“For picking your lock.” He pressed his lips against my inner thigh. “For showing up uninvited.” The other thigh. “For making you feel like I was trying to control you.” A kiss right above where I needed him, close but not there. “And for being right about everything I just said, which I know pissed you off the most.”
“You are so?—”
His tongue made contact and the sentence died. He licked me slow, one deliberate stroke that started low and dragged upward with just enough pressure to make my hips lift off the cushion. He pressed them back down with one hand flat on my stomach.
“Mmm.” He hummed against me like he was tasting something he’d been thinking about all day. “There she is. My pretty little peach.”
“Don’t call me?—”
“Shhh.” Another lick, this one firmer, his tongue flat and wide against my pussy. “This is my peach. And I missed her.” He circled my clit with the tip of his tongue, slow and teasing. “Did you miss me?”
I didn’t answer because answering would mean admitting that I’d thought about his mouth every single night since the last time and I was not giving him that satisfaction.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to say it.” He sucked my clit into his mouth gently and I gripped the armrest so hard the leather creaked. “Your body’s already telling me everything I need to know.”
He was right. My body was a traitor. My thighs were trembling, my back was arching, and I was already wet enough that I could hear the sounds his mouth was making against me, slick and obscene and absolutely devastating.
“You taste even better than last time,” he murmured between strokes. “I been thinking about this pussy all week, Peach. Couldn’t concentrate in meetings. Couldn’t sleep. Kept remembering how you sounded when you came for me.” He slid his tongue inside me and my hand flew to his head. “Yeah, pull my hair. I like when you do that. Means I’m hitting the right spot.”
“Quest—”
“That’s it. Say my name just like that.” He went back to my clit and changed the rhythm, faster now, more focused, zeroing in on exactly where I needed him. “You know what drives me crazy about you? Everything. Your smart mouth. Your attitude. The way you fight me on everything and then melt when I putmy mouth on you. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful when you let go, Mehar. You know that?”
I was losing the ability to form words. His tongue was relentless, alternating between long, slow strokes that made my toes curl and tight, fast circles on my clit that made my stomach clench. And he kept talking, kept praising, his voice low and vibrating against my most sensitive skin.
“Good girl. Just like that. You’re doing so good for me. Let me hear you.”
A moan escaped me that I would’ve been embarrassed about in any other context. He groaned in response like my pleasure was feeding his.
“That sound right there. That’s my favorite sound in the whole world.” He gripped my thighs tighter and buried his face deeper and I felt the orgasm building from that same deep place it had come from last time, rising through my center like a tide that was going to pull me under.
“I’m close,” I gasped. “Quest, I’m so close?—”
“I know, Peach. I can feel you tightening up. Don’t hold it. Give it to me. I want all of it.” He sucked my clit hard and flicked his tongue against it at the same time and my whole body seized up. “Come for me, beautiful. Let go. I got you. I always got you.”
I came apart. The orgasm crashed through me in waves that made my legs shake and my back bow off the sofa and my hand pull his hair hard enough to make him groan. He didn’t stop, just slowed down, gentling his tongue through the aftershocks, kissing me softly, easing me back to earth one stroke at a time.
When I could see straight again, he was looking up at me from between my thighs with slick lips and dark eyes and the most satisfied expression I’d ever seen on a man’s face.
“Apology accepted?” he asked.
“I hate you.”
“You keep saying that.” He kissed the inside of my thigh. “But your body keeps disagreeing.”
He stood up and handed me my leggings from the floor like a gentleman who hadn’t just had his face between my legs on my living room sofa.
“Get dressed. I’m taking you to dinner.”
“You think you can just?—”
“Mehar.”
“What.”
“Get dressed. Wear something pretty. I’ll be in the car.” He stepped into the bathroom to freshen up first. Then came back. He kissed my forehead, grabbed his jacket off the floor, and walked out of my apartment leaving me sitting on my sofa half-naked with shaking legs and the faint understanding that I had lost this argument in the most devastating way possible.
I sat there for a full minute. Then I got up, took a shower, did my makeup, put on a dress, and went downstairs to get in the Maybach. Because apparently that’s what I do now. Fight with Quest Banks and then go to dinner with him like he didn’t just ruin me on my own furniture.
