by Monica James
I don’t know how to respond to him as I feel my throat is about to close over by his compliment, so I don’t. I brush my newly dyed locks off my face, and try not to blush too brightly.
Thankfully, after a couple of minutes of walking in silence, we arrive at our destination.
“We’re here,” Quinn says, leading me into a lush green garden.
“Here?” I ask, looking around at the beautiful park which is lit up with street lanterns.
“Yup. Close your eyes,” he says, stepping behind me, placing his hands lightly on my shoulders.
“Close my eyes?” I question as I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder.
“Yeah, it’ll only be for a minute,” he says with a small smile.
“Okay,” I reply, feeling a bundle of nerves somersault in my tummy as I turn back around to face the long, cemented walkway in front of me.
“Okay, they’re closed,” I say when I squeeze my eyes shut, turning blindly to face him, so he can see they are indeed closed.
“No peeking,” he says, chuckling, turning me back around. “No matter what, keep them shut.”
“I’m a little nervous,” I confess in a whisper.
“Don’t be,” he says, kissing my cheek.
My senses are on high alert, hoping to figure out what this surprise involves. I don’t have to wait long however, as my ears pick up on the unmistakable sound of horse hooves trotting on the pavement, steadily approaching us and getting louder with each step.
I take a step back, afraid I’m about to get trampled, but Quinn is behind me, drawing my body into his, and I instantly relax.
Once the trotting comes to a halt, Quinn whispers, “Okay, you can open your eyes.”
Slowly opening them, I gasp when I’m faced with a pair of warm brown eyes staring inquisitively at me.
Quinn leans over my shoulder, kissing my cheek. “Do you like him?”
“I love him!” I gasp, my eyes never leaving the huge brown horse in front of me. “Can I pat him?” I ask, looking up at the man who is holding onto his reins.
“Of course, milady,” he replies with a deep southern twang, tipping his cowboy hat.
I hesitantly reach forward, my fingers twitching to pat the wild beast in front of me. As I stroke his nose softly, he nuzzles into me, no doubt checking to see if I have any food.
I laugh, rubbing him on his head, his bristly hair tickling my fingers. “I think he likes me,” I say excitedly.
The horse neighs, and both Quinn and I laugh.
“Of course he does,” Quinn replies, reaching around me to pat his white nose. “You ready to go for a ride?” he asks casually.
I spin around quickly, eyes wide. “What! We can ride him?” I ask, my mouth hanging open.
Quinn laughs at my expression. “Yes. You said you’ve never ridden a horse before, and I’m a pretty poor substitute,” he smirks, referring back to when he piggybacked me into town.
I am elated at the idea of being able to ride such a remarkable creature, but I’m also scared of falling off, as it’s a long, long way down.
“I don’t know how,” I confess, hating to be a sourpuss.
“I’ll show you,” Quinn replies.
Nodding enthusiastically, I look almost possessed, because I so want to ride this beautiful beast before me.
The polite man hands Quinn the reins when he dismounts, which Quinn grasps into his left hand. He then slips his boot into the stirrup, holding onto the saddle as he mounts the horse by swinging his right leg over its vast back. In less than five seconds, he’s sitting comfortably in the saddle, looking totally at home on the back of a beast that is as untamed as he is.
“You’ve obviously done this before,” I say, looking up at him with a small smile.
“Once or twice,” he says smirking. “Okay, now your turn. Give me your hand.” He reaches down, extending his palm my way.
I take it quickly and smile, but he can feel the apprehension humming through my body.
“Trust me.” He smiles, squeezing my fingers lightly.
This time around, I have no reservations in answering. “With my life,” I reply, slipping my foot into the stirrup without delay.
Quinn smiles, hoisting me up like I weigh nothing more than a feather, and before I know it, I’m mounted on a horse, with Quinn at my back.
“See, that wasn’t so scary, was it?” he says into my ear.
Shaking my head and rubbing the horse’s mane, I reply, “No, not at all.” Although, I have a feeling with anyone else it would have been.
Quinn tugs on the reins and clicks twice with his tongue, lightly thumping his foot against the horse’s side, and the beautiful animal begins trotting. I yelp and hold onto the saddle in front of me, so glad I’m wearing boots and tights. I’m also glad that Quinn is at my back, his arms wrapped around me tightly as he holds onto the reins.
“You okay?” he says, chuckling, his cheeks pressed against my head.
“Yes,” I nod, my hair flowing in the breeze.
“In that case,” he replies, tugging on the reins and lightly thumping his boots into the horse’s side. “C’mon, boy, let’s show her what you’re made of.”
The horse neighs, picking up the pace into a steady gallop. I scream but it’s an excited sound, and Quinn chuckles, controlling the horse with ease.
I thought walking the streets of New Orleans and witnessing its beauty was amazing, but seeing it on horseback is something else. The lights whirl in a kaleidoscope of colors, and I take it all in with a smile plastered on my chilled cheeks.
Quinn handles the horse with precision, and I find my grip loosening on the saddle as he has his hands wrapped around my waist securely, holding onto the reins.
I’m not sure how long we ride, as each minute is timeless, but as we slow down, I see Quinn has directed us to somehow come out into a lonely section on the banks of the Mississippi River. My heart once again overflows with emotion as I see a blanket set by the grassy bank, lit up by dim street lanterns and tiny white candles.
“Is that for me?” I gasp, taking in the picturesque scene before me.
“Maybe,” Quinn replies, pulling on the reins gently, slowing our horse to a trot.
This is too much, and I tell myself not to cry, but this is seriously the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
Quinn talks to the horse in a soothing voice, and it comes to a stop a few feet away from the grassy bank.
My eyes are taking in the sight before them, and I freakin’ do feel like Cinderella. A rags to riches story, all equipped with horse and carriage.
Quinn swiftly dismounts, still holding onto the reins, and extends his hand toward me. Some of his hair has slipped free, thanks to our ride, and it flicks up rebelliously around his flushed face, giving him a wild, untamed look.
“Thank you,” I say, taking his hand after mentally molesting him.
I try and slide down gracefully, but nearly slip off as my legs are like jelly from straddling the horse. Quinn, of course, catches me, and I land safely with both feet on the ground.
The adrenalin from the horse ride is pumping through my veins, and I don’t think twice when I turn my face up to meet his warm lips, totally owning his mouth. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I press my entire body against him, suffocating us both, while curling my fingers into the hair that sits loosely at his nape.
Quinn moans, and the sound is music to my ears as I heighten the kiss, pulling away slightly and sucking his lip into my mouth, softly nibbling on his hoop. We make out for a few minutes, and as I pull away, my well-kissed lips tip into a big smile, feeling extremely sated.
“Thank you for this. It’s perfect,” I whisper.
Quinn looks a little flustered, his cheeks rosy and lips swollen, and I stop myself from reaching in and kissing him again.
“So are you,” he replies hoarsely, his eyes heated.
When I hear a bark, my eyes snap over Quinn’s shoulder.
“Lucky?” I ask in disb
elief, my stunned eyes retuning to Quinn’s.
“When did you organize all this?” I gasp, because he’s gone to so much effort.
“Never you mind,” he replies, pulling on my hand and leading me over to the rug.
We both sit, and I stretch my legs out, patting Lucky to come sit near me. And everything is perfect.
***
After a traditional Cajun meal, I am so stuffed I’m surprised I can move without assistance. There hasn’t been an uncomfortable moment between Quinn and I, and the conversation has been light and fun.
But as the evening draws to a close, I can’t help but feel a little sad, as this will probably be our last night here. I could almost pretend that for a moment I was just a normal girl on her first date, with someone who has changed everything.
But now that reality has set in, I realize I don’t want it to end.
“You don’t want to leave?” Quinn asks, lying beside me, staring up at the stars.
“No,” I reply, my hands crossed over my belly as I lay stargazing with him. “But I know that we have to,” I sigh.
“I’ll never forget my time here. Thank you for this. All of it has been an experience I will never forget,” I say, turning my head to meet his warm eyes.
“We’ll come back, I promise,” he replies, and I don’t correct him, because at the end of this, I’ll be either in jail, or dead.
I don’t want to spoil the moment, so I simply remain quiet and get lost in the star-filled sky above me.
Chapter 15
Crave
As we walk into the foyer of our hotel after a boat ride back along the Mississippi, I feel my heart begin to race. After I said a reluctant goodbye to Samson the horse, his owner came via boat, and traded us the horse for the boat.
I can’t believe Quinn had gone to so much effort, and now that we’re back, I want to do something for him. I psyche myself up for what I have in mind, blowing out a small breath before the elevator doors open. Quinn reaches for my hand and we silently stroll down the hallway toward our room. As he unlocks the door, my heart begins thumping so loudly, I’m surprised he can’t hear it.
Slipping off my jacket, I toss it onto the chair nervously.
“Do you want a drink?” Quinn asks, walking into the kitchen, oblivious to my near hysteria.
“Um, just water thanks,” I reply, sitting onto the sofa, curling my legs underneath me.
He returns with a tall glass of water for me, and a beer for himself.
“I’m happy we’re staying another night,” I say as I accept the glass from his outstretched hand.
Quinn nods, most of his hair slipping loose around his face, and as he sits near me, his scent kicks me in the guts with its delectable fragrance. “Me too,” he replies with a smile.
There is a static crackling between us, and I know what I want and need to do. But how am I meant to do this? I’ve seduced men in the past, but that was all make believe, and so totally different. But this, right here, is real. That’s what makes it feels as if it’s the first time—and in a way, it is.
I watch Quinn’s throat swallow as he takes a sip of his beer, and am mesmerized by the way his predominate Adam’s apple bobs with the movement. There is no part of him I don’t find attractive, or don’t want.
He places the beer onto the coffee table, and I take a small breath before I make my move.
“Thank you for today, Quinn,” I whisper.
“It’s okay, Red,” he replies, looking at me oddly as I shift slowly to straddle his lap.
“It was the best day of my life. And as far as first dates go, I dare say it’s up there as being the best first date in history.”
Quinn smirks, tilting his head back against the sofa, peering up at me, his emerald eyes sparkling brightly. “Gee, I’ve really set a precedent now, haven’t I?”
He appears calm, but I can feel his heart beginning to race as I place my palm over his chest.
“It doesn’t matter what we do.” I smile. “As long as I’m with you, everything else can fall into place around us.” I lean forward, kissing him softly.
The moment our lips connect, everything around us doesn’t exist, and it’s just us against the world. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Being on top of Quinn, I’m able to control the kiss, and surprisingly, he’s allowing me to. I deepen our connection, opening up to him, my mouth never leaving his lips as my hand descends down his chest. I can feel his nipple ring under my fingertips, and I want more than anything to be toying with it with my tongue. But now, I’m on a mission, to be toying with something else with my tongue.
My fingers pass over each bump in his abs, and he exhales loudly as my fingers still at the waistband of his jeans, brushing over his belt buckle, making my intentions clear.
“You don’t have to,” he says, his heated eyes searching my face, fully understanding what I wish to do.
“I want to,” I reply quickly, because I do. “But I don’t know how. I’m sorry.” I’m embarrassed at my lack of experience.
Quinn shakes his head, which results in more strands of hair slipping free from his ponytail. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that. I’m honored that you’ve shared your body with me, and you wanting to touch me—I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.”
I dare not argue that that is actually me.
His belt buckle comes freely undone as I flick it open, and my shaky fingers thankfully get the top button of his jeans unbuttoned easily enough. My eyes drop to his lap, and I can’t help but admire the massive bulge poking through his jeans.
Now the hard part.
I watch Quinn’s eyes darken as I slowly slide his zipper down halfway and gently slip inside with hesitant fingers. When my fingertips pass over him, I gasp and pull my hand away because he’s not wearing any underwear. I should have figured as much, seeing as he didn’t purchase any from the store.
Wetting my lips, I tell myself to man up and go in for a second feel because I want this. So biting my lip, I return my hand into the warmth of his pants. Holy shit, he feels unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. He’s soft and smooth, as well as being hard and firm all at the same time.
Quinn’s eyes never leave my face as I begin exploring him a little more confidently, enjoying the feel of him gliding under my fingertips like hot silk. I lower my eyes, witnessing my hand moving gently within his partially lowered jeans, and also catching sight of his delicate, dark hair peeking out from his open zipper. That, combined with his hardened V muscle, which tenses as I stroke him a little more firmly while boldly rubbing my thumb over the silky soft tip of him has a slick dampness pooling between my legs.
“You’re soft,” I whisper, meeting his eyes.
Quinn smirks, tugging on his lip ring, his eyes drooping as I circle the tip of him quickly.
“Red,” he gasps, trying to remain still. “No man wants to hear they’re soft when his girl has her hands down his pants.”
A tiny laugh escapes me, but I don’t fail to notice the fact he just called me his girl.
“Am I?” I ask, stroking him softly, my small hands trying to hold all of him, but not even coming close.
“Are you what?” he pants, his mouth parted, the light catching off the barbell on his tongue.
“Am I your girl?” I ask, which also comes out breathy, as watching Quinn come undone because of what I’m doing is a bigger turn on than him doing it to me.
“Red, you were my girl from the moment I saw you. That’ll never change, I promise you. I’m yours for as long as you want me.”
I bite my cheek to stop myself from saying forever.
I seem to be getting a good rhythm, stroking him from root to tip, and before long, I’m working him harder, feeling his body shudder underneath my hands. But it’s not enough.
I want to see.
I want to taste.
My hand slows as I glide out of his pants and bend forward, kissing him on his parted mouth softly, befo
re sliding down his body, until my knees hit the carpeted floor.
“Red, you don’t—”
But I cut him off, shaking my head. “I want to. Tell me how,” I say, surprised at my confidence.
“Whatever you do is going to feel amazing,” he replies with a smirk.
Looking up at him, I slowly reach for his zipper, pulling it down the rest of the way, his erection springing free.
Wow.
My eyes widen, surprised at how big he is, and how he fits it down his pants without walking with a permanent limp. My mouth waters and I’m shocked that all I want to do is take him into my mouth and suck.
I reach for his jeans and slide them down his legs, watching the way his tiny leg hairs roll with the movement. Pulling his jeans out of his boots, my eyes fall between his legs shamefully, as I can’t look anywhere but there. Thankfully, I somehow get his jeans off over his shoes, and the sight before me of Quinn in boots, a shirt and tie, is a memory I will revisit often.
Another memory I will never forget is when I bend forward and take his large head into my mouth, sucking lightly. Quinn jerks off the seat, his hands clenching the cushion underneath him while hissing loudly. I look up at him with him in my mouth, and witness his eyes turn desperate and frenzied. So I take him in further, slipping my tongue out, and licking the underside of him.
“Holy fuck!” he gasps, and I take that as a sign that I’m doing this right.
He tastes how he smells—delicious. And I want more.
My hands slide up his legs and rest on his knees, and I use them as leverage to lean further into his lap. This allows me to take more of him into my mouth, and I don’t realize how far down he is until he hits the back of my throat and I gag.
Pulling back, I don’t let him go, as I like the feel of him imbedded so deep. But I soon appreciate I don’t even have half of him inside my mouth. Wrapping my hand around his thick base, I begin stroking him to match the motion of my mouth.
Quinn moans and I can feel him flex underneath me. The harder I suck and stroke, the harder he tenses.
Circling his tip with my tongue, I taste a salty liquid seep out of him, and as soon as his flavor hits my tastebuds, my core clenches in craving. I do it again and Quinn groans, throwing his head back, closing his eyes.