as a free-wheeling, high-scoring hockey hunk who trolled bars and clubs for hookups? A little voice piped up in her head. No, it insisted. She wanted to believe it, but only time would tell. Eyes wide-open.
Behind her, the hockey hunk stirred, mumbling under this breath. His leg bent hers back, and cool air soothed her tender parts. Still half-asleep, he kissed her neck while his arm and hand tightened their hold.
“Mmm, Sarah, smile.” He hummed a few bars of a familiar tune.
His eyes opened, and he stared at her staring back at him. “I really like this room,” he said in a dusky voice. “We might have to lock ourselves in and never leave.”
She twisted in his arms and faced him. His hand slid down her back to cup a cheek.
“Not sure how practical that is. We’ll need food, showers … And speaking of showers, I’d like to clean up.”
He planted a kiss on her forehead. “How about a swim first?”
“A swim where?”
His eyebrow quirked. “In the big, heated pool outside the gym?”
“I stuck my toe in there. I’m not sure how heated it is.”
“That was late in the winter, when it was still cold. It’s much warmer now.” When she eyed him dubiously, he added, “Where’s your sense of adventure? Let’s go find out just how warm it is. Besides, I can always heat you up.” Now his eyebrows bounced.
“You do have a talent for doing that.”
His lips tipped up in a happy, dimpled smile.
“All right,” she sighed. “I’ll get my suit.”
“No suits,” he scoffed. “We’re skinny dipping.”
“We are? But—”
“No one can see us.”
Before she could think of another argument, he was on his feet, hauling her up with him, a very determined look on his face.
A few giggles escaped her. “Can I at least wear a robe out there?”
He looked her up and down, and she nearly broke out in a blush. With a shrug, he began opening mirrored closet doors. “There are robes in here somewhere.” He went from one door to another.
“Aha!” he cried triumphantly, holding up two plush terry robes like the ones luxury hotels offered their guests. Blue for him, pink for her.
They covered up and made their way to the gym, wher
e they grabbed oversized towels.
Quinn opened a glass slider, and they were out in the brisk night air. At the edge of the pool, he shucked his robe and tossed it on a lounge chair. She was clinging to the warmth of hers, but he stripped it off her, and it joined his. Then he pushed her in, making her gasp, and dove in after.
After the initial shock of the plunge, she began adjusting to the water temperature. Sort of. Quinn was underwater, and he broke the surface, sucking in air and doing the man wet-hair-fling move. The end result had him looking like he sported a cockeyed fin on his head. He swam toward her, his body cutting a big shadow in the ghostly blue glow of the pool lights. Beyond the pool, the backyard melted into a solid curtain of black.
Quinn gathered her up in his arms and flung her through the air. She landed with a Slap! With fake outrage, she lunged, wrapping herself around his back while she tried to haul him underwater. He laughed. “I think I have a flea on my back.” Strong hands peeled her off him and dunked her.
And so it went. They splashed, spluttered, raced, tackled, whooped, always with the same outcome: their bodies bumped together, wet skin sliding against skin, limbs entangling. Lingering kisses and fondling ensued.
During a moment of calm, Sarah wrapped her legs around him and gazed up at the star-freckled sky while he twirled her on the surface of the water. They were plunged in quiet. Chilly air puckering her exposed skin, she righted herself and looped her arms around his neck. He swam backward with her clinging to him. Movement in the dark snagged her attention, and she strained, trying to pick out what it was.
He turned his head, peering in the same direction. “What are you looking at, babe?”
