I rolled my eyes to cover the quake in my chest. “You gonna stand there or?—”
His mouth cut me off, trailing down my stomach, lower, until his tongue pressed into me and my legs flew open.
“Oh, fuck.” The sound ripped out of me, my hands clutching at the his scalp while his mouth claimed my pussy.
He ate me like rhythm—tongue and lips working a cycle that stole my breath. Flick. Suck. Pressure. Over and over, dragging me higher until I was begging and breaking in the same breath.
“Quentin,” I gasped, thighs shaking around his head.
“Look at me,” he murmured against me.
And when I did—when his eyes locked mine while his mouth wrapped my clit—I shattered. My body jerked,mouth open, crying out while he stayed on me, relentless, working me through every last tremor until I was trembling and ruined.
I collapsed back, panting, slick and undone. He kissed my thigh, then crawled up slow, heavy, settling between my legs like he belonged there.
“You good?” His voice was gravel and velvet.
“I’m not done,” I whispered, tugging at his waistband with shaking fingers.
His laugh was low, dark, vibrating against my chest. He reached for the drawer. My eyes followed every move—his hands tearing the wrapper, rolling the condom down his thick length like he knew I was watching. My pussy clenched just from the sight.
When he came back over me, I was already trembling. He kissed me hard, lined up, and pushed in slow. Too slow. Every inch stretched me until I cried out and clung to him. My body gripped him like I was made for it. His groan broke against my mouth, eyes locked on mine, dark and certain, seeing me even as he split me wide.
“Relax, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing mine.
I exhaled, and he slid deeper. Whole. Full. My chest arched into his.
At first, his strokes were controlled—deep, exact, like he was still trying to count them. My nails dug into his working back, pulling him harder, faster, until the sound of his hips filled the room.
“Harder,” I gasped, biting his shoulder.
His jaw flexed. He gave it to me. Brutal, deep thrusts that had me crying out, nipples scraping his chest, sweatslick between us. He pinned me with his weight, teeth at my neck, sucking until I whimpered.
“Don’t let go of me,” he groaned, body pounding into mine.
I came hard, screaming, my pussy clutching him. He lost it, driving into me like he couldn’t stop, hips snapping back and forth until his growl shook through me. He spilled into the rubber, hot and rough, the sound of him falling apart almost as filthy as the act itself.
We collapsed, tangled, breath ragged, the air thick with sex and heat. My body throbbed like a live wire, every nerve lit.
I told myself not to read into it. Not to mistake this for more than a night. But when he kissed my forehead and whispered, “Told you I don’t do restraint,” the lie burned in my throat.
Because I wanted more. And I knew I was already in trouble.
Chapter 4
Aftershocks
Iwoke tangled in sheets that didn’t belong to me.
The air was thick with sweat and sex, faintly sweet from detergent clinging to his pillowcase. My body felt languid, like every inch of me had been pulled inside out and left pulsing. I stretched, winced, and almost laughed at myself.
Reckless.
That was the word.
I’d lost track of how many times we reached forcondoms. Twice. Three times. Enough to know we should’ve stopped when we ran out. But we hadn’t. Not the last time. The memory made me flinch, a quick wince that passed through me as fast as his hands had moved across my skin.
We’d talked on the ride here—STI panels, clean bills, trust we didn’t have time to second-guess. And I wasn’t ovulating. I knew my cycle. Still, I hadn’t been that careless in years.
