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“You say you wouldn’t, but I judge myself every day for it, and although I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done, you make it a little easier to forget the sins of my past. So trust me when I say you’re more than enough of a gift.”
Only then does he remove his finger.
“Quinn,” I stumble over my words, at a loss for the right thing to say.
But how does one reply to something so sweet and also something so heartbreaking? I simply can’t because there are no words to vocalize my feelings at this moment. Actions are the only thing I can employ to express my love for him.
We breathe in one another’s exhalations, transfixed on the other. But a war rages inside me, threatening to break free at any second. And I don’t have the strength to fight it at the moment.
I launch at Quinn, fisting my fingers into the collar of his T-shirt, desperate to draw him closer. He complies, allowing me to drag him onto my starving body, anxious to feel his touch. As soon as my lips meet his, I can’t get close enough, quick enough. But too many clothes are in the way, and I’m desperate to be skin to skin.
“Lose the shirt,” I say around his mouth, my hands frantically helping his as he reaches for the hem of his T-shirt.
As soon as he’s bare, a shiver rocks me when he lowers his hard chest onto mine. His nipple ring digs into me, and I whimper, loving how the cool metal caresses my skin. His tongue drives forward, licking my lower lip, requesting permission into my mouth, and I open up wide, wanting to devour him whole.
His hand takes a leisurely tour of my body, stopping at my right breast along the way. I moan in pleasure, arching into his touch, but it’s still not enough. I clutch at my T-shirt, and Quinn pulls away for the briefest of seconds to allow me to sit up and tear it off over my head. Before it even hits the floor, I’m pawing at Quinn to resume his position on top of me.
He bites my neck, and I bend backward, exposing the entire length for him to consume. His stubble scratches me in the most delicious way, and as I feel the stud of his tongue ring tickling a path down my neck to my collarbone, I know I’m about ready to detonate.
“Pants. Off,” I manage to choke out, and Quinn chuckles in response, but thankfully, I hear a zipper being unfastened.
“No, yours, not mine,” I reply breathlessly when I feel him slipping his fingers into my pants.
“Later,” he replies huskily, biting my jaw.
I’m too highly strung to argue, and as his wicked fingers crawl into the waistband of my underwear, all rational thought goes flying out the window.
“Oh fuck,” he hisses as he brushes over my aching center but never seeking haven inside.
Quinn teases me, sliding two fingers up and down my slick entrance, and I just wish he would…
Oh God.
He inserts a finger, and I moan at the feeling. It’s exactly what I need. My body begins undulating beneath him, and by his labored breathing, I know he’s just as turned on as I am.
His finger torments me as it skirts around where I want it to be, and I know he’s doing this on purpose. But I’m really not in the mood for teasing, so I reach down and palm the huge bulge in the front of his pants, and he sucks in a breath of air at my forwardness.
“More,” I beg, barely able to speak.
But to my horror, Quinn withdraws his finger.
My eyes flick to his, wordlessly demanding an answer.
The answer I get has my burning body engulfing into flames.
He runs the finger that was inside me seconds ago along his lower lip, spreading myarousal with his touch. If that’s not hot enough, his pink tongue emerges, slowly licking my taste from his wicked mouth.
My eyes are glued to his, and as he places his finger into his mouth, sucking away my taste while reaching for the button on his jeans, I almost come from the sight alone. As he unfastens his zipper, my eyes drop to his pants, and the unmissable erection poking out of his jeans has my body demanding more.
Sadly, all thoughts of getting anywhere near him are interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Both our movements cease, and I think I almost stop breathing when another knock, louder this time, thumps on the door.
I have no idea who it is, and as the knocking continues, quite impatiently, I know they’re not going away.
“Who is it?” I whisper to Quinn, who quickly buttons up his jeans.
As he leans over and opens up the bedside dresser and produces a gun, I know he won’t take any chances when he finds out. My eyes fall to the piece, and I jump up, frantically searching for my top on the floor.
“Go into the bathroom and lock the door,” he demands as he slowly creeps toward the banging.
