Something Like Love

by Monica James

  Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I will my body to relax. “Don’t stop,” I pant and raise my hips, encouraging him to move because I want this. I want him.

  “I love you, Red,” and with one sharp, quick movement, he’s sheathed inside.

  “Holy fuck,” I moan, my body bowing backward at the hot intrusion, but also, because of the pain.

  “I’m almost there,” he pants, controlling his breathing. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

  What? There’s still more to come? I’m not sure if I can fit anymore of him inside of me without splitting in half, but as Quinn reaches down and begins rubbing over my clit, my fears are quickly forgotten. I slowly rock, following his touch and his rhythm, and before long, I’m hungrily raising my hips, wanting him to go in deeper.

  “You okay?” he gasps, his heated breath tickling my ear.

  “Yes. Just don’t stop,” I beg.

  “Never.” He swoops forward, capturing my lips with his.

  He pushes in and then pulls out, and I almost cry, needing him back inside. But with one quick thrust, he’s finally all the way in. He pauses, allowing my sore muscles to accept him into my body, but my body instantly recognizes him and welcomes him home.

  “Can I move?” he asks, his voice strained.

  I nod.

  I’m thankful the movements start out slow and controlled, because my body couldn’t take anything harder. But as I slowly find my rhythm, slow and controlled isn’t enough.

  “Faster,” I breathe out, looking at the man, my man, above me.

  But Quinn shakes his head. “I’ll hurt you.” He sucks his hoop into his mouth, concentrating on his guarded strokes.

  “No…holding back,” I gasp, and lift my hips, silently begging him to let go.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, attempting to pull out, but I clench my inner walls around him and he pauses, his eyes dropping to half-mast.

  “Let go,” I say, hoping I don’t regret this tomorrow. “Show me you love me, as I do you,” I whisper, reaching for his nipple ring and giving it a gentle pull.

  And that’s all it takes as he finally lowers himself deeper into me, giving in to his passionate needs. At first my body screams at the intrusion, but the moment he bends forward and captures a nipple into his wet mouth, my body hums in pleasure. The speed, the friction, the depth, all of it increases, and so does a tiny bundle of nerves in my belly, which slowly awakens as he strokes me with expert precision. The faster he moves, the quicker it rises.

  “Oh my god,” I gasp, as I never imagined it could feel this good.

  “You okay, Red?” he pants, kissing the corner of my parted mouth.

  “Yes,” I moan, my hips meeting his, thrust for thrust.

  I’m so close, I can taste my approaching climax, but I can sense Quinn isn’t there just yet. So doing what feels natural, I hook a leg around his waist and push down on his firm ass cheek with my foot, pushing him into me at a deeper angle.

  “Holy shit,” he groans. “You feel…so good.” He kisses me, devouring my lips.

  As his hips begin driving into me with a deep, delicious friction, and his tongue duels with mine, I know I’m done for. And when his barbell strokes me in a way which coincides with what he’s doing to me down below, the knot in my belly explodes, and I come with a thunderous scream.

  Tears sting my eyes as my back bows off the sofa, my body milking every tremor. But Quinn continues to pump into me, drawing out every last vibration before he curses, “Oh fuck,” and abruptly pulls out and groans as a warm feeling jets onto my lower belly.

  I collapse into a loud, messy heap, too sated to move as I close my eyes, basking in my post orgasmic bliss. My lungs feel like they’re about to explode, and my heart is kicking against my ribcage, threatening to break free, but I wouldn’t change this feeling for anything.

  After a few moments, I feel a light flutter on my stomach and crack open an eye to see Quinn cleaning me up. We both watch one another closely, and where I thought there would be embarrassment or shyness over what we just did, there is nothing but sincerity and calmness. And we don’t speak for minutes, because there are simply no words.

  Chapter 24

  Unheard

  It’s still dark out when I finally rouse, sore, but sated. The delicious burn between my legs is a wonderful reminder of what Quinn and I just did.

  Flickers of our naked bodies becoming one overwhelm me, and I clench my inner thighs, as I’m turned on all over again by the memory alone. I never thought it could be that way with someone, and I’m afraid that now that I’ve experienced this, I won’t be able to stop. I’m addicted to Quinn, but after tonight, I’m a full blown junkie, waiting for my next fix.

  “You okay?” a raspy voice asks.

  My body hums the second I hear his velvety voice, and my memories magnify, spreading animated warmth over my entire body.

  “I’m good,” I finally reply, turning to face Quinn, and he looks fucking epic.

  His hair is wild and freshly fucked, and his eyes are all sleepy and heavy. But it’s his mouth which has my tongue wagging. The way it tips up into a dimpled smirk tells me he’s been thinking the same naughty thoughts as me. Brushing a fallen piece of hair off my brow, he smiles.

  “How long have I been asleep?” I ask with a yawn.

  “A couple of hours,” he replies, still smiling. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “You do realize that’s creepy, right?” I tease. “You’ve just upped the stalker ante to full blown creeper.” I laugh as he wordlessly opens his mouth with no smart ass reply.

  But I like this. I like that there’s no awkwardness between us because for me, this only brings us closer.

  “What’s the matter, Berkeley? Cat got your tongue?” I squeal when he pushes me down quickly, catching me unaware.

  “You’re so going down.” He chuckles, pressing down on top of me with his full weight so I can’t move.

  Pinning my arms about my head and securing my wrists in one hand, he begins tickling me with the other.

  “Quinn!” I say, laughing so hard I almost choke.

  “Who’s tongue-tied now?” he says, showing no mercy as he tickles my ribs.

  “Truce!” I laugh, squirming and struggling to breathe.

  “I don’t think so.” He continues torturing me until I wheeze and gag.

  “You’re so mean.” I breathlessly laugh when he releases my wrists.

  “You’re lucky I stopped,” he says with a smirk. We’re both breathing rapidly from our impromptu play fight.

  It’s only now that I’m not squirming and begging for him to stop do I realize I’m lying under a very naked Quinn, my very naked chest pressing against his. But any shred of modesty was lost when I stripped bare in front of him as he bared me his soul. And I like that. I like that my messy, chaotic, unusual life has this one scrap of normalcy—it anchors me to my humanity. It keeps my hope alive that one day I’ll finally find my normal.

  Quinn can read my thoughts as he places a tender kiss under my ear. The loving touch sends a shiver down my spine, but Quinn mistakes my pleasure for pain.

  “Are you cold?” he asks, rubbing my upper arms.

  “I’m okay.” I smile, touched by his concern.

  “We should get back inside anyway,” he says after a moment of silence. And just like that, my bubble pops and reality sets in.

  He’s right. I don’t even know what time it is, or how long we’ve been out here. It’s time to face the music, but I don’t want to, just not yet.

  “Five more minutes?” I say, snuggling into his chest and pressing my face against his warm skin.

  Quinn wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head as he replies, “Let’s make it ten.”

  ***

  As the early morning light peeks through the curtains of our bedroom, I know I’ve hidden as long as I can.

  “It’ll be okay. I’ll do all the talking,” Quinn says, kneeling between my l
egs as I sit on the edge of the bed.

  “I just feel…weird?” I say, and Quinn chuckles, placing his hands on my upper thighs.

  “Is that a question or a statement?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I groan, slapping my hands over my face.

  I feel so stupid for behaving this way, but I don’t want to hurt Tristan. And I know I need to apologize to everyone, but I don’t want to. Polly said some fucked up things and I think she should be the one apologizing. But I’m going to be the bigger person because this house is small enough without adding any more uncomfortableness.

  “What are you going to say to Tristan?” I ask nervously.

  Quinn sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure he knows what happened. I mean, we were gone for a really long time. But I’ll be honest and tell him the truth.”

  I nod and wonder if that truth will include telling him about his dad.

  “Not yet, Red,” Quinn says, reading my thoughts. ”I’m not ready for two ass kickings in one day.”

  “Well, three.” I smirk, gently running my finger over his bruised lip.

  Last night, his injuries were the furthest thing from my mind, but now that I’m not riddled with lust, I can see Tristan got in some good shots. I hope I didn’t hurt him while I was mauling his face, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “I love you,” Quinn says softly and I gasp, as hearing it for the first time after last night and in the bright light of day, makes it real—makes us real.

  “I love you, too,” I reply, running my finger over the cut above his eye.

  “You ready?” he asks after a minute of me tracing his injuries.

  “No,” I reply, but stand.

  Quinn also rises, and reaches for my hands, pulling me into his chest.

  “Remember, let me do the talking.” I give him a small nod.

  “I’ll be quiet,” I agree, but Quinn smirks, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow.

  The moment we exit the bedroom, I instantly hear giggling downstairs. I arch a questioning brow as I turn to look at Quinn, but he only shrugs. We briskly take the stairs, and as walk into the kitchen, we’re both unprepared for what we see. Both Quinn and I stop and stare, unsure of what to do as we witness a very shirtless Tristan, chasing a very scantily dressed Polly around the kitchen table, water pistol in hand.

  They haven’t noticed us gawking at them and Polly giggles. “Stop it. I’m wet enough.”

  Her comment has me nearly gagging on my tongue and I step forward, enraged. “What’s going on in here?” I shout to be heard above the giggling.

  They both spin toward me, surprised they have company. The moment Tristan meets my eyes, I know he knows. He knows his brother deflowered me, after he risked his life for me time and time again. Suddenly, I feel really, really shitty, and it shows on my guilt-ridden face.

  “Tristan, we need to talk,” I choke out after a moment of silence, my wavering voice betraying my nerves.

  “So much for keeping quiet,” Quinn utters from under his breath behind me.

  I ignore him as I turn my attention toward a soaked Polly. I breathe a little easier knowing that her comment was referring to the outside of her shorts, and not the inside, as it seems we have interrupted a water fight.

  “Polly, can you go upstairs for a minute? We need to talk to Tristan,” I say, hoping she doesn’t decide to be difficult.

  No such luck. “Yes, I do mind,” she replies, boldly crossing her arms over her bust.

  “Well, too bad,” I bark back, my patience wearing thin.

  “It’s fine, Mia. She can stay,” Tristan says, which surprises me.

  Polly cocks a challenging brow my way. But I don’t take the bait, as I have bigger fish to fry.

  “Fine.” I huff, and then I begin to feel hot.

  How do I exactly tell him I chose his brother? To be fair, there was never a choice to be made. It was always Quinn.

  “I…um, er…” I mumble, feeling my cheeks explode in a burst of red. How the hell do I tell him this without sounding like a heartless whore?

  Just as I’m about to run out the door, screaming for the Canadian Hills, Quinn reaches for my sweaty palm and interlaces his fingers through mine. The moment I feel his touch, my heartbeat slows and I take a small breath. However, that breath gets caught in my throat as I watch Tristan’s eyes drop to our union. I automatically try and drop his hand, but Quinn holds on tight.

  “Tristan, look—” But Quinn pauses, as Tristan’s eyes are still glued to our hands, and he looks absolutely furious.

  I’m about five seconds away from dying of a heart attack, so I suddenly blurt out, “We had sex.”

  Why my mouth filter decided to malfunction and explode into an uncomfortable mess right this second is beyond me, but now that it’s out, we’ve gotta roll with it. However, Quinn closes his eyes and runs a hand down his face, softly groaning. No doubt he wishes I would just stick to my word and shut the hell up. Polly bites back a chuckle, as she no doubt loves watching me squirm.

  “Tristan,” I quickly say. “I’m sorry.” Once again I’ve put my foot in it, as Quinn turns to look at me, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow and letting go of my hand.

  “No, I’m not sorry it happened,” I quickly amend, reaching for Quinn. But when he and Tristan groan in unison, I decide now is a good time to shut up.

  “It’s fine, guys. I’m happy for you,” Tristan says. “No need to explain.” He gives a casual shrug.

  Both Quinn and I know he’s not fine, nor is he happy for us.

  “Bro.” Quinn sighs, but Tristan holds up a hand.

  “Save it, Quinn. You got the girl. No need to gloat,” he bites back, pushing off the counter.

  “Dude, I wasn’t going to—”

  “I don’t wanna hear it,” Tristan replies, narrowing his eyes.

  Polly decides now is a great time to butt in and add to the shitstorm. “You got the girl too, Tristan,” she says, running a fingernail down his chest and flicking his belt buckle.

  “Excuse me?” I spit, only just refraining from cleaning out my ears.

  “What? You think you can have them both?” Polly smugly asks, turning to glare at me.

  “Excuse me?” I repeat, as it’s better than the alternative of ‘fuck you.’

  “For your information, I don’t want them both.” For fuck’s sake, I need to zip it.

  Tristan snickers, and I quickly try to back paddle, but I know it’s too late. “Tristan, I love you as a—”

  “If you say brother, I will seriously stab myself,” he heatedly rebukes, so I shut it.

  “Listen, man,” Quinn reasons, taking a step toward his brother. “I love Mia,” he says with such strong resolve, I can’t help but melt. “We never planned for this to happen, it just—” Quinn pauses, turning to look at me with nothing but adoration in his eyes. “Tristan, I’ve loved her for a long time,” he softly concludes, and I almost fall flat on my face.

  He’s loved me for a long time? This is so not the time to swoon, but god damn that felt good. However, I remain composed as Tristan looks like he’s about to snap.

  “How long?” he asks, taking a steadying breath.

  Quinn clears his throat, averting his eyes, revealing his guilt.

  But Tristan presses. “Since you’ve been on the run?”

  However, Quinn only stands motionless, his eyes transfixed to the floor.

  “What? Before then?” Tristan asks, his voice betraying his shock, but also, his pain.

  “Yeah man, before,” Quinn softly replies with a nod, finally looking at Tristan.

  “What?” I gasp, silently begging him to meet my eyes. But he avoids my questioning stare like the plague.

  “Oh please, can I vomit now?” Polly snickers, sticking a finger down her throat.

  I internally count to ten to stop myself from sticking my whole fist down there, and focus on Tristan. “Tristan?” I question, as he’s gone deathly quiet.

  He flicks his pained e
yes my way and sadly asks, “And you want him?”

  As much as this is going to kill me, I nod. “I do. I’m sorry,” I say, and thankfully this time around, Quinn understands.

  Tristan runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. “Well, fuck me.”

  My heart breaks and I stop myself from reaching out to him, as I know my touch is the last thing he seeks at the moment.

  “Why do you care?” Polly suddenly yells, turning to face Tristan. “You kissed me last night! I thought you liked me.”

  Quinn groans and leaves behind an angry mohawk as he fists his hair in frustration. “Dude! Seriously?” He sighs, pointing at a pouting Polly. “You wanna know what she is?”

  I allow him to finish, because I’m quite certain his description of her will be a lot nicer than mine.

  “She’s jailbait, Tristan. She’s sixteen!”

  “I’m seventeen in two days!” Polly pipes up defensively.

  “Same shit! You’re still underage,” he yells, and Polly shuts her mouth right away.

  “I don’t need to listen to this shit, ’cause from where I’m standing, you’re in no position to tell me what’s right and wrong,” Tristan snarls, and Quinn flinches, devastated by Tristan’s intentional stab.

  Polly reaches for him, but he violently shrugs out of her grip and kicks open the backdoor, storming outside. I make a move to take off after him, but Quinn grabs my forearm.

  “Let him cool down. I’ll talk to him once he’s blown off some steam.”

  I look at the door, biting my lip as I really want to go talk to him. But I nod, as Quinn knows his brother better than I do.

  Quinn turns dangerously slow toward a cowering Polly. “And you,” he snarls. “Stay the fuck away from my brother. He’s got enough shit to deal with, and he doesn’t need your melodramatic crap to add to the shit pile.”

  Polly’s mouth gapes open, and I fight the urge not to smile.

  Polly sees me silently gloating, and her eyes turn cold. “This is all your fault,” she says between clenched teeth. “You’ve ruined my life.”