“I want this. Please, Rowan.” Quinn bit her lower lip and lined herself up.
I moved my hand enough that I could help guide her, never losing contact with her clit. My tip rested against her entrance, meeting resistance.
“Rowan, you’re so big,” Quinn panted. “Just give me a minute.”
Though my cock strained and my body screamed at me to move, I gave her a moment to adjust before pushing just enough for her walls to stretch around me.
Chapter 31
Cayden
IcrossedXan’sbridgeand found nothing but white. No room, no us, just a void. And in the middle, a pile of hoodies.
“Cayden?” the pile asked with Quinn’s voice.
A pair of vivid green eyes, sparkling with crystal magic, watched me from under the mound of cloth.
“Quinn?” I asked.
The top of the pile shook, making me think it nodded. Not it. She.
“Where are we?” Quinn asked.
“Fuck if I know,” I responded. “This was supposed to be a meeting that you wanted, apparently.”
The image Xan shared of her posing with her hands in prayer filled my mind. My voice, directing Rowan’s hands, hit me next. It wasn’t just the imagery that made them hot; it was the sharing. I’d grown up in a cult. The Prophet made us believe we were better than everyone else because we prioritized the well-being of the family over our own interests.
The Prophet preached selflessness, but I’d watched brothers die for failing to master his runes, and women break to fit his lies. Xan had no idea if his image of Quinn was something I wanted to see, but it made him happy, so he shared it. Rowan. I didn’t even know where to start with him. He’d somehow picked up on what I wanted and let me experience it on my terms.
That was real, visceral caring, which scared the crap out of me as much as I craved more of it. The catalyst to all of this now sat or stood—I couldn’t even tell—amongst a sea of hoodies waiting for me to give her something real.
“Why are you wearing that?” I asked because judgment was so much easier than honesty.
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “I don’t think I’m in control here. Um, Xan made the room, right?”
I pursed my lips. His magic facilitated the space, but he hadn’t designed this. I opened my mouth to accuse Quinn and shut it before the words could come out. This came from me, a void of nothing.
The pile trembled with Quinn inside. I pulled hoodies free, and with each one, color bled into the void—blue, then yellow, then red.
I got her head to poke out of the pile, and she grinned at me from under a mop of static-filled, frizzy hair. “Hi.”
My heart melted. I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I murmured.
The pile shook again, but my girl was still trapped. “Well, I can breathe, so it's a good start.”
I looked around.
“It’s still a void.” Quinn frowned. “I think the only thing you can do is keep going.”
I bit my lips together and continued. Five hoodies later, one of her creamy bare shoulders appeared in the now purplish light.
My blood heated. What was she wearing under this pile?
Hoodies vanished as I flung them aside. The void shifted wildly—orange, pink, red—until at last it stilled, glowing pale violet against the curve of her chest.
I swallowed hard. Rowan wasn’t here. It was just the two of us in this void that kept changing into every color but mine. I reached down and pulled off the sweater that would expose her breasts, only to find the pile covering her head again.
