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She sighed and pressed against him, pressed against his mouth. She didn’t want to hold anything back. She wanted to experience everything Quinn wanted to give her to the full. And after he’d brought her to the edge again he straightened up to brush himself against her. He teased her with the delicious foretaste of the pleasure to come until she cried out in complaint. His answer to this was to tease her again, drawing himself more slowly this time over each moist and swollen part of her, until she was relaxed enough for him to stretch her with just the tip.
The sensation was so extreme, so good, that when Quinn made to withdraw this time she thrust her hips towards him, claiming him.
The breath shot out of Magenta’s lungs in a rush. She wasn’t even sure if she could take all of him; sensing her shock, Quinn worked some magic with his fingers and, with that and his kisses to distract her, he took control. It was only moments until he inhabited her completely.
Quinn moved and she moved with him, marvelling at the lack of pain, the lack of fear, even though he was stretching her beyond anything she would have imagined possible. He filled her in the most pleasing way, massaging her most effectively, and it wasn’t long before she was working frantically with him towards the inevitable conclusion. Digging her fingers into his buttocks, she pressed her hips down until she was certain that no part of them was left unconnected, and moments later the first spasm hit her. Crying Quinn’s name, she abandoned herself to pleasure, bucking uncontrollably yet registering somewhere in the depths of her mind that her first orgasm with Quinn had just been utterly eclipsed.
It took ages for her to recover and ages for the delicious little aftershocks of extreme pleasure to subside. Quinn rested deep inside her, waiting until he judged her sufficiently recovered, and then he began to move. Rolling his hips slowly from side to side, he brought the hunger back again and the next climax hit her before she even knew it was building. Screaming out his name, she thrust her hips convulsively while Quinn held her firmly in place, making sure she enjoyed every moment of it.
‘You’re spoiling me,’ she managed groggily as he moved to take her again.
‘We’re only getting started,’ Quinn assured her. ‘I’m taking the edge off your hunger.’
‘Taking the edge off!’ Magenta laughed, but Quinn confirmed his intentions, dropping kisses on her swollen lips. ‘And when I’ve done that,’ he said, ‘just as I promised I would, I’m going to make love to you.’
‘Haven’t we been doing that?’
Quinn’s laugh was low and sexy. ‘Come on, Magenta,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘We both know that neither of us is cut out for a diet of canapés.’
As Quinn was already moving deep inside her she had no intention of arguing with that. Holding her secure in his arms, Quinn was rocking her. ‘Harder,’ she begged him greedily. ‘Take me faster, Quinn.’ Then speech was no longer possible. ‘Hold me!’ she cried out in the last few ecstatic moments.
Cupping her buttocks firmly, Quinn kept her in position as she thrust her fists against his chest. She needed something to brace herself against as her mind was ripped from her body and flung into a world of unimaginable colour and sensation. She explored it to the full, knowing that when she finally quietened Quinn would be waiting to soothe her with reassurances that she was safe.
This was definitely the way forward, Magenta decided, practically purring with contentment as she woke slowly the following morning, thankfully still in the sixties, in Quinn’s huge bed. They had made love through the night and only dawn had interrupted them. At the first faint glimmer of light, Quinn had sprung up and left her side.
Her heart filled when he returned from taking a shower. It was no use pretending this was anything casual. She couldn’t get enough of him—and no wonder. With a towel slung around his hips like a loin cloth, Quinn was quite a sight to wake up to in the morning. He was the full package, she reflected contentedly, easing her sated limbs. Quinn had the body of a gladiator and a mind like a steel trap. He was funny and tender, and had an appetite for sex that knew no bounds. He was the dream lover.
She could so easily make a habit of this, Magenta mused as he strolled towards the bed, drying his wayward hair on a towel.
‘It’s time to get up.’
‘Already?’ she complained.
‘Work?’ Quinn reminded her.
‘Work?’ she echoed without any of her usual enthusiasm. ‘Can’t we stay here a little longer?’ For the first time in her life, there was something a lot more important than work—such as being with Quinn. Gazing up into his face, she only found it disappointingly resolute.
