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“Doesn’t matter.” One hand disappeared from the headboard and curved over her breast, then snaked down her stomach and lower still. The ringing continued, but when he touched her clit, Lori let her thoughts go.
“Ah!” she cried, as Quinn surged deep and rolled small circles over the perfect spot. “Oh, God. Oh, Quinn.”
There was no way she could come again so fast and she should tell him not to bother, but Lori’s tongue refused to form the words. He was taking her harder again. Harder. Harder.
Lori straightened her arms and pushed back, taking more of him. “Oh, God,” she groaned, concentration pinging back and forth between his lovely fingers and his lovely cock. And before she knew it, the impossible happened. She came again. Screaming.
When her screams died to whimpers, Quinn gave up all pretense of finesse. He grabbed her hips in a brutal grip and fucked her hard. As his hips spasmed against her and Quinn groaned, muscles stiffening, Lori let her forehead fall to the pillow.
She’d done it.
She’d had dirty, meaningless, mindless sex. And she’d done it really, reallywell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HER SWEAT-SLICK BODYwas pressed against his side when he came back to life. She lay facedown on her pillow. Quinn was flat on his back, panting. His body felt strange. Wrung out with physical exhaustion, yet buoyed by the remnants of brilliant pleasure. He let his heavy gaze wander, amazed that after all that joy, it wasn’t even fully dark yet.
His eyes caught on something disturbing. Quinn blinked and shook his head. “What the hell isthat?”
Her body jerked against his. “I…Huh?”
“My God,” he murmured, staring at the bathroom just across the hall.
“What’s wrong?”
Quinn sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. “I think there’s gold flocking in there!”
“Huh?”
Totally energized now, he stood and moved toward the half-closed door. No way. “Are thosegold flecksin the pink countertops? Mother of…”
“Quinn!” she growled from the bed. “What are you talking about?”
He stared for a long, stunned moment at the horrible glory of her pink-and-gold bathroom before he stumbled back to the bed. Pink tile, white cabinets, and the wallpaper decorated with pink flowers with fuzzy gold leaves. “I’m sorry. I need a minute. I can’t believe that gold flocking was staring at my ass the whole time we were having sex.”
In response, Lori mumbled something that sounded irritated, but the effect was muffled by her pillow. He collapsed into bed with a groan, and his hand found a very comfortable spot on the curve of her ass. She looked sweet and tousled in the faint late light slanting through the blinds. Really sweet. And really tousled. “What’d you say?”
She raised her face a half inch from the pillow. “I said my dad remodeled it for my mom in 1979.”
“Wow. Do you mind if I come back and take a few pictures?”
“What, do you and your architect friends get together and exchange horror stories?”
Quinn couldn’t help the flush that gave him away, but he tried his best to mediate it. “This is a legitimate design era. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s part of our history.”
“I’m not embarrassed! Jeez, you’re a freak.”
Even past the tangled curls that hung over her face, Quinn could see her skin turn pink, reminding him of just how he’d repaid her sassiness last time. Damn, that had been hot as hell, taking her from behind. He stroked her ass in fond memory.
“You owe me an apology,” he prompted.
Surprisingly, she smiled and brushed the hair from her eyes as she turned slightly toward him. “You’re right. I apologize. Your heart was definitely in it.”
His heart twisted to hear itself spoken of. A disturbing response. Hmm.
“In fact, I think you’re a genius, Quinn. And I think I’m a genius for picking you.”
“Revisionist history. You didn’t pick me. I inserted myself into your sordid plan.”
