Owning Swan

by Carter Blake

  And she is not that kind of a girl.

  Chapter 4

  Abigail

  Ten minutes with Quinn is enough to make it crystal clear that he’s nothing like his brothers.

  He’s funny.

  Clever.

  And he goes back and forth between charming and broody just enough to hint at a darker side without making me feel like he’s a bottomless pit of despair.

  Despite myself, I feel my defenses go down when he starts with the big words. Aside from the English Literature geeks in high school, I haven’t been able to share my love of language with anyone else. I doubt he’s an aficionado or anything like that, but it’s obvious he’s smart.

  And, God, so sexy.

  I’m milking my banged-up head for all it’s worth. If he just drops me off, it’ll be over.

  When will I run into him again?

  Granted, it’s a small town. But we’d both go back to a neutral zone. All the progress we made with the witty banter goes out the window.

  So, no, the window will serve a better purpose tonight.

  He grabs a white and red case, sets it down on my lap, and takes great care to examine the spot where I hit my head with a light touch. When I’m certain he won’t meet my eyes, I watch his work and try to keep from sighing.

  He makes eye contact with me, which immediately has me averting my gaze and blushing.

  Damn it.

  If he’s the kind who likes the chase, the only reason he’s been so nice and flirtatious with me is that he enjoyed a girl not lapping up his attention and subconsciously sending out signs that she’ll jump through hoops for him. I thought for sure that he knew about my crush on him, but since he has no recollection of me in high school, that theory is a dud.

  “It doesn’t look too bad,” he says, a hint of uncertainty seeping into his voice. “Where did you say it hurts again?”

  “Right here,” I say, feeling around my head. There’s only some residual pain, but I exaggerate anyway, and wince.

  “Usually the area would be red…”

  Quinn takes a little flashlight and beams it down on my head, mortifying me. Why do I have such a weak game? Why is my answer to everything to take the worst possible route to get what I want?

  It’s no wonder I’m a virgin who’s never been on a real date.

  Cupping one side of my face, he turns my head so he has a better field of vision to the half of my scalp that’s supposed to hurt. It’s not going at all like I imagined it would. How do pretty girls do this? Do they just let their beauty speak for them?

  “Yeah, I don’t see anything.” Quinn throws the flashlight in the first aid kit as I untwist my neck from the unnatural angle he had me in. “But the good news is, there’s no blood or any cuts.”

  “That’s great,” I mutter. “Sorry for worrying you. And for allowing my head to potentially put a dent in your-”

  “Window?” Quinn chortles. “Don’t sweat it. It wouldn’t be a complete night without some emotions running high and the suspense of a health scare.”

  I plaster a smile on my face, one that doesn’t convince even me that I’m as breezy as can be and start to move towards the house.

  Quinn’s mountainous frame blocks my way. He doesn’t budge when I gesture for him to let me pass.

  “I had a great time tonight,” he says, his lashes on full display again.

  What did I say earlier? That I swoon when he does that? Well, this time it threatens to put me in a coma. I’ve never had him up close and personal like this. It makes my head faint and the world spin around me.

  “Me too,” I manage to say. “It was unexpectedly great.”

  “It was,” he agrees. “We should do it again.”

  “Wait, are you asking me out on a-”

  Quinn’s answer takes the form of a kiss.

  My first kiss.

  I don’t know what I’m doing so I follow his lead, starting nice and slow. Then, his lips part and he deepens the kiss. My heart collapses against my chest, and I can hear my blood pumping through my veins.

  I can hear it.

  That’s how terrified…and mesmerized…and turned on…and confused…and afraid of doing something wrong I am.

  A moan. Muffled by our lips, sure, but I’m sure I heard it.

  Quinn moaned.

  Heat radiates down my spine and travels to the center of my being, lighting a fire between my legs. I finally understand the world’s fascination with lust and how powerless and powerful it makes you feel at the same time.

  His tongue touches mine, and it’s a bolt of lightning. My hands take a life of their own, grabbing at his hair and bringing his face closer to mine. My body presses against his, and his hard cock has to have left an imprint on my hip.

  “You want to come inside?” I ask, even though the thought simultaneously thrills me and chills me to my bones. “The place is a mess, but if you don’t mind that, it might be more comfortable.”

  What are you saying, Abigail?

  More “comfortable.”

  You won’t seduce an oven mitt with that.

  “No, it’s getting late,” Quinn says, pulling back slightly, his expression unreadable.

  “Oh.” It has to be the fastest anyone has gone from a thousand miles an hour to a screeching halt.

  “Oh, no,” he backpedals. “I don’t want you to think I’m not...” His drags his fingers through his hair. “I’m interested. Very. Interested.” He pulls me closer, his hard-on pulsating white-hot through the layers of clothes between us.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Insecurities flutter in my chest.

  “I don’t want you to think it was some line,” he says. “I never imagined that this would happen when we left Marty’s. Believe me. You are…You’re amazing.”

  I’ve come this far and either he’s just being kind, kissing me so as not to reject me outright, but that’s as far as he wants to take it, or he’s telling the truth about his hesitation. Whatever the case, I don’t see much downside to digging my heels in except for the possibility of me getting my ass handed to me and humiliated three ways to Sunday.

  Deciding I can live with that sooner than I can let him drive off when we could do so much more, I kiss him again.

  “I want you. Come inside?” It’s a small whimper. Pathetic. But when he nods in agreement, I don’t regret it.

  Chapter 5

  Quinn

  Her words are fuel for my desire. Whatever reservations were on my mind, they vanish when she says those three magic words - I want you.

  The springs of Abigail’s mattress squeak when I push her on the faded quilt covering. The bed isn’t the best, and those springs are for sure going to wake any neighbors she has, but I don’t care.

  Our conversation in the car was more vibrant than any other I’ve had in months. Years, maybe.

  What she knows about me, she keeps to herself, so it’s easy to pretend we’re two strangers who hit it off. One of those chance encounters that change everything.

  She’s dazzling.

  A breath of fresh air.

  I’m going to make her mine.

  Reason goes out the door when I pull her shirt off, revealing the creamy skin underneath. Goosebumps trail my touch, making her shiver. It’s like my body’s entire content of blood drained to my cock because the throbbing originating from my groin is nothing short of earth-splittingly intense.

  I’m torn between foreplay to make her anguish for my cock and just - taking her. Showing her what a man who knows what he wants can make her feel.

  My jeans slide off quickly enough, but I leave my boxers on. If I remove them, I won’t have a choice - I’ll want to thrust as hard and deep into her as I can.

  In a matter of a couple of hours, Abigail woke a need unlike any other I’ve ever felt.

  I want her.

  Need her.

  Have to make her mine.

  My shirt joins the rest of our clothes in a heap on the floor.

 
She moans against my mouth when I kiss her, and wraps her legs around my hips, lassoing me closer. Our bodies grind together, rough and hot, until her skirt becomes an inconvenience I can no longer bear. I hike it up, push her soaked panties to the side, and pull my cock out.

  The bare contact between my shaft and her wet pussy is searing. I give her a good, long thrust, and I’m balls deep inside her.

  Fuck.

  “Oh God,” she cries, and the tight fit becomes even tighter as her pussy clenches around my cock.

  “You feel so good,” I whisper in her ear, thrusting again. “I’m going to”-another thrust-“fuck you”-another thrust-“come for me”-harder-“like you’ve…”-again-“never come before.”

  Abigail’s frantic moans send adrenaline surging through my veins.

  My hips collide against hers, and there’s no release, no hint of it peaking, so I have to go faster. Smack. Our skin crackles with each thrust, drowning out the squeaking mattress springs.

  “Quinn,” she cries. “I’m-”

  “You’re going to come for me,” I tell her, kissing her hard. “I want to hear your moans”-I thrust deeper-“as you come for me.”

  The way she looks at me through her half-lidded eyes, her lustful expression rouses a primal energy in me. My strokes inside her tight pussy give rise to a tidal wave of pleasure.

  In that brief second, just before I explode inside of her, I’m overwhelmed by the desire to own her.

  Not just her body.

  All of her.

  Her pussy clamps down on me one last time before she shrieks in ecstasy, finally reaching her orgasm.

  No sooner than I hear the sound of her bliss, jets of cum shoot out of me, a full-body release that makes me roar.

  “Wow,” we say in unison, foreheads pressed together.

  I roll next to her, utterly spent.

  No one - and I do mean no one - has ever gotten me to lose control like that.

  Even if I tried to hang on, I wouldn’t have been able to.

  The fact I hadn’t even managed to get our clothes off before we went at it spoke to that.

  “That was incredible,” she breathes. “I can’t even think straight.”

  “Me neither.”

  “And you said you weren’t trying to pick me up,” she teases. “Did you really not see this ending right here?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested from the moment I saw you, but no. I didn’t think there was any chance.” I roll on top of her and look in her eyes. “But let’s get one thing straight. This isn’t ending right here.”

  Her cheeks turn red. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” I say, burying my head in her hair, “that we have only just begun.”

  Chapter 6

  Abigail

  The sunlight pours into the room. Without curtains to give me any shade, I can’t resist waking up.

  I don’t open my eyes at first.

  No, the only thing I need to do right now is to allow myself to bask in the euphoria I feel as the reel of what happened on this very bed just a few hours ago plays in my mind.

  I pat the section of the bed next to me, trying to find Quinn’s body.

  Nothing.

  No one’s there. Only a crumpled fitted sheet, the result of the night before. I sit up and rub my eyes before scanning the room for any sign that I’m not alone.

  If Quinn left in the early hours of the morning without saying goodbye, I hope a hole appears on the floor and swallows me. My plummeting heart recovers when I see his clothes are precisely where he left it. As are mine.

  “Quinn?” I call.

  “In your kitchen,” he shouts. “Making breakfast with the very limited amount of ingredients you had in your pantry.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “No, stay in bed.” The sound of metal utensils clinking together echoes through the cabin. “I’ll bring breakfast to you.”

  He doesn’t have to say it twice. It’s like the sex depleted my energy and even several hours of sleep aren’t enough to charge the levels back to what they were before. My head collapses on the pillow, and I fidget until I get comfortable again.

  I had expected my first time to hurt. For me to not know what the hell I was doing. But somehow, the way Quinn had taken me brought out this instinct that had been there all along. I didn’t tell him I was a virgin, and in return, he didn’t treat me like one, as if I were dainty and fragile.

  No, he made a woman out of me. The best kind of ache burns between my legs. If I had it my way, we would never leave this cabin. I want more of what we did. More of our limbs tangled together and not knowing where I began and he ended.

  Quinn appears in the doorway, a goofy smile on his face. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” I say, returning his smile. “How did you sleep?”

  “Like a rock.” He carries the tray to the bed.

  Various candy bars are arranged in senseless little clusters. The only breakfast item on there is the black coffee, fragrant and fresh, in two mismatching mugs.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “Well, isn’t this nutritious,” I tease. “They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. What are we going to do if this is how we take ours?”

  “Take it up with the owner of this joint.” He hands me the cup of steaming coffee, a much-needed pick-me-up to jumpstart my day. Without it, I’m sure I’ll remain a hazy ball of post-sex-afterglow for days.

  “The owner wishes to remind you that she hasn’t had time to run to the store.” I take a sip and almost can’t believe how heavenly it tastes. Since when did I have coffee this good? Aside from the jar of instant coffee in one of the kitchen cabinets, there’s nothing else on the premises that would end up tasting half as magical. “Wait, I had decent coffee lying around? I wouldn’t trust it. Was probably here before I arrived.”

  Quinn laughs. “No, it was in my car. I never go anywhere without a backup stash. No one deserves to drink shitty coffee.”

  I glare at him from the corner of my eye and gulp the rest of it down, scorching hot, in one go. “Hey. No subtle digs.”

  “Just honesty,” he says, and sips his coffee.

  The tray of sugary goodies sits between us, a matter I’ll have to correct soon. I consider my options, opting for the plate with pieces of a nutty caramel chocolate bar, the slabs of dark chocolate, and the tangy, gummy candies. It’s cheating for my usual diet, but what else was I supposed to get at a late-night gas station convenience store?

  “So, what do you have going on?” Quinn asks, taking the other plate. The selection is similar, but instead of gummy candies, there are soft, individually wrapped taffies.

  “Nothing, really,” I admit. “I decided to go easy for the next few weeks and try to get my story on the page, but I can just imagine how that’s going to go. Spoiler alert, not well.”

  “What’s your story about?” He unwraps five pieces of taffy and crams them into his mouth all at once. It’s such a departure from his calm, collected self that I can’t help but do a happy dance in spirit, if not in person.

  I’ve become the fool, infatuated with the guy who spent the night under what he probably assumed was a no-strings-attached hookup. Just like all the girls I hated and felt inferior to in high school.

  “Abigail?”

  “Call me Abby,” I say. “Abigail is so rigid and formal.”

  “Whoa.” His brows go up and he grins. “Letting me call you by your nickname,” he says after he swallowed the taffies. “That takes our relationship to the next level.”

  Relationship?

  “Play your cards right, and I might even let you wash the dishes,” I tease, hoping to hide the tsunami of feelings that race through me. And then I open my mouth again, “That’s the true sign of a couple headed for wedded bliss.”

  Why am I such a dork?

  I groan inwardly.

  Quinn just winks. “I’ll keep it in mind. So, you didn’t a
nswer my question.”

  “Didn’t I?” I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat.

  “No, you only gave me a glimpse of your to-do list. That’s not nearly close to enough.” There’s a devilish glint in his eyes that both intrigue and enthrall me.

  “I have nothing set in stone if that’s what you’re asking. Nowhere I need to be and nothing I have to see to.”

  “So, if I were to ask you if you want to spend the day together…”

  I do my best to keep my chill. Inside, though, what he’s saying is music to my ears. “I would take it under advisement. You’ll have to present your case and really wow me.”

  “Challenge accepted,” he shoots back. “I have a place on the lake. The weather forecast says it should be a nice day. Sunny but not too much, if you know what I mean.”

  “Tell me more,” I say, though I’m ready to accept. If he had to go, my day would be spent perched on my chair, staring at a blank page on the screen, and trying to kill my frustration with my writer’s block by procrastinating.

  “Going to make me work for it, huh?” Quinn rubs his lips together as if he’s aware that his every move makes me melt and is hell-bent on making it happen. “The lake is great this time of year. We could go for a swim. It’s a private area, so we’d have it to ourselves. The other neighbors are miles away from my house.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “Oh, you’re such a tease,” he says, pouncing on me. I move the plate out of the way just in time to avoid having to interrupt our morning in this divine bubble to clean up the broken glass.

  “After last night, I’m not sure you can honestly say that.” I bring my face close to his, my heart fluttering in my chest. “Unless it wasn’t good for you.”

  “Miss Abby, I’ll show you how great it was for me.”

  He trails kisses down my torso, stopping just below my belly button. I feel his breath on my pussy, sending little shocks of erotic pleasure throughout my body.

  Chapter 7