Something Like Love

by Monica James

  When his lip ring bites into me, my already reckless body is soaked with desperation, and I can’t get his clothes off fast enough. Rearing back, I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, nearly ripping it in half as I pull it off his hardened body. His chest is rising and falling quickly, turned on by my aggression, and his response has me rocking on his body, needing to feel the delicious burn between my legs.

  Quinn feels it too, and both our actions mimic that of crazy, horny lovesick maniacs, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Snapping the top button of my jeans open with ease, I cry out the moment his finger seeks entrance into my sore opening. He quickly pulls back, afraid he’s hurt me, but I latch onto his forearm, demanding more.

  “Are you sore?” he whispers, his finger slowly testing my limits.

  Arching backward and rotating my hips to get a deeper angle, I moan, “Yes, but it’s a good pain. So good,” I add as he inserts another digit.

  How can this feeling of completeness feel so right? Nothing else matters when I’m with Quinn. And when I’m with him in this way, everything else just…slips away.

  I need to be skin to skin, so clumsily I reach for my shirt and pull it over my head while still riding Quinn’s fingers. The moment my lacy breasts are revealed, Quinn groans in the back of his throat and latches onto my taut nipple, which is poking through the barely there bra.

  The stupid material is in the way, so I reach around and unhook my bra. The moment the material falls away, I gasp with a pained breath as Quinn sucks my entire breast into the hot cavern of his delicious mouth. I should be embarrassed my small breasts can be worked this way, but I am feeling anything but embarrassed as I scream out my impending release when Quinn flicks over my core.

  “I own this,” Quinn hisses, his fingers increasing the speed and pressure, while I bite my lip, tears stinging my eyes. “Tell me I own this,” he passionately cries.

  I don’t know why he needs to hear it, as he knows he owns me body and soul, but I sooth the alpha in him as I scream, “You own it. You own me,” and I come so violently, my entire body rocks with the unexpected force.

  Little convulsions overtake my body, and I twitch for minutes after my release, my body basking in an epic afterglow. However, the bulge tenting between my legs alerts me to the fact that we have only just begun.

  A soft rapping at our door interrupts those thoughts, and I attempt to catch my breath so I don’t alert the person on the other side to what just happened.

  “Um…hi,” Cynthia mumbles, and Quinn tosses his head back, quietly groaning in his throat.

  “Hi, what’s up?” I ask her, giving Quinn an apologetic look.

  “Um, is this a bad time?” she asks, and I honestly can’t stop the bubble of laughter which breaks free.

  Quinn however, doesn’t see the humor, and his painful arousal may be the reason why.

  “It’s fine. Everything okay?” I say, turning to look at the door, awaiting her reply.

  Both Quinn and I wait for her response, and when we’re greeted with silence, I think she may have left.

  But after a few uncomfortable seconds she replies, “Have you seen Polly?”

  “Um…” I look at Quinn, who shakes his head. “No. We haven’t seen her.”

  “Oh dear,” I hear Cynthia mumble.

  Slowly lifting myself off Quinn’s lap, I look down at this pants and pout, as Cynthia is totally ruining a moment. But the moment is sadly lost, as I hear the concern lacing her voice.

  Slipping my clothes back on and fastening my jeans, Quinn reaches for his shirt and unhappily covers up his chest. When we’re all dressed and decent, I open the door and recoil when I see a pale faced Cynthia.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask, sensing a whirlwind of chaos about to form.

  “I t-think…um,” she stutters, and Quinn sighs.

  “What’s going on, Cynthia?”

  Meeting our eyes, she wrings her hands in front of her as she whispers, “Polly is missing.”

  ***

  “Missing?” I ask, leaning against the doorway for support. “Why do you think that? Maybe she just went out for a walk?” I suggest, which is improbable, as I haven’t seen Polly do any kind of walking since I’ve met her. But I try and stay positive before I go jumping to conclusions.

  However, Cynthia shakes her head, determined she’s gone. “I checked her room. It looks as if it’s been ransacked.”

  My hand flies to my throat, as her comment worries me. “Ransacked? You don’t think—” I say, leaving the sentence unfinished, as there is no way Thomas and Phil have been here undetected.

  Cynthia quickly shakes her head. “No, I don’t think…that.” I sigh in relief. “I think she’s run away.”

  Quinn is the first to speak up. “There’s no way someone like your daughter would run away. No offense,” he adds with a strained smile.

  “Then where is she?” I ask. “Maybe in true Polly fashion she’s just thrown a temper tantrum, trashed her room and gone to harass Tristan?” I offer, as it’s a plausible scenario.

  Speaking of Tristan, I look at Quinn, silently asking where he is. “When I left him, he said he was taking a walk…to clear his head.” The way his mouth dips into a tight frown pulls at my heart strings.

  “Maybe you’re right, Mia,” Cynthia concedes, but her tense voice tells me otherwise.

  Pushing past her, I storm down the hallway into Polly’s room, as this little brat has once again become the center of everybody’s universe. Cynthia is right—the place does look like it’s been ransacked, but Quinn also has a point. Someone like Polly wouldn’t last one minute out there alone without her damn lip gloss or moisturizer. And let’s face it, where would she go? We’re out in the middle of nowhere.

  “I’m worrying over nothing, aren’t I?” Cynthia asks, needing reassurance.

  Just as I’m about to comfort her, Quinn confirms her fears. “No, I think you’re right, Cynthia” he says, storming over to Polly’s desk.

  “Exactly. Hang on, what?” I amend when I hear his unexpected response.

  But he ignores me as his intelligent eyes scan over a discarded newspaper, his fingers running down the page. As he jabs at a particular article, the suspense is too much and I stamp over to where he stands.

  “What?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, asking him to explain.

  But all my questions are answered when Quinn shoves the newspaper under my nose, allowing me to see for myself.

  “She wouldn’t?” I gasp, looking at him, shaking my head.

  But as he nods, I know that she so would.

  “I’m going to kill her.” I sigh, snatching the paper from his fist.

  “What’s going on?” Cynthia asks, clearly confused by our exchange.

  “Your daughter decided going here,” I say, pointing to the advert. “Would be a good idea,” and I hand her the newspaper so she can see for herself.

  “No,” she says, her eyes wide as they scan down the page.

  “Yes,” I retort, my jaw clenching.

  “There is no way she would think going here, where there are thousands of people, thousands of witnesses, be a good idea,” Cynthia says, shaking her head in denial as she hands me back the paper.

  But as Quinn and I stare at her, incredulous to her naivety, she knows we’re right.

  “I really don’t think a lot of thought was put into her decision, Cynthia,” Quinn snaps, and I groan.

  “Oh, Pollyanna.” Cynthia sighs, covering her face with her hands as she shakes her head.

  I curse under my breath as I look at the ad, which is circled in purple marker, for the “End of Year Rave,” which is happening tonight, in town, where thousands of people will be in attendance. And no doubt my father, Phil, and a buttload of police will also be there.

  “I hope you packed your dancing shoes,” Quinn says, trying to make light of our situation, but it doesn’t work.

  ***

  “A rave? Seriously? Do these things even
exist anymore?” I ask, angrily tying up my boots. “How lame.”

  Quinn nods as he reaches for his jacket. “I know, Red, it is fucking lame, but I don’t think people go there for the music.”

  Looking up at him mid-lace, I cock an eyebrow. “I’m not following.”

  Quinn scratches the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I think they’re in attendance for the party favors,” he explains, and my mouth pops open.

  Motherfucker.

  So not only do I have to attempt to remain invisible to the police, who have no doubt memorized my face, I now have to look for my bratty sister amongst drug-enhanced delinquents. Fucking peachy! And to add to the mile high shit pile, I have to be on constant watch for Thomas and Phil.

  Groaning, I finish tying my laces and stand up. “Let’s get this over with.”

  But Quinn reaches for my arm, stopping my retreat. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I know by ‘okay,’ he means am I going to lose my shit by being around my past. “Honestly, I am so desensitized at the moment, nothing shocks me anymore,” I reply, tucking my hair underneath my black baseball cap. A black baseball hat and some tacky, fake tattoo sleeves, which I found in Polly’s room, is my only disguise for the evening. We’re so screwed.

  Quinn stills my fingers as I irritably stuff my thick, stubborn hair into the sides, but it keeps slipping out.

  “Nothing?” he questions with a playful smirk, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.

  And just like that, my homicidal tendencies get taken down a notch, and I let out a pent up breath. “Well, almost nothing,” I reply, running my finger along his bottom lip, instantly missing his piercing.

  “It’ll go straight back in,” he says with a smile as he sees me frown.

  “It better,” I pout, standing on tippy toes to ensure he left his barbell in.

  We both agreed that Quinn’s lip piercing makes him too recognizable, and after what happened at the ball, we can’t afford another blunder like that, especially tonight.

  “That’ll never come out,” he grins, referring to his tongue piercing.

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I ask, suddenly feeling heated from head to toe as he slowly pulls my cap off.

  My hair tumbles around my shoulders, and Quinn’s eyes smolder in desire. “Because I wouldn’t be able to do this,” and he lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me wildly.

  I sag into him, and although I miss the feel of his hoop, I love how his barbell is the only piece of metal dominating my mouth. Moaning when his tongue duels with mine, I almost forget we have someplace to be, but a swift knock at the door has us breaking apart, reminding us of our duties.

  “Hey, it’s Tristan,” he says after a moment of silence.

  I hurriedly reach for my discarded hat and Quinn quickly wipes his mouth as he opens the door. “Hey bro,” he says, looking awfully guilty.

  “Hey. Cynthia told me about Polly,” Tristan replies, as I stand behind the door, adjusting my cap.

  Quinn nods, and Tristan continues. “I wanna come help. I feel like it’s my fault.”

  Typical Tristan, always taking the blame. But there is only one person to blame.

  “It’s not your fault,” I say, stepping out from behind the door and into Tristan’s vision.

  The minute he sees me he flinches, and my heart breaks at his cold response. But I play it off as I shrug into my coat. “This is all on Polly. The only person to blame here is her.” I push past both Quinn and Tristan, ready to roll.

  Chapter 27

  Sacrifices

  Thanks to Tristan smashing a rock through the driver’s window, I’m now freezing my ass off. My teeth are chattering and no matter how high I turn up the heat, the cool breeze just blows it away. But I’ll have to endure it, as there’s no way in hell I’m sitting in the back with a scowling Tristan.

  This car ride has got to be the longest in history, and it doesn’t help I’m about to catch pneumonia as Quinn speeds down the deserted road, headed into town. As I reach for the heating and attempt to turn it to full, I realize it’s on the highest temperature it can go.

  “Shit,” I mumble, slumping back into my seat and rubbing my arms.

  The silence is killing me, and I can’t sit still. Not only is it warmer when I move, it also gives me something to do. Quinn has been quite cold and distant toward me, and I know this has got to do with Tristan. It disappoints me that although Tristan knows about us, we still have to behave like we’re not together. I thought once he knew, we could be open about our relationship, but obviously, I thought wrong.

  How Quinn is not an icicle is a mystery to me, but I tell myself to suck it up, as I have a feeling it’ll be a heck of a lot colder in the backseat with Tristan, who hasn’t spoken a word to me. He seems to be totally fine with Quinn, but if I so much as breathe in his direction, he turns his lip up in disgust and looks the other way. I’m guessing the saying, ‘bros before hoes’ may be applicable to this situation.

  Shivering at my inept joke, I pull the lapels of my coat over my face and sink into the hood. My teeth however, are still chattering, and my feet have gone completely numb. At this rate, I’ll be surprised if I return to the USA with all my toes intact.

  Lost in my frostbite nightmare, it takes me a second to realize Quinn is pulling over. Turning to face him, I barely contain my shudder when the cool breeze slaps my cheeks, but by the hard set of his jaw, I know that’s not going to be an issue for long.

  “Get in the back,” he commands, gesturing with his chin to the backseat.

  “I’m fine,” I lie, and stubbornly cross my arms, as I would rather freeze to death than deal with Tristan’s PMSing right now.

  But Quinn reaches over and unfastens my seatbelt, indicating this conversation is not up for discussion. Well, fuck him. I’m not a child, and I most certainly won’t be bossed around like some mindless girlfriend.

  However, as a bug the size of a flyer saucer comes flying into the car, most likely seeking shelter from the minus zero conditions, I quickly kick open my door and dive for the safety of the shoulder. Taking a deep breath, it looks like my decision has been made for me, as there is NO way I am sitting up front with damn bugs using the smashed window as their personal buggy door.

  Huffing in annoyance, I storm over to the backdoor and yank it open. Tristan is looking out his window, but I can see his mouth is tipped up into a small grin—asshole. Slamming the door shut behind me, Quinn puts the car into drive and we’re back onto the highway, hopefully bug free.

  I hate to admit it, but it is a lot warmer back here, and my frostbitten nose and fingers thank me for making the change. But my queasy stomach is definitely not thanking me, as Tristan’s aloof behavior is making me wanna hurl.

  He still won’t face me as he gazes out the window, and I can’t stop myself as I ask, “Are you mad at me?”

  He slowly turns, and looks surprised that I’ve addressed him. I’m not the one with the problem here, he is, and I hate that he won’t talk to me about what’s going on. It’ll be a hell of a lot easier if he just vents, or screams at me, but this silence, it’s killing me. And it’s also pissing me off, as I don’t like to be ignored.

  He sighs as he runs a hand down his face. “No, I’m not mad at you,” he replies, but by the angry look contorting his features, I dare say that’s a lie.

  “Then what’s up? I’d prefer it if we just got everything out into the open, instead of you looking at me like I’m The Antichrist,” I say, my voice slightly lowered as I don’t want Quinn to hear.

  He’s had his turn to talk to Tristan—it’s now my turn.

  “I’m sorry for looking at you like you’re The Antichrist,” Tristan says with a chuckle. I smile, as it’s nice to hear that he’s making a joke. “I just, I dunno. You and Quinn, I…” But he leaves the sentence open, and I can see him mulling over the right thing to say.

  “Tristan, I never meant to hurt you,” I say, and bravely reach out to touch his thigh.

/>   He pulls his leg away quickly, and the movement saddens me, as it was never this way between us in the past. However, I let it go, as I know he needs time to process this revelation, and I’ll give him all the time he needs.

  “Just know that I adore you, and I value your friendship very much. I just want things to go back to the way they were,” I sigh, but as Tristan flinches, I know that’s not probable.

  “Things will never go back to the way they were,” he finally replies, and as I lower my eyes, I realize that by choosing Quinn, I’ve sacrificed my friendship with Tristan.

  “I know, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I hurt you,” I whisper, meeting Quinn’s knowledgeable gaze in the rear-view mirror as he watches our exchange.

  Tristan only scoffs, not believing me, and as he turns to look out the window, I realize that Hank once again was right—we do have to make sacrifices for the people we love.

  I just hope I’m worth it.

  ***

  After the grueling car ride we’re finally here, and I can’t wait to get out and stretch my legs. Reaching above my head, my aching muscles thank me for the movement, and I shake out my legs, ready to do this.

  I can’t wait to get this over with, as being out here makes me nervous. I’ve already spotted a few patrol cars, and I hate to think how many are patrolling the actual venue. Quinn senses my apprehension as he stands in front of me and gently rearranges the peak of my cap so it conceals more of my face.

  “You going to be okay?” he asks, his gentle eyes raking over me.

  “I’ll be fine,” I reply, placing my hood over my head, looking like a total gangster.

  “You stay close to me, all right?” he says with a nod, and I roll my eyes, as we’ve had this discussion five times already.

  But I humor him. “Yes, Quinn, I know. Let’s do this already and get the hell outta here,” I say, turning on my heel, as I’ve had enough procrastinating.

  We’ve parked the car about three blocks away, hoping it remains undetected by the police. This whole situation is incredibly dicey, and one wrong move, it’ll be game over. So we make sure we blend into the shadows, heads bowed, and remaining invisible to partygoers. But the closer we get to the venue, the harder it’s going to be to remain anonymous as there are so many damn potential witnesses here.