She’d looked torn, confused, still upset from the way the night had turned on us.
London wore a knowing expression as she said to her roommate, “I’ll be fine if you want to go.”
“We need to talk,” I’d insisted.
Taran had nodded, still not seeming a hundred percent certain.
Now here she was, her perfume tickling my senses as the breeze drifted through her hair.
Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about Eoghan or any of this.
I just wanted inside her. I wanted to feel close to her again.
I wanted to feel like she belonged to me.
As soon as I’d seen her in the Lantern, the memories of our night in Oban tormented me, making it hard to concentrate on our set list. While we played, I watched her constantly, tracing the curve of her cheek with my eyes, her lips, her elegant fingers as they wrapped around the glass of her drink. Last Saturday she’d wrapped those fingers around my dick and we’d both watched as she stroked me to the point of exploding before I’d flipped her on her stomach and fucked her from behind.
It had been a battle all night to restrain those memories, and I was glad for the snare drum that hid my hardening dick.
“It wasn’t Eoghan behind the Oban attack.” Taran finally broke the tense silence between us.
I tried to push through the swarm of desire fogging my brain. “Of course it was.” I tightened my grip on her. “He just won’t admit it because colluding to kidnap is a heftier offense. Leth Sholas Police would charge him, and he’d see the inside of a prison cell.”
As it was, Eoghan was sobering up in one of their small holding cells and would face prosecution for dangerous driving and vandalism.
I hoped like hell he’d leave Glenvulin for good after that.
“You think?”
“Aye, I do. But can we talk about it later?” I shoved my keys in my door, reluctantly releasing her hand to do so.
“I thought that was why I was here. To talk?”
My answer was to pull her inside the house and crush my mouth down over hers, using our bodies to close the front door.
Taran gasped into my kiss, the sound taking my arousal through the roof. She tasted like the gin and tonic she’d had in the bar. She smelled of something citrusy and floral. She felt … perfect.
Her fingers curled in my hair, tugging on the strands as she moved us backward into my hallway. Feeling out of control, I pressed her against the wall, wanting inside her. Now.
My lips were hungry on hers, my hands eager on her body, and as I felt her tug on the zipper of my jeans, my balls drew up so tight I hissed into her mouth.
She yanked it down and slipped her hand inside to grip my dick confidently and pull it free of my underwear.
“Fuck …” I panted against her lips. “Taran, fuck, aye.”
Her eyes were glazed with lust. “Does it feel good, Quinn?”
“You know it fucking does,” I growled as I frantically unzipped her jeans, my fingers hooking into the waistband of those and her underwear as I shoved them down. Taran’s breathing was as harsh as mine as she kicked off her shoes and fumbled to get the legs of her jeans off too. While she did that, I quickly pulled a condom out of my wallet and sheathed my erection.
As soon as she was free of her clothing, I hooked her right leg around my hip and pushed inside her perfect, tight, wet heat.
Whatever else she denied, she couldn’t deny that she wanted this, me. I grunted, gritting my teeth against the need to come as Taran panted, gripping onto my biceps as she relaxed around my dick.
I bent my knees and thrust.
“Quinn!” she cried, her head falling back, her fingernails digging into my arms. “Harder, harder.”
I grunted in pleasure as I fucked her against my hallway wall. Taran let out another harsh cry, slapping her hand back against the plasterboard as if to brace herself. She hit one of the familyphotos and it fell, the sound of its dull thud on the floor mingling with our sex sounds.
