by Meghan Quinn
My clit is pounding now, a light sheen of sweat coats my skin, and all I can think about is the unyielding need ripping through my core. There is no question. I want him and I want him now.
I turn toward him and whisper quietly, “I’m so wet, Racer. I don’t think I can . . .” His finger presses against my clit, and I almost slip out of my seat. I bite my bottom lip, stopping myself from moaning at the table I’m sharing with my best friend and brother.
“Touch me, Princess. Feel how hard I am right now.”
No, I can’t. There is no way I can do that. If I do, I have no idea what will happen next. I might lean over and start sucking him. I have zero willpower right now. Zero.
Instead, I stand quickly, pull my dress down, and snag my clutch from the table. “I have to pee,” I announce very unladylike to the table and race off to the bathroom, thighs clenched.
Legs pressed together, I sprint-walk to the bathroom where I lock myself in a stall and lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath. My body is ignited, sparking with electricity, so freaking alive that I can’t stop shaking. My phone beeps with a text. It can only be one person. With a shaky hand, I pull my phone from my clutch and read the text.
Racer: You can run all you want now, Princess, but just know this. You’re. Mine. Tonight.
I lean my head against the stall wall and try to calm my racing heart and raging hormones. He’s just a man, a very interested man, a very attractive and interested man. You can do this. Think about all the times he’s pissed you off.
Blank.
Nothing is coming to mind.
All I can think about is his lips on mine, his hands caressing me, his hand in my hair, his deep voice whispering in my ear.
My phone beeps again. I look down to see a picture. Racer took a selfie of him sucking on his fingers. The fingers that were intimately touching me.
Racer: I’m eating your pussy at least three times tonight because damn, you taste good.
Heat erupts all around me as I quietly moan. Okay, it’s worse away from him. Retreating to the bathroom has done nothing but turn me on even more. Damn him.
He always has the upper hand, always. Twisting my lips to the side, I think for a second, because surely two can play at this game. Garnering enough courage, I pull up the camera on my phone and turn it around in selfie mode. I fluff my hair, make a kissy face and pull down on my dress while pressing my boobs together for massive cleavage. I take a few shots until I get one I know will do the job. Instead of sending it right away. I take a second to gather myself and as I exit the bathroom, I send it.
I make my way through the restaurant and head toward the courtyard where Madison and Spencer are still bickering. Racer glances down at his phone he’s holding in his lap and I know the minute he sees the picture. His face goes hard and a muscle in his jaw ticks. I take the moment to walk up to the seat and say, “Scoot over.”
His eyes sear through me as I sit down, and satisfaction bursts through me. Just to tip the scale in my favor, I slide my hand up his leg as I situate myself on the bench and barely run my fingers over his obvious erection. I’m not going to lie, the feel of him has me practically panting, but it’s pure satisfaction when Racer shifts high in the seat and clears his throat.
I pull my hand away just quickly enough when Madison looks up from the menu. “Oh good, you’re back. Racer suggested we get oysters. You cool with that?”
Of course he would suggest oysters. The man has a one-track mind right now and it’s all about sex.
“I love sucking down oysters.” I smile, making sure to emphasize the word sucking. I know Racer hears me loud and clear by the way he tugs lightly on a strand of my hair.
God, I hope he tugs harder on it tonight.
***
“Can you not rub your belly like that? You look like an ape,” Madison snaps as she hangs on to Spencer’s arm. She’s just as bad, leaning into him as we walk down Main Street. They both ate their body weight in food tonight, trying to take each other down, seeing who could eat more.
Spencer went for the win.
“It helps me digest,” he answers.
“You look ridiculous. Tell him he looks ridiculous, G.”
I’m barely able to process what’s happening. Instead of holding hands or walking with his arm around my shoulders, he’s walking next to me, his hand casually gripping the back of my neck, his thumb caressing my skin. Who walks like this? Who in their right mind thinks this is the proper way to walk?
Racer, that’s who.
“You look ridiculous.” I appease my friend who is walking in front of us.
“Thank you.” She sighs and leans more into Spencer. Please don’t get attached, he will only leave again. “Are you excited about tomorrow, Racer? Ready to be thrown into the society life?”
“I’m more excited about tonight,” he whispers into my ear. Christ, man. Just focus on being normal for two seconds.
“What?” Madison asks while looking behind her.
“Yeah, super-duper excited. Peed my pants at least three times so far today over it. I just can’t contain my excitement. Think there will be a conga line at one of the parties? I love a good conga.”
Smart-ass.
“No way, man,” Spencer answers. “But if you start one, I’ll be right there behind you.”
“There will be no starting of conga lines.” I lay down the hammer. “You two will be on your best behavior.”
“Ooo, let’s go into Tiffany’s!” Madison squeals, pulling Spencer into the store with her. Because we’re a group, we follow closely behind.
Madison drags Spencer over to the engagement rings. I can’t even begin to process the train of thought she might be having, instead, I casually walk around with Racer.
“Do you like jewelry, Princess? I don’t see you wear it very often.”
Casually, he releases my neck and grips my hand instead. There’s something that makes my stomach flip upside down when his large hand takes mine. It’s such a simple move, an easy way to say I like you, but it hits me hard.
Focusing on his question, I shake my head. “Not really. If it is the right piece, something meaningful, then yes. But other than that, I’m not really interested.”
He hums into my ear. “You’re really not like your family, are you?”
I look up at him, enthralled by his handsome features. Those blue eyes of his sparkle under the light of the showroom and eat me up. I’ve always thought Racer was hot, but seeing him tonight, his affection toward me, his longing, my perspective has done a one-eighty. There is no way I won’t let this man take me. There is no way I can deny him anything. He has me eating out of the palm of his hand.
“I’m not.” I shake my head.
“You’re genuine. The real deal.”
Flirting, I run my finger along the glass enclosure and look behind me. “Took you this long to figure it out?”
“Took you this long to show it.”
“This one, this one.” Madison jumps up and down and claps her hand. “We found it, G. Come watch Spencer propose.”
Say what?
I turn around quickly to see Spencer and Madison with huge grins on their faces nowhere even near the engagement rings anymore. Talk about having a heart attack.
“That’s not funny.”
They both fist-bump and laugh. “The look on her face was priceless. Could you imagine us getting married? What a nightmare.” Madison pushes off Spencer and starts toward the door.
“It wouldn’t be a nightmare.” He chases after her. “It would be a fucking pleasure.”
Rolling my eyes, I slip my hand into Racer’s and lead him out into the street where Madison and Spencer are bickering.
“There isn’t another guy, is there?” Spencer scoffs.
“Oh, there is. His name is Aaron, and he could beat you up with one flex of his pinky finger. Trust me, he’s huge.”
“Steroids will do that to you,” my fit and rather muscular—but naïv
e—brother pushes back.
“He’s not on steroids.” Unsure, Madison leans toward Racer and whispers, “He’s not on steroids, right?” Racer shakes his head. “He’s not on steroids.”
“Probably has a small penis.” Spencer adjusts his watch on his wrist casually.
“It’s giant actually. Biggest penis in the land. Touches his knee actually. They call him Knee-Deep at work.”
“His nickname is actually Smalls,” Racer cuts in only to receive the death glare from Madison. “I mean, yeah his nickname is Knee-Deep.”
Spencer laughs and walks away with Madison’s hand latched in his. “Nice try, babe. There is no guy.”
We make our way back to the bungalows and luckily I watch Spencer and Madison part ways with a high five and good night. Relieved, I follow Racer to our room, nerves starting to shoot up my spine, coating my body in goosebumps. Everything has built to this moment, to what’s going to happen next, and even though my body is ready, I’m not sure my heart is.
The bungalow is just as we left it for dinner, small yet comfortable. Racer shuts the door and, like a smart man, locks it. When he turns to face me, I fidget in place. I feel awkward, exposed, unsure of what to do. Do I make a move? Do I fling myself at him? Do I start stripping, hoping he follows suit?
Instead of saying anything, Racer unbuttons his shirt and walks toward the chair in the corner. He doesn’t say anything when he sits down, shirt open revealing his magnificent chest, defined and mouthwatering. With a raised finger, he motions for me to come toward him. I slip out of my heels and walk over to where he’s sitting.
He laces our fingers together and pulls me down so I’m sitting across his lap. With the hand that’s not connected with mine, he caresses the back of my neck, occasionally twirling his finger in my hair. He’s innocent in his touches, never once indicating anything other than a little light flirting. Actually, it’s more like adoration. He’s intent on making me feel incredible.
“You look beautiful tonight, Georgie. I don’t think I told you that.”
“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself,” I answer back, unsure how to take his compliment. We’re usually fighting, trying to pull one over the other, so compliments feel a little odd. Yet, they’re nice on the ears . . . and nerves.
“Do you know what I found out about you tonight?”
Unsure where he’s going with this, I answer, “That I take good bathroom selfies?”
He tugs on my hair lightly and chuckles. “Fuck, you do, but that’s not what I was going to say.”
“Then what did you find out?”
He flips our hands around over and stares at my palm as he traces it lightly with his index finger. “Do you have your word book with you?”
“Always.”
“Grab it and a pen.”
When I get up, he taps my butt and smiles sheepishly at me. Oh God, he’s so cute. That boyish charm is burying itself in my heart.
Quickly, I grab my notebook and a pen and sit back down on his lap, resuming my position. Without skipping a beat, his hand is twirling in my hair again, an action I’m becoming accustomed to. No one has done that to me before. It’s affection, but not to score. It’s just Racer. A gentle yet alpha lover.
“So you want to know what I found out today?”
“Yes.” I move on his lap, loving how I fit so perfectly. Surprised how easy this seems with him.
“Do you know of the word oenomel?”
“No.” I shake my head.
He nods at my book. “Open it up, Princess. You have a new word to write down.” I do as I’m told and uncap my pen. I actually love how invested he is in my book. Not once has he ridiculed it. Not once has he teased me. Rather, he’s given to it. Provided a part of himself. He runs his fingers along my leg as he speaks. “I watched you tonight, Georgie. You spoke of Limerence with such passion, such unbridled strength, that I couldn’t help but be enamored. And when your older brother praised you, you took his compliments with such grace. It was beautiful.” I’ve always known Abraham was on my side, knew what I dreamed of. But Spencer hasn’t been that brother. He’s more aloof and egotistical.
“I’m the youngest child in an accomplished family, Racer. I feel as though I need to make a big statement to impress my family. I don’t think it should be important, but it is. I want to make something of myself. I want them to be proud of me . . . as well.”
“And that’s so fucking sexy, watching a woman of your talent and strength accomplish what you’re meant to do. Hell, you’re making me ache for you and you alone.”
I’m caught off guard; I don’t quite know how to react.
Releasing my hair, he tilts my chin down so I’m looking him directly in the eyes. “Oenomel.” He takes my pen and starts writing in my notepad on a blank sheet. His writing is chicken scratch, but it’s endearing. He glances up at me, his eyes serious and . . . earnest. “It means something that combines strength and sweetness. That’s you. That’s what I found out tonight, Georgie. You’re the definition of oenomel . . . with a dash of sass.”
Turning away from me, he writes the definition in my book and signs the bottom, “Entry by Racer for George.”
My heart melts.
Never in a million years would I have thought the asshole who refurbished my parents’ pool house would be a man I would desire. But here I am, my heart flipping, my stomach dropping, and my brain telling me to do everything in my power to keep this man around. Even if he drives me crazy sometimes. There are so many facets to this man, so many ways he’s impressed and surprised me. And he gets me. He wants me. Me.
He’s utter perfection.
When he closes the book, I press my hand against his cheek and slowly straddle his lap so I’m facing him head-on. “Thank you,” I whisper. “That was so sweet.”
“It’s the truth.” His hands gently glide up and down my thighs. “You surprised me in every way possible. I just want you to know I see you. I see how hard you work. I see you putting in your time. I see you reaching to achieve your dreams. And I will do anything possible to help you get what you want. What you deserve.”
“Like dress up in preppy clothes and act like my boyfriend all weekend?”
He grips my waist and situates me so I’m flush with his lap. He leans his head back on the chair cushion and smiles at me. “No acting here, Georgie. I’m your boyfriend, like I said earlier.”
“Yeah?” I laugh. “Just like that? You’re my boyfriend, end of discussion? When a few hours earlier we were barely talking to each other?”
“Technicality.” He smirks.
“Well, who’s to say I’m ready to commit?”
“Playing hard to get? Fair enough. I can charm the fuck out of you. By the end of the weekend you’re going to be begging me to call you my girlfriend.”
“You’re so sure of yourself. Well know this, Racer, I don’t beg.”
Removing his hands from my legs, he places them behind his head casually and stares at me. At the same time, he spreads his legs forcing my legs to spread as well. Torture. “Funny, your body was begging for me to ease the ache between your legs at the restaurant.”
Of course he brings that up. I’m surprised it took him this long.
“That was because I was hungry,” I counter.
Smiling wickedly, he responds, “Yeah, hungry for my dick.”
Cue the biggest eye-roll ever.
“Lame. So incredibly lame.” I hop off his lap and start rummaging through my suitcase for my pajamas, taking a deep breath trying to calm my heart. I want him so badly. But I also need to fight him. It’s us. It’s how we roll.
When I find them, I feel Racer behind me, slowly unzipping my dress. Caressing my skin with his deep, velvety voice, he says, “In this bungalow, we sleep naked, Princess.”
And just like that, my dress slides off my shoulders and pools to the floor, leaving me in just my thong and bra.
Oh God . . .
Chapter Eighteen
; GEORGIANA
Strong fingers glide up my sides, barely caressing my skin until they rest on my shoulders. He steps closer behind me. His heat so searing it vibrates. Sex is in the air; it’s present, it’s going to happen, and I can feel the electricity bouncing between us, igniting a flame deep inside me that hasn’t been lit in a while. If ever.
“What do you want me to do tonight, Princess?” He presses his lips gently over my neck.
I shift my head to the side to give him better access. Still holding my shoulders, he works his way up to my jaw while his fingers play with the straps of my bra.
“Everything,” I whisper, loving how tender he is, how he can magically make me feel his every breath, every caress, every vibration from his voice. It’s like there is nothing around us, just the anticipation.
He moves the straps of my bra off my shoulders, letting them fall naturally. The weight of my breasts are barely held up. He trails his hands down my arms and pulls on the straps until the cups of my bra are forced to flip down, exposing my breasts. He deliciously groans in my ear as he leans forward over my shoulder.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Releasing the straps, he kisses my jaw and carefully brings his hands to my ribcage where he rests them for a brief second. He’s so close, so freaking close to touching me exactly where I want him. The ache for him to squeeze my breasts is overwhelming, to feel his fingers pluck and tug my nipples. I’m tingling with need.
He moves another inch upward, now nibbling on my ear, his breath hot on my skin, his groans making me more turned on than ever.
His hands don’t cup me. Frustrated, I spread my palms across the back of his hands and move them up to my breasts where I make him grip me. He groans loudly in my ear, an animalistic sound that hits me right between my thighs.
“Yes,” I moan as my head falls back on his shoulder, and he starts to squeeze my breasts upward. His fingers run over my nipples but never quite pinch them. It’s a gentle stroke, but I want more. “Harder,” I demand, shifting on my feet.
“Fuck, Princess.” Racer clears his throat and then brings my body completely against his. The first thing I notice is his erection, and oh God, it feels so good.