“Yep. Great.” I hop off the table and start searching for my clothes.
Quinn doesn’t say a word, but I can feel his eyes on me as I dress. Normally, I’d clean up a bit more and use the restroom, but now isn’t the time. I need him to leave. Why? Because all I can think about is doing it again, and this was just a one-time deal.
Scratching an itch and all that…
By the time I’ve stalled enough in dressing and turn to face him, I find Quinn leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. He’s completely dressed, which probably didn’t take long considering he only had to pull his pants up and find his T-shirt. I’m sure he could use some time in a restroom, cleaning up, but I’m not offering it.
“Well, uh…thanks.”
His eyebrows shoot up as a smug little grin spreads across his kissable lips. “Uh…you’re welcome.”
I roll my eyes and move to my cabinet behind the door to grab some cleaning products. That’s when I realize the door itself is still standing open. I can’t believe I just had sex with Quinn on my massage table, and not only that, but I did it with my studio door standing wide open. If Jenn or Lila stopped by to grab something, they would have gotten more than they bargained for. Thankfully it’s not in direct view of the front windows either. That would really give the old biddies something to pray about at church next Sunday.
“Let me,” Quinn says, pushing off the doorjamb and grabbing the cleaner.
“I got it,” I insist, ripping the cleaning wipes out of his hand.
He sighs and crouches down on the floor. “It’s my cum all over the place, at least let me get the majority of it,” he grumbles, snatching the wipes out of my hand when I’m not expecting it.
I exhale deeply before spinning around and retrieving the small garbage can in the corner of the room. He wipes up the mess, tossing the used wipes in the trash, while I take a few fresh wipes and clean the table well. The last thing I want is to leave my ass print and pecker tracks where I do business five days a week.
“I think that’s good,” I state, tossing the wipes in the trash and turning to face Quinn.
He’s standing behind me and nods when our gazes lock. I refuse to look away, even though I’m tempted to do so. The intensity in his eyes makes me want to squirm. “What now?”
Lifting my chin, I reply, “Now I go home so I can do laundry.”
He crosses his arms, and my vision is drawn to the way his shirt pulls tautly across his chest. “And this was just…”
“Fun. Release. A one-time thing.”
“And when I see you next time, I’m not supposed to think about the way you came on my cock?” he asks, not an ounce of hurt or confusion in his question.
I swallow hard, already knowing I’m going to be replaying our little tryst every night until I’m old and senile and finally forget the dirty details. “What you think about is on you,” I state, stepping around him and flipping off the light for the studio. When he follows me out, I lock the door and pull it firmly closed.
Turning to face him once more, I square my shoulders and add, “This was just two people who needed?—”
“An orgasm,” he states, interrupting me.
I nod. “Yes. An Orgasm. Now that it’s done, that’s it. It was a one-time deal.”
“Hit it and quit it?” he asks, fighting a grin.
“Exactly. A hump and dump.”
This time he laughs, and holy shit, I feel the vibrations all the way down to my clit. It starts to throb, ready for a little more attention. But I ignore that needy bitch, because taking off my pants and demanding a repeat is not going to happen.
Ever.
“Well, I’m not going to argue with you, Charli. I knew what this was before you had your hands down my pants.”
I swallow hard and nod a little too stiffly. “Yeah, just…a friend helping another friend.”
He grins a carefree little smirk that makes him look so much older than I give him credit for. Quinn may be younger than me by five years, but he’s all man. He proved it in my studio not fifteen minutes ago.
“I’m, uh, glad we’re on the same page,” I state, picking at an invisible piece of fuzz on my shirt. “And let’s just keep this between us.” I look up in time to see his eyebrow arch. “I just don’t think we need to be sharing this. With…you know.”
My brother.
