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I do just that, moving my hair out of the way so he can clasp the necklace together. Once on, I whirl around and face him again. His gaze moves from the necklace, which rests perfectly against my chest and back up to my eyes.
“All right, I’m done being mushy…” His voice trails off, and his hands find my hips, his thumbs hook into the sides of my leggings. “I’m famished, and I’ve got an appetite for something only you can offer me.”
The way he’s looking at me right now, like he wants to devour me whole and not stop till I’m begging him to, should terrify me, but it doesn’t. Quinton has been the only constant in my life since I arrived here, the only person to help me, the only person to give a shit about me. Even with how unconventional and wrong the start of our relationship was—if you could even call it that.
Yes, our love was born from hate, but aren’t the best love stories born in some type of tragedy? Is it really love if you don’t have to fight for it to some degree?
“Hey!” Quinton’s voice pulls me back to the present, his luminous gaze bleeding into mine. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” I can see the wheel spinning in his mind. He thinks he’s moving too fast; he doesn’t realize the only person to replace all the bad memories in my mind is him.
“Don’t. Don’t stop. Don’t apologize. I want you to make me forget. Replace the bad with good,” I whisper against his lips.
My approval is all he needs, and in a second flat, he has the door closed. Together, we both tug at my leggings to get the stupid fabric off. I let out a gasp when he picks me up by the hips, crosses the room, and places me on the table.
With a valiant effort, he slowly nudges my knees apart, and I let out a hiss as the cold air kisses the wet seam of my panties.
“Are you wet for me, Aspen?” He questions, his voice serious. He doesn’t even have to ask. The evidence is plain as day.
“I want you,” I whimper, reaching for him. He shakes his head.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you….”
This isn’t our first time together, nor is it the first time he’s made me beg for him to do something, but this feels different. Intimate. Like he’s wanting me to lead the way. His fingers trail up and down my thighs. The sensation gives me goose bumps, but after a moment, a thought pops into my mind. How could he want me after they used my body? After they broke me like they did?
“Don’t think about them. They have no right to be inside your mind. It’s only us. Only me. Focus on my touch.” Quinton’s soft voice fills my ears, and his hot breath fans against my face. How is he so intuitive of my thoughts? I fist his shirt in my hands, wishing the stupid fabric wasn’t there.
“Touch me,” I urge, the desire for something more pooling low in my belly.
“Where? With what?”
I pull away and look up at him, my eyebrow raised. He grins down at me because we both know that he knows what I want.
“You’re going to have to do better than that. Use your words.”
I lick my suddenly dry lips, my cheeks heating at the thoughts running rampant in my mind.
“I want you to use your mouth and fingers on me.”
I feel the bulge in his jeans, feel his arousal for me. I want him. The need pulses through me with every beat of my heaving heart.
“And where do you want me to put my mouth and fingers?” he whispers into the shell of my ear, his fingers still trailing against my thigh. I shiver, my nipples harden inside my bra, becoming painfully stiff peaks. I reach out, take his hand, and guide it between my thighs, all while leaning back against the wall.
His palm presses against my core, and I buck my hips forward, an onslaught of sensations working through me.
Quinton looks up at me, his thick lashes fan against his cheek as he smiles. “That was beautiful. I can’t wait to see you come apart on my tongue and for your juices to drip down my chin.”
I clench around nothing, my skin flush, my pulse thundering in my ears. I need him to touch me, or I’m pretty sure I might die.
Licking his lips, he traces the seam of my panties before moving his hands upward, dipping his fingers into the waistband of my panties.
I lift my ass and watch as he slowly pulls them down my legs, his dark eyes on me every second. My panties fall to the floor, and his fingers dig into my hips, pulling me to the edge of the table.
