Once the bath is filled with warm water, I shut it off and pour in some bubble bath product.
Placing the vibrator on the edge of the tub, I lower myself into it and moan as the warmth seeps into me.
Once I adjust to the water, I trail my hands from my thighs up until I reach my breasts that have grown, because where I used to be able to cup one in my hand, now I can’t.
Tugging on my nipples makes me moan as I tip my head back, and I reach for the vibrator, turning it on.
I rub it against my clit, making me gasp at the sensation. Everything feels heightened and sensitive, mixed with my overactive libido, which is currently like nothing I’ve experienced.
Images of Quentin come into my mind, enhancing the pleasure coursing through me. Him shirtless. Him breathing raggedly as I ride him. Him gazing at me like I’m the center of his world.
I probably shouldn’t get off to the image of the father of my child, who I have a strict pact with to keep things friendly. But the ache growing between my thighs doesn’t give a fuck.
It needs relief and right now, those images are doing it for me.
My breathing turns shallow as I imagine Quentin on his knees, his tongue right where I have the vibrator. I feel my orgasm looming, my body beginning to tighten as I get closer and closer.
So I continue rubbing the vibrator against my clit as I imagine filthy scenario after filthy scenario with the one person I shouldn’t be thinking about.
But it works, and seconds later, I’m coming so hard that I nearly black out as I moan wildly, my body giving in to the insane pleasure coursing through my veins.
I don’t think I’ve ever made myself comethathard or quickly. It just proves how much I needed this release and how worked up my body has been lately.
Once I’ve come down from the high, I place the vibrator back on the edge with the intention to clean it after.
For now, I’m going to soak up this elated feeling and rest.
And ignore the feeling of guilt for getting off to fantasies of the father of my child when I most certainly shouldn’t be.
Chapter 27
Teagan
“Oh my God,” I moan as I chew on the homemade spinach ravioli that Quentin prepared yesterday.
“That good?” Quentin asks, eyes gleaming with pride across the island as he watches me eat. He finished eating minutes ago, and when he went to clean up our dishes, I dashed after him into the kitchen, stealing my bowl back for another serving.
I nod enthusiastically as I swallow, then say, “It might be my favorite thing that you’ve ever made. Whenever you retire, I think this is your calling.”
It’s not my business to pry, but I wonder if it’s something he’s considering or what the story is there.
Quentin stiffens at my words, and I instantly try to backtrack. “Not that you’re old or anything, or that you need to retire. You’re amazing on the mound.”
He loosens slightly at that, not seeming as stiff since his lips form a crooked grin as he stands. “Two compliments in under two minutes? Are you sick?”
“Shut up.” I chuckle, shoving the last bite into my mouth. He takes my bowl without a word, rinses it, and puts it in the dishwasher. I can tell he’s changing the subject, but I go along with it.
A phone ringing interrupts my thoughts as Quentin pulls his phone out and answers with, “Pauly, what’s up?”
I make my way to the kitchen table to give him some privacy, where our half-finished puzzle lies.
The mountain is semi-finished, with the landscape mostly missing because all of the pieces are green. How the hell am I supposed to finish this when they all look the same?
While I’ve been having fun doing this with Quentin, I don’t think it’s a hobby I’d ever do by myself.
Moments later, Quentin sits next to me at the table just as I find the missing piece.
I shoot the puzzle the middle finger as I laugh deviously. “Ha! Take that, puzzle.”
