Page 87 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“He also loves that he’ll never run into anyone he knows at Freeway Bowl,” she adds.

“Freeway Bowl,” I echo, shaking my head and taking another sip.

Then I smile at her. Quinn’s cheeks are pink from the heat of the water and the wine. And as much as I find her father a strange man, I find her utterly fascinating and enticing and…irresistible.

Chapter 35

Reid

I helpQuinn out of the tub, both of us quiet. There’s no need for words because we both know where this is going. She shudders as we enter the yurt again, and I will admit it’s a bit chilly, especially in contrast to the hot tub. So I do the thing that makes the most sense, considering she is shivering and we are already wet. I guide her into the bathroom. Into the shower.

It’s a small shower compared to hotel suites or, say, my home. But for a glorified camping tent, it’s not too bad. Big enough for two people. If they stand very close together, which we fully intend to do.

Quinn starts to take off her suit, but I stop her. I want to do it myself.

She stands there, her eyes wild and hungry as she stares up at me through the steam swirling between us. I tug on the strings of her top and it falls loose, exposing her perfect, perky breasts. I want to cup them. I want to pull her towards me. I want to devour her with the urgency and hunger of a wolf that hasn’t eaten in days. But I also want to enjoy her slowly, like a piece of cake. Slowly. Savoring.

I go with the latter and simply run my fingertips along her collarbones, down the swell of her breasts, around the curve of her nipples. They harden immediately, and she shudders. I run my fingertips down her sides to her hips. She giggles softly at the contact. Then I tug the strings of her bikini bottoms loose and let them fall to the floor, exposing the rest of her. Her perfect ass. Her dainty pussy.

I want her.

I want all of her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

But again, I am in no hurry.

I watch her expression as I touch her with my thumb, pressing it between her warm, wet lips, running it down to her clit, teasing for a moment before going further down, flickering it over her opening. Her lips part and her cheeks pinken more with every millimeter.

Then I drop my swim trunks to the floor. My hard, erect cock springs free and I take it in my hand, stroking it once, twice…my eyes on Quinn’s the entire time. She watches as I step closer, pressing the tip of my dick against her, tracings circles against her mound, rubbing against her with just enough pressure to ignite a fire under her skin. With my other hand, I cup one of her breasts, running my thumb over her nipple again.

Quinn quivers and whimpers, reaching up to place her hands on my shoulders. Needing to stabilize herself. Needing so much more.

I take her hand in mine and pull her into the shower. We step under the water and I pull her against me, kissing her deeply. There is no reserve in the kiss. I work my jaw to open hers, tasteevery inch of her, to find her tongue with mine, to nibble her lips and suck on them and make every piece of her mine.

I don’t remember the last time I felt this way.

Or if I ever truly have.

I can tell just by the way she is arching into me, rubbing her naked, wet body against mine that she needs more. But I’m not ready to speed things up. Not yet. So I continue to kiss her, relishing in the simplicity of it for as long as I can, as long as we can stand.

But Quinn comes to her tiptoes and presses her pussy against the base of my dick. And while most of the nerve endings with the potential to end me are located about 8 inches higher than that, it stokes the flames that are starting to build, enough so that it becomes very obvious we both need to move on.

I lift her leg up to allow more nerve endings to be met, and she grinds against me. But one thing is clear: as we attempt to have stand-up shower sex, our height differences are a bit of a barrier here. Quinn is all of maybe five foot three-ish and a hundred and twenty pounds at most. And I, on the other hand, am six foot four, two hundred and twenty pounds of earned muscle and nothing else. That said, I can bench press two-fifty, so I’m not seeing a challenge here.

I pick her up in my arms, and she does her best to wrap her legs around my torso. It’s not easy when she’s short and my torso is thick, but I take advantage of the shower’s tight quarters and press her against the wall. Then I stroke my cock a couple more times (not that it needs it, it’s been no softer than granite since we stepped into the shower) and slowly press it inside her.

Quinn gasps.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” she breathes with a smile. “I just…”

I arch an eyebrow, and she bites her lip.

“Are you sure we can do this?”

I chuckle at that. “Am I sure we can do this? Oh, sweetheart…”

With that, I drive my hips upward, thrusting myself deeper inside her. Quinn gasps again, but this time the sound is one of pleasure, not surprise.