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He sighs, nodding. “Yeah, totally. Never again.”
Why don’t I believe him? And why does that sound sarcastic?
We move in silence, his soft pants beside me, our arms brushing occasionally as we climb. And each time,each time,something indescribable zips through me.
I need to get a grip, like a major one. Because there is no way,no way,that I am messing around with Quinn Quillen on this trip.
My son would kill me.
ChapterThree
Quinn
God, look at those legs. The way his thigh muscles bunch and flex as he moves up the stairs,ngh.
And that ass. That tight, round ass. I want to slide my dick inside of it.
I am horny as fuck just looking at him walk. The next two weeks are going to be pure torture living in a small, enclosed space with him. Seeing him, breathing him in.
Just being near him.
He’s been my fantasy foryears.
His strong legs, broad shoulders, and scruffy, masculine face.
He’s been my jackoff fodder since I realized I was bisexual. The moment I laid eyes on him, that was it. I have always wanted Greyson Hart fiercely and now I’m alone with him.
Alone.
And I’m finally nineteen.
The things we could do now that I’m of age.
“Right up here,” he says, his breath coming out in little puffs.
Shit, those sounds. I adjust myself again, my hard dick not going down. Not at all. Because I know things about Grey, things I shouldn’t…things that I really have no right to.
The night after they broke up, Kevin came into the pub where I bus tables and drunkenly spilled some little facts about Grey, and…well, they’ve only managed to make me hornier for him.
We come to a stop on the small lookout, and I press against Grey once more, craving the feel of him against me, of that hair on his arm slightly abrading my own.
He’s hairier than me. Manly. I’ve seen him once with his shirt off and almost busted a nut in my jeans.
I want to run my fingers through it, want to bury my face in it, want to inhale him.
I am so far gone, it’s not even funny.
Grey shifts next to me, and I clench my hands into fists, not wanting to scare him away. Placing my hand on his stomach moments ago was otherworldly.
I want to do it again, just reach under the fabric and run my hand along his skin, but I need to give him time. Let him come to terms with the fact this is happening.
He and I.
Or maybe, I just need to take it. Fuck waiting. Fuck wasting any more time.
“What do you think?” he asks, turning those amber-brown eyes on me, and I just stare at him, taking him in.
Fuck. He is so damn hot. I want to sink to my knees right now and mouth at his crotch like an animal.
