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“Shhh… Madness. You’re gonna get us caught.” I glance up at the door, half worried they’ll come bursting through it any minute. We’ll need every extra second we can get if they come home early.
“Sorry.” She bites her lower lip.
“You’re okay. It’s hot as fuck. If we were staying somewhere alone, I’d beg for you to be louder.”
Her eyes flash up to mine, lust written in them and it hits me square in the chest. She leans back then, kissing me softly at first, tentatively like she wants to make sure I don’t mind. So I answer her with a rougher pass of my own lips, my tongue teasing along her lower one while I slide one finger inside her. Her breath catches, and she moans into my mouth when I slide the second in a moment later.
She’s soaking my fingers, and her hips start to rock against the motion of my hand as I pick up my pace, her whole body desperate for me to give her the release she needs so badly. She pulls away, gasping for air, and tucks her head under my chin, breathing against my throat in a way that has me wishing I could feel it against my cock.
“Oh… It feels so good. You’re so good, Quentin.” Her fingers dig into me, and I feel her whole body quiver as she comes hard. It’s one of the hottest experiences of my life, and I can’t quite say why yet. Just that she’s beautiful and sincere. So sweet and easy with the way she talks to me. A strange sort of pride swelling my chest that I gave her something she wanted.
She lifts her head then, a grin painted across her face and her lashes lower. The shyness that had been there before retreats a little in the wake of our joint victory. I smile back at her.
“Sorry if the kissing was too much. I know that wasn’t a part of the deal. You just looked so… kissable?” She laughs.
“If that’s what you like, I’m here for it.” Her grin and her laugh are so infectious.
We both sit up, she rights her clothing, and I give her some space. A moment later though the silence has dragged on, and her lashes lift.
“Do you—is there something I can do for you?”
“I think we just take it slow. See how you feel about this, and if you want to try more tomorrow or something we can.”
“You’re sure?”
The look she gives me, I’d swear the girl wants me. Like if I gave her the go ahead, she might devour me whole. But I need to be careful with her. Pace this out and make sure none of it is rushed because the last thing I want is for her to regret it. Regret me. Because fuck if I don’t suddenly care about how she feels about me.
“I’m sure. We’ve got our room every night for a while yet.” I give her a playful smirk. “You should get some sleep.”
“Okay well… Thank you for… that.” I see the flush rise in her cheeks again as she gets up, moving to the ladder.
“Anytime, Madness.”
She climbs it and soon after I hear the soft sounds of her breathing deeply as she drifts off. Meanwhile, I’m wide-awake staring into the dark abyss. My cock is still dulling from the ache I’m trying to ignore. But it’s the ache that’s moving north, through my chest that has me wondering if I can handle this.
7
Quentin
We’re walking through town,working our way to the grocery store but stopping at half of the little mom-and-pop tourist shops on the way. She’s currently licking her way through a chocolate gelato that has me grinning every time she gets a little on her chin in her exuberance.
“Listen. It’s really freaking good. You need to try it.” She holds it out for me, and I take it from her, taking a small lick and then handing it back.
“It’s pretty damn good.” Watching her was still better.
“Right?” She stops short in her tracks a moment later as we come up on a house in the center of the town, one I assume belonged to someone important a hundred years ago judging by the look of it. “Wow, this is gorgeous.”
I follow her line of sight and nod. There’s a for sale sign in the yard. It’s beautiful. A perfectly manicured lawn, meticulously painted shutters and trim. A wrap-around porch with rocking chairs and planters on it. It’s exactly the kind of home I was jealous of when I was younger and moved around with my mom from place to place. When my old man wouldn’t pay child support and then when he couldn’t because he was behind bars. I dreamt of a home like that one.
“I always wanted one like this.” She’s staring at it fondly. “With the cute little porch out front. And all the little rooms inside. One for a library. One for a sitting room. A fireplace. All cozy.”
“You have a house like that… we’re staying in it.”
She shakes her head. “Not one that’s my parents’. One that’s mine. Theirs are never very cozy anyway. They hate older stuff—anything with character. It’s always massive and modern with them. So big it almost feels empty even when we’re all in it.” Something in the tone of her voice tells me that growing up a Westfield might not always have been the dream I assumed it was.
“I always wanted a house like that too. Or at least I did growing up.”
“Really?” Her eyes light.
