Jumping to my feet, I pulled her loose-limbed body over to the side of the couch and bent her forward over the arm. I undid my pants and shoved them to my knees, kicked her feet farther apart, and moved the black lace aside.
“Fuck,” I growled. “I need a—”
“Just do it,” she said, out of breath. “I need to feel you. Now.”
I wasn’t going to ask again. Guiding the tip of my cock to her entrance, I pushed inside her, both of us moaning at the slick, hot friction. I’m fucking her without a condom. We’re breaking a rule. The realization that I’d scaled one of her walls made me crazy with lust for her, not like I needed any more motivation. But it felt like such a victory in this primal, testosterone-fueled way—like a prehistoric man taking out a wooly fucking mammoth.
Not that Jaime was a wooly mammoth, of course. (And I probably won’t mention the analogy to her.)
On the contrary, her back was pale and smooth, and I put my hands on her shoulder blades as I drove into her, her skin warm and sticky.
Her perfume mixed with the scent of sex and filled my head, made my blood run even hotter. Her bound hands at the small of her back reminded me that I’d intended to torture her tonight with slow sex, punish her a little for the way she refused to give me a chance, show her that sex wasn’t always about the finish line and didn’t have to be such a straight line. It was fun to take time to enjoy one another, play around, trade roles, exchange power. We were new together, but we were good together—I felt it, and I knew she did too. Her willingness to play along with these games told me that, sexually, we were totally compatible.
But the plan for a slow fuck?
Yeah, that went the way of the pterodactyl.
I grabbed her hair with one hand and wrapped my fingers around her crossed wrists with the other, aroused beyond my control by every sense—the sight of my cock pounding into her, the sound of her high-pitched cries and my caveman grunts, her smell, her taste in my mouth, the feel of her tight, wet pussy sliding over my dick—it was too much to bear.
I came so hard I felt the ground shaking beneath me, and I pulled her hair so hard she screamed—or maybe that was her own climax rocketing through her, rattling her bones, jarring her teeth.
I want you I want you I want you.
I couldn’t stop thinking it, couldn’t stop fucking her, couldn’t bear the thought that she didn’t want me, didn’t want this, more than she wanted to protect herself.
I was inside her.
And I didn’t want to leave.
Sixteen
JAIME
I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can't breathe.
Something was crushing me. I saw nothing but silver, heard nothing but the cannon-fire of my heart.
What was this feeling? It was heavy yet weightless, scary yet soothing, unbidden yet welcome.
I couldn’t focus, couldn’t get control of my senses or emotions, couldn’t remember where I was or how I’d gotten there.
Quinn. Quinn.
Quinn was here with me.
Quinn was inside me.
Yes. Yes. I wanted him there, loved the way his bare skin felt gliding over my walls. Loved the way he reached something so deep inside me it hurt. Loved the way my body slowly contracted around his in that mad, dizzying spiral until it couldn’t take any more pleasure, exploded, and fell to pieces.
Falling to pieces.
I opened my eyes.
Whoa. Get ahold of yourself. Those were good orgasms, maybe the best you’ve ever had, but there’s no need to fall apart, right? It’s good chemistry, that’s all.
Quinn was breathing hard behind me, hands braced on my back, which was probably why I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Yes, that was it. That was definitely it.
When I coughed, he took them off me.
“So,” I said, peeking over my shoulder. “That was your slow fuck.”
“That was not my slow fuck. I sort of lost control there.” He started untying the scarf around my wrists. “Abandoned the plan.”
“I’m all for that kind of detour. Think the neighborhood enjoyed the show?”
“Unless someone was standing right beneath your window when you undressed—”
“Or looking from their second-floor window across the street.”
“Or that, of course—then they saw nothing. That’s not to say the entire street didn’t hear the show.”
I smiled. “It was pretty loud.”
“There. You’re free.” He tossed the scarf aside and helped me straighten up, then he slowly pulled out. “Free, but maybe a little messy. Can I get you a towel or something?”
“No, don’t worry about it. Be right back.” I hurried down the hall to my bedroom, shut the door, and went into the bathroom.
As I cleaned up, I started to panic. Not because he hadn’t worn a condom—I was on the pill and very good about taking it. I’d never had a scare.
Then again, I’d never fucked anyone without a condom. Ever.
My heart started to pound.
Why had I done it? What had made me so hungry for Quinn that I’d broken one of my ironclad rules? What did this mean?
Calm down. You were hungry for Quinn’s dick, that’s all. It’s a nice one.
True. Maybe that was it.
But…but what about the big heart thing? And the New York thing? And the way we had such fun playing each other’s little chicken games?
Exactly—playing. You’re great playmates. Friends. And it’s OK to miss your friends when they go away. And it’s nice that he gave you a compliment, but for fuck’s sake, don’t be stupid. You don’t have that big a heart, and even if you did, it’s impenetrable.