“Deal,” he said, giving her a small smirk. “No kissing. No feelings. Just friends, trying to survive.”
Delaynie nodded again. “Just friends,” she repeated, the sound nearly a squeak.
That sound shook something loose inside Quentin. Something feral and hungry and insatiable. Something that wanted to devour coconut and vanilla until it was all he could ever taste again.
He also was keenly aware of where they were. Of how too easily wandering eyes could drift their way.
Unfortunately for them, he had no intention of sharing this with anyone else.
He pushed back further into the bench, adjusting his grip over Delaynie’s hip so he could hold the material of her dress closed. The shift slid her down, placing her body more firmly on his lap.
Her eyes widened when her ass met the hard length of his cock. He swallowed the hiss that threatened to push past his teeth.
“No need to read into it,” he murmured, lips ghosting over her ear. He smiled when she shivered. “It’s just physical. Like you said, it doesn’t have to mean anything. I’m sure your body is responding the same way.”
“It is?”
Quentin chuckled. “Have you never touched yourself, little wolf?”
She shook her head.
Fucking gods, he was so fucked.
“You never talked to your mother or Mariah about these things?”
“I know what sex is, Quentin.”
“There’s that bite.” He smiled again. “But that’s good. Certainly a start. I think for now, we’ll start slow. How does that sound?”
Finally, she nodded.
He moved his thumb again on her thigh, relishing in her soft jump. “Perfect. So…can I touch you?”
Her grip in his hair tightened. “Yes,” she breathed out.
Thankfuck.
His hand slid slowly up her thigh, slipping under the silky fabric of her dress. He found the lacy outline of her underwear, savoring the gasp that slipped past her teeth.
“What color are these, little wolf?”
She drew in a shuddering breath. “Black.”
He couldn’t silence his groan. “Absolutely perfect.” He lightly dragged his finger over her center, the delicate lace tantalizingly soft. “Even through them I can feel how wet you are. Do you want me to show you?”
Delaynie mewled softly and nodded again.
Quentin slipped a finger under the seam of the lace. Gods, for a moment he feared he would pass out. She was so warm and wet and soft, and he bet she tasted just as sweet?—
“Quentin.” His name on her lips was a whine, a siren’s call that he couldn’t resist even if he wanted to.
He started slow, teasing and exploring her. She twisted in his arms, burying her face into the crook of his neck, squirming over his lap.
That friction against his aching cock, combined with the feel of her…
His grip on her hip tightened. “Try to stay still, little wolf. Or else you’re going to drive me mad.”
She froze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It just feels…”
