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I grasp him and hold him to me, licking my way into his mouth, desperate for him again.
But he doesn’t give me relief, he just teases me until I’m whining again. Then he tortures me some more by running his hands across my body, washing me.
“Please,” I nearly beg. Once wasn’t enough, and I’m desperate for more.
But he doesn’t give in, despite my begging. Instead, he rinses us off, turns the shower off, and steps out.
I’m just left standing, dripping wet and hard as a fucking rock as he dries off casually, like this was no big deal. Well, this might be news to you, Quinn, but my dick thinks this is a big fucking deal. It’s feeling ignored.
“Come on, Grey,” he says, holding out a towel to me. His eyes slip to my hard, straining cock for a second, so I know he sees it. He knows how desperate it is.
But I don’t mention it. I just take the towel from him, my words lodged in my throat, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s punishing me. If he’s drawing out my torture for not making him stay. I probably deserve it, if I’m being honest.
I follow him into the bedroom, holding my towel over my crotch as he throws on his pants and opens the bedroom door, letting Winter in.
Winter blinks up at us with his sad eye, and I feel guilty for leaving him outside the bedroom for so long. But then again, I couldn’t have him watching—gets a little creepy at that point.
But I guess that since Quinn let him in, it means I’m not getting anything more tonight. I bite back a sigh of disappointment and pull on some boxers. But I’m not gonna complain. I’m just happy he’s here. With me.
Quinn kneels down, his hands on Winter’s head as he coos at the dog, and my heart just floods with yearning for him.
I want him so damn bad.
I don’t know how he managed to turn me into this needy man, but he did. I need him. Iwanthim. I don’t want to go another day without him. I just don’t know what to do about my son. I don’t know how to repair what I’ve broken.
That’s life though, right? We just fumble about, trying to make the right decisions. Sometimes we get it right and sometimes we don’t. I just fucking hate it when I get it wrong. I feel like such a failure. I feel like a failure a lot.
It seems I got this thing with Quinn all fucking wrong when I let him walk away from me. I just don’t know how to move forward with him. I don’t know how to do this.
“He missed you,” I say, and Quinn glances up at me, his wet hair sticking to his cheeks.
“Yeah, I missed him too.”
I wet my lips, feeling suddenly nervous and not quite sure how to bring this up.
“You, uh, you can take him anytime you want.”
Quinn’s brows meet and he stands up, his arms folding across his chest.
And I just stand there with my hard dick, feeling suddenly so exposed.
“Is that so?” he asks, his words biting.
What the fuck did I say wrong? I scramble to figure it out as he narrows his gaze even further.
“Um, yes?” I ask and then blink a few times, trying to unscramble my brain. I mean, it’s not really my fault. All the blood is in my groin right now. I can’t be held responsible.
He lets his arms unfold and he takes a step toward me. One. Two. Until he’s right in front of me.
His green eyes are stormy as he watches me—really peers right the fuck into my soul—and I start to squirm.
“Was this just a quick fuck for you?” he bites out, and I swallow.
“Wh—?”
“Was that what this was? Because if that’s all this was, then I’m gonna go.”
“I’m…what? I was just talking about Winter,” I say, my voice cracking a bit.
