Keeping Quinn: The Next Generation

by Edwards, Riley

  Shit, that hurt.

  “Quinn—”

  “I know what this is, Brice. I’m not asking you for dinner and conversation. I’m offering you sustenance. And just so you know it’s purely selfish, I was thinking if I fed you, by the time you were done eating you’d be up for round two.”

  That was a cover-up of course, but when he smiled and trailed his fingertips down my arm I knew he bought it. I would’ve enjoyed that touch if I wasn’t so relieved.

  “You wanna order something?”

  Yes, I was relieved.

  “No. I made dinner and I always make enough for leftovers.”

  “You sure you’re good?”

  “Yeah, Brice. I’m more than good.”

  He knew I was better than good—he’d made that so. Therefore it was not a surprise when his grin turned into a cocky smirk.

  “You don’t have to be smug about it,” I grouched.

  “Yeah, baby, I do.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Just is.”

  “Whatever.”

  He didn’t move, not for a few long moments. Then he finally told me he’d meet me in the kitchen and gave me some privacy to dress.

  I fed Brice—we made conversation and had a few laughs. After that, he took me back into my room and round two was better than round one. I didn’t think it was possible to top our first time but somehow he managed.

  Then he kissed me goodbye and left.

  Maybe I could do this.

  If after we were done, he’d keep giving me a few minutes of sweet before he took off, I’d find a way.

  8

  I looked down at the text string and cringed. I hadn’t seen Quinn in three days. My work schedule was totally jacked with two of the guys out on leave. One had been injured and the other one’s wife just had a baby. That meant extra shifts for everyone. It seemed I was never going to get off the three days on—one day off rotation and it was killing me.

  Normally this would not bother me. I loved my job, liked the guys I worked with, and had no issue with pulling extra duty. But now I was anxious to get home and see Quinn. Which was why I was reading over our text messages.

  And everything I read told me I needed to cool things off. There were at least fifty messages back and forth. Something I didn’t do—spend time texting women. Not because I didn’t have the time, but because it planted ideas—the wrong kind.

  But damn if I didn’t enjoy talking to her even in the form of texting. Most of what we texted was nonsense. Silly shit, that was truly meaningless—but really wasn’t because it meant we were connecting.

  Even as I stared at my phone, knowing what I needed to do, the knot in my gut growing every day, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

  I wanted Quinn something fierce. I wanted to take her to bed and wring every moan I could out of her. I wanted to watch her eyes light when she got close and looked shocked it was going to happen. And, Christ, when she let go and went flying it was spectacular—and not just the way her slick pussy pulsed around my cock, not the sounds, not even the way her emerald eyes caught fire—it was the way she held on.

  I’d never felt anything like it. Never had that type of closeness.

  I shot off a quick text to Quinn telling her I was on my way home, and before my screen went dark I got a reply. That was something else about her, there was no bullshit. Quinn didn’t play games. No wait between texts. No stupid shit like trying to make me think she was busier than she was. Straight up, no bullshit. When she was busy, she texted right away telling me so and going as far as telling me what she was doing. When she became unbusy, she messaged again. She messaged me goodnight. When I’d had to cut out of a conversation because I’d gotten a call, there’d been no bitching, just a ‘stay safe’.

  I really, really, needed to back off and pull away.

  But when I read Quinn’s message I knew I wasn’t going to do that.

  * * *

  Quinn’s front door opened and her hand shot out, but this time I was ready for her. She didn’t get the chance to grab my bicep and haul me into her apartment. She was up in my arms, legs around my hips, her mouth on mine.

  Christ, she could kiss. I tasted chocolate and wine but mostly I tasted her. A flavor I was quickly becoming addicted to.

  We made it to her room. I set her on her feet and without delay our clothes hit her floor. One of these days I’d make her go slow, give me a show as she stripped naked. But today was not that day. It’d been three days since I’d had her and I wasn’t wasting time.

  “Turn around.” She did as I asked, my chest hit her back and I kissed her shoulder. “You wet for me, Quinn?”

  “Yes.”

  I bet she was but I still wanted to check. One hand went between her legs, the other went to palm her heavy breast and she melted back. Fucking perfect. I slid a finger through her folds, reached her center, and groaned when I found her not wet, but dripping. I gathered up her excitement, dragged my finger back to her clit, and circled until her hips bucked.

  “Brice.” The sound of her whine went straight to my cock resting on her bare ass, and as much as I wanted to make her beg, I couldn’t do it.

  “Lean over the side of the bed.” I reached into her nightstand, found the box of condoms, and made quick work of rolling one on.

  Quinn wiggled her ass in impatience, and if my dick wasn’t jerking in my hand, I would’ve laughed, she was damn cute. I took a moment to appreciate the view of her smooth back, her silky black hair falling mostly over her shoulder, her fine ass on full display.

  “You’re sexy as hell bent over for me, baby.”

  “Hurry.”

  “Spread your legs a little wider.” When she did, I moved in and notched the head of my dick in her opening and I didn’t have to wait long—just as I hoped, Quinn pushed back, taking more of my length.

  “Brice!”

  “You ready for more?”

  “Yes.”

  “You sure?” I pushed forward giving her another inch, when suddenly Quinn reared back, and fuck but that was hot as hell.

  “Yes,” she groaned.

  Both my hands went to her hips and I ordered, “Reach between your legs and help me out.”

  “Huh?”

  Jesus. Cute.

  “Your clit, baby. This is gonna go wild and I need you with me. Reach between your legs and toy with your clit.”

  Her pussy convulsed, ripping a moan from my throat and necessitating I count back from ten. When I had myself under control, Quinn hadn’t moved. I reached forward, grabbed her hand, and brought it where I wanted it.

  “Just like this, baby.” I showed her what I wanted her to do, only giving her slow, shallow thrusts that caused my balls to draw up and my spine to tingle.

  With our combined fingers, I continued to tease her until she started rubbing faster.

  “That’s it, baby. Don’t stop touching yourself.”

  “Okay, Brice,” she panted, and not for the first time I thought about how much I liked hearing her say my name. Especially when it was breathy and coming out choppy.

  “Don’t stop, baby. No matter what.”

  I gave her a few hard thrusts and when her fingers kept working her clit, I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I could feel her hand between her legs—the thought of her playing with herself, something she obviously hadn’t done, or wasn’t comfortable doing, yet she was doing it for me, was near enough to make me shoot off. The only thing that would’ve made it better was seeing her do it. I put that on the list of things to do in the future, then wiped my mind clean and rode her rough. Pulling every sound from her I could.

  The room filled with grunts and groans, flesh pounding into flesh. It smelled of sex and excitement so thick I could taste it.

  Fuck, but she was sexy. Everything about her—a juxtaposition—sweet but wild, sexy but shy. I didn’t know what part I liked the best, and figured it wasn’t one thing but all of it. All of her. She was the best dream. She tasted, smelled, and
felt like happiness.

  “I can’t!” she shouted and her fingers slowed.

  “Don’t stop, Quinn.”

  “It’s too much.”

  “Don’t—”

  “Oh, God.”

  “You’re there, baby. I can feel it. Your pussy’s so fucking tight. Just let go.” A few strokes more and she detonated.

  Her hips bucked, her pussy squeezed, and then she screamed her orgasm, taking me with her.

  “Goddamn, Quinn.” I slammed home, stayed planted, and lost all focus as my climax raced through me, making my legs weak and my hand tremble.

  There was nothing like Quinn Walker. It didn’t matter if she was wrapped around me or bent in front of me not touching me at all. The result was the same. And that scared the fuck out of me.

  I gave us both time to come down from our high, slowly stroking, taking my time enjoying the feel of her still tight around my cock. I waited until she fully relaxed into the bed then gently pulled out. I felt the loss of her immediately, another thing that scared me.

  “Up on the bed, baby.”

  I helped her climb on the mattress, settled her on her side, then reached for the blanket and covered her.

  And when those beautiful eyes hit mine I knew, knew, I had to cool things down. I’d never seen eyes like hers, they said everything. Hazy with sex, absolutely. But there was something else there, something I couldn’t read mainly because I wasn’t allowing myself to go there, too afraid I’d get lost.

  “You okay?” I asked and brushed her hair over her shoulder just because I wanted to touch it. I could spend hours combing my fingers through her midnight locks and still not believe how soft it was.

  “Better than okay.” I felt my mouth twitch and her eyes narrowed.

  Before she could bitch about how smug I was being, I got up. “Be back.”

  I quickly went into the bathroom, discarded the condom, and washed my hands. What I didn’t do was think about a way to pull away from Quinn. Instead I went back to where she was lying on her bed and sat back down. This was normally the part where I made my exit but I couldn’t find it in myself to dress and leave.

  I told myself I stayed because I’d promised her I’d treat her with kindness, which included the respect she deserved. But sitting next to her, running my knuckles down her face, had nothing to do with any promises I made.

  “You hungry?” she asked.

  Yeah, I was hungry. Both for food and more of her.

  “Takeout or did you make dinner?”

  “Takeout.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Pizza?” she asked hopefully.

  “You stay here and relax. I’ll order, run to my house, drop my bag, and grab a few beers.”

  “There’s beer in the fridge.”

  My gut twisted at her announcement. Quinn didn’t drink beer, she drank wine, something I learned over Chinese. That meant the beer in her fridge was there because she bought it for me. Something that sex partners do not do.

  Shit.

  “Be back in a few.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Fuck, no, I wasn’t okay.

  “Babe, I just got the best welcome home I’ve ever received. I’m fuckin’ great.”

  Why those words came out of my mouth I’ll never know. My only excuse was I was a dumb fuck and my orgasm had rendered me insane.

  “Kay. I’m gonna rest a minute.”

  Then I did something ever stupider, I leaned forward and kissed her forehead before I left.

  My stupidity didn’t end there. I ordered a pizza, went back to my apartment, dropped my bag, then went back to her. And in the fifteen minutes I was gone, I had not thought about a way to pull back.

  * * *

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Quinn asked from beside me. With my pizza halfway to my mouth I froze. “Um…forget I asked.”

  Shit. I took a bite, chewed, and swallowed as nonchalantly as I could. Knowing I should cut this conversation off and move to something safe like, say, politics or religion, I didn’t. Instead I kept with the theme of the night—me being stupid—and answered.

  “Two brothers. I’m the youngest, Adam’s the middle, and Bryan is the eldest.”

  “Adam?” Quinn chuckled. “Brice and Bryan then an Adam…”

  Not only did I answer but I offered more information.

  “My mom’s name is Bonnie. My dad is Bryan. We used to call my brother BJ until he hit junior high and started getting teased. He flatly refused to use the nickname and demanded to be called Bryan. Adam’s real name is Bernard. For obvious reasons he goes by his middle name.”

  “Bernard? Sheesh, I would use my middle name, too.” I couldn’t stop the chuckle when she scrunched her face. “No offense.”

  “None taken. Bernard’s a family name. My dad’s father. Never got why they’d name their son after the mean son-of-a-bitch. But then my dad always said he was a good man when he wasn’t drunk.”

  “The addicts,” she whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “The night you were hurt,” she started. “You said you wouldn’t take pain pills because of the addicts in your family.”

  Shit. I hadn’t remembered I’d said that, not something I normally share.

  “Yeah. Most of my dad’s side has issues with addiction. I’ve never known my grandfather not to be a drunk but Bryan does. The way he tells it, granddad used to be able to hold his liquor, then my grandmother died and he stopped trying to remain sober until at least after dinner—more like he made it his mission to be sloshed by lunch. My dad’s brother, Seth, has an issue with pain pills, alcohol, and women. The pills started after a back surgery. I suspect the booze and inability to keep his dick away from women who are not his wife are because he’s just an asshole. And my cousin skipped alcohol and pain meds altogether and went straight for the heroin. So with all of that, my dad might have a beer or two here and there but he’s cognizant of the fact addiction runs in the family. Something he pressed upon me and my brothers. None of us are big drinkers and all of us refuse pain medication.”

  “Probably smart,” she returned and went back to eating her pizza as if I hadn’t just told her my granddad and uncle are drunks and my cousin was a junkie.

  Quinn’s family was damn near perfect. No issues with drugs or anything else. I’d spent a good amount of time with all of them at barbeques and other family get-togethers and I couldn’t imagine any of her uncles out carousing while their wives were at home. Forget doing it with their son and nephew in attendance. But mine had. With Jackson being my best friend, I was always invited and everyone welcomed me. I shouldn’t have been surprised she hadn’t been judgmental or recoiled when I’d told her about my family but I still was.

  “How’s Emma?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.

  “So damn cute I wanna steal her from Delaney and Carter. Unfortunately Carter guards the door when I’m there, probably sensing I’m trying to find a way to kidnap my niece. I told you the last time I went over to visit, Honor was there with Carson and Hudson. Hudson’s getting so big, crawling everywhere and pulling himself up on everything. Don’t tell Jackson, but I think Ethan and Honor are going to start trying for another one soon.”

  My stomach bottomed out at the mention of Jackson. Telling him I knew that Honor and Ethan were going to try for another baby would mean I’d have to tell him I gained that knowledge from Quinn over pizza in her apartment after I’d fucked her for the third time.

  On top of everything else I was doing which was absolutely stupid, I was now lying to my best friend. I knew he’d lose his ever-loving mind if he found out what I was doing, something that should’ve stopped me dead, but didn’t.

  “We should talk about Jackson,” I told her.

  “No, we shouldn’t.”

  “Yeah, babe. We should.”

  “No, Brice, there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “He’s my best friend—”

  “And he’s min
e, too. Has been since we were babies. But what’s happening between us is none of his business.”

  “I think he’d disagree.”

  “I’m sure he would. However, I’m a grown woman and I make the decisions about who I have sex with, not him.”

  Fuck, hearing her tell me she decides who she has sex with hit me with a force I was not prepared for, reminding me that that’s what this was—sex. Something she hadn’t forgotten. She didn’t say someone she spent time with, she’d been specific. And for some unknown, godforsaken reason, that hurt.

  “If he—”

  “Enough about Jackson. Finish your pizza so we have time for round two, it’s getting late and I have to work in the morning.”

  There it was, Quinn’s head was screwed on straight even though mine was fucked-up.

  And that didn’t hurt, that fucking killed.

  9

  The last six weeks had been crazy.

  I worked.

  Brice worked.

  And Brice had continued to knock on my door, then he’d come in and knock it out of the park—every time. I was now officially ruined for all other men.

  Sometimes he went home first and showered before he came over, other times I met him at the door and yanked him into my apartment. We’d have sex then he’d go home.

  This also meant we ate dinner together a lot. Mostly I cooked, but sometimes we ordered in. But we always ate sitting on my couch watching TV. And now that included cuddling. Something he introduced a week ago when I yawned during a baseball game and he pulled me close and wrapped his arm around me, ordering me to sleep and he’d wake me when the game was over. This I thought was strange—normally when that happened, he’d walk me to my room, tuck me in, and leave.

  But it seemed like since he broke that particular seal, every time we watched TV, he’d yank me close and keep me there. I, of course, didn’t complain. As a matter of fact, I secretly loved it. But deep down inside I knew it wasn’t a good idea and it would be one more part of the heartache when this eventually ended.