Keeping one hand on the phone at her ear, she lowers her eyes and watches herself tug my T-shirt up, baring her stomach and then her breasts. Dark pink nipples point at me, the perfect shape of her soft skin. Plump and flawless. Leaving the shirt just above her tits, she leans back, looking up at me.
I can’t fucking think anymore. “Open your legs…”
She spreads her bent knees, my mouth going dry and dying for the smooth skin inside her thighs.
I groan, “Wider, baby.”
She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and opens her legs more.
“Wider.”
And she opens them so wide, one foot drops off the side of the bed, the other leg still bent. Her body sits in full view, spread eagle with her breasts making me so goddamn hungry.
“You know what to do,” I pant. “I’m watching you.”
Setting her phone on the bed, she leans back on one hand and slides the other inside her panties, and within a minute, her head is falling back and she’s rolling her hips into her fingers.
She doesn’t know that I’ve already seen her do this, but I could watch it a million times.
“Where are you?” she calls out, and I can tell she has me on speaker.
Rising, I gaze at her as I unfasten my jeans. “In the guest room.”
“Tell me what you look like.”
We could video chat, but I love having this view of her. As if I’m sneaking a peek at something she thinks she’s alone for.
I wrap my hand around my cock, stroking the long, hard length. “Just muscle, baby. I look like muscle right now. Everything is hard for you. My whole body.”
I want to drive into her so goddamn much—my fingers, my tongue, my cock…
Taking her panties, I drop down onto the bed and slide them inside my pants, the cool cotton touching my dick.
I moan, slowly and gently stroking them up and down my length.
“Do they feel good?” she asks, rubbing herself.
“They feel like trouble.”
She lets out a little laugh. “Do you have any idea how I would feel?”
“I’ll never know,” I maintain, and I mean it. “I’m not the one for you, Quinn.”
To my surprise, she says, “I know.”
She does? I try to ignore the disappointment—or the aggravation—that she’s so easily put off.
I want her to forget me.
I need her to forget me.
“You can’t quit life in a city like that,” she goes on, “and come back here to Friday nights at the Loop, bake sales, and Fourth of July picnics.” She moans. “And my brothers would never look at you the same, would they?”
I look down, my pre-cum wetting her panties. Fire starts to spill off my skin as my muscles burn.
Would they tell me I couldn’t fucking have her? I know they would. They’ll kill me. But to hear her say it makes it more real.
“I wouldn’t want Madoc to resent you,” she tells me. “I know it won’t be you. It’ll be someone else.”
