Something Like Redemption (Something Like Normal #2)

by Monica James

  “Red, you gotta stop,” he pants, his body quivering beneath me. “I’m going to come in your mouth if you don’t.”

  But I don’t want to stop. Like he has said to me, I want him to be in my mouth when he does.

  I let him go and slowly lick him from root to tip. I don’t know if I’m doing this right, but I’m using his curses as a guide. Judging by the profanity passing through his clenched lips, I must be doing okay.

  I loved the way he felt at the back of my throat, so I relax and slide my lips over his length, taking him back down until he hits my throat. He shudders and tries to pull back, but I don’t let him go, loving the power I have over his body as he crumbles beneath me.

  I’m so turned on by the taste, sight, smell, feel of him, a small whimper escapes me, my body shaking in need. And as I hear him murmur how good it feels, the pressure building in my core is making me violently achy and wet, and I need a release.

  Wickedly, I slip my hand under my tights, and begin touching myself over my panties with Quinn still in my mouth. I moan, which comes out muffled as he’s slowly thrusting his hips forward, his hands resting in my hair, guiding how fast and how deep he wants me to go.

  I pull my lips back, as I’m about to choke, meaning I can only suck a quarter of him. So I begin palming the rest of him, watching him come undone.

  He is a beautiful beast, lost in a wave of pleasure with his eyes shut tight, wisps of fallen hair shrouding his face, and full lips parted, gasping for air. The look of unrestrained yearning contorts his entire being, and when he draws his lip ring into his mouth, my body shudders in heated desire.

  Quinn’s eyes snap open as he hears me moaning, rubbing myself while pleasuring him.

  “Holy fucking hell. Are you touching yourself?” he asks, his eyes widening as he sees my fingers working quickly between my legs.

  Whimpering as I rub over my swollen bud, I can feel his hot stare slice through my body as he watches me pleasuring myself while pleasuring him. As my fingers quicken, matching the rhythm of my mouth, Quinn groans loudly and I feel him tense underneath me.

  “Oh fuck,” he gasps, trying to pull out of my mouth, but I latch on, my cheeks hollowing with the suction.

  I feel the first spurt jet down my throat, with more to follow in quick succession. I nearly gag, but I swallow everything he gives, wanting him inside of me. As his body jerks and spasms under my mouth, my hand quickens, desperate to bring myself to release. I’m not far off, as watching Quinn explode with a thunderous scream because of me is the hottest thing I have ever seen.

  Before the last spurt rocks his body, he’s on me, pushing me backward, shoving the coffee table out of the way so he can lie me down onto the soft carpet.

  As he covers my body with his, I’m taken off guard and confused, but as he reaches between us, yanking my dress up and my tights and underwear down, everything becomes crystal clear.

  He lowers his mouth and buries his head between my legs, his mouth devouring my soaked core. I cry out because I’m already so close, and it doesn’t take long before I’m screaming out my release in long, labored pants.

  This is the most erotic experience of my life, and the thought of what I did, combined with what Quinn is doing to me now, has me spiraling to yet another release in the span of a minute. But Quinn doesn’t stop until I beg him to, certain I will die if I come apart again.

  I’m spent. I’m sticky. And I’m shaky.

  But would I trade this feeling for anything in the world?

  Hell to the fuck no.

  Chapter 16

  New Adventures

  This time, I’m the first to wake, although, I wish I wasn’t, as I’m curled around Quinn’s body, his warmth my personal sauna. I wonder why I roused, as I’m completely sated and warm.

  However, that quickly changes as I hear a distinct banging on the door, followed by a loud voice shouting, “Open up, it’s the police!”

  Now I know what woke me.

  My relaxed body springs upright with my heart about to burst through my chest. I brush back my hair, my ears needing to confirm if what I heard is real.

  As the thumping pounds louder against our door, I jump out of bed and frantically shake Quinn to wake him up, because this shit is real. Lucky growls low in his throat, but I softly shush him, and thankfully, he seems to understand the dire situation we’re faced with and remains quiet.

  When Quinn doesn’t stir, I shake him once again.

  “What?” he moans, his eyes slipping open.

  But I place my finger over his lips as the banging continues.

  The moment I widen my eyes and mouth, “Police,” Quinn bolts upright, his eyes wild as he jumps out of bed, slipping on his jeans and sweater in record time.

  I follow suit, balancing on one foot as I slip my boot on, not bothering to tie my laces as I slip my knife snugly inside.

  Quinn grabs his wallet and backpack, motioning with his head toward the window. I nod, reaching for my backpack, but sadly, I don’t have enough time to gather anything else, as the banging keeps getting louder and louder.

  Quinn softly unlatches the lock and steps out onto the balcony, holding the bifold door open for Lucky and I.

  “What are we going to do now?” I ask, looking around for an escape route, but not seeing anything unless I fancy plummeting eighteen stories to my death.

  Quinn sucks on his lip ring, his eyes frantically searching for an escape. As he looks to his right and peers up, he sees it.

  “Up, Red. We gotta climb up.”

  I see where he’s looking and cringe, but there is no other option.

  “What about Lucky? We can’t leave him here,” I say on the verge of tears.

  Lucky looks at me with his brown eyes. His freshly pampered fur from his extended stay at the doggy day care whips in the breeze, and my heart breaks at the thought of leaving him behind.

  Quinn looks between me and the dog, noting my heartache. “I’ll carry him,” Quinn says, giving me a quick kiss to the forehead.

  He carefully steps over the low balcony rail and settles onto the narrow ledge, testing its strength. His back is resting against the railing, his hands braced behind him, holding on tight.

  His hair whips violently in the wind, and he turns his neck to look at me.

  “I’m going to scale across, okay? When I’m about halfway close to the platform on the other side, you follow.”

  Looking at the rusty old platform, which is about twenty steps away, I can’t believe how a five star hotel can have such a dangerous fire escape and not be shut down. It looks as if it hasn’t been operational since 1901, and I can see some of the steps are missing. But it’s the only escape route we have.

  “You can do this,” he affirms, in tune to the fact that I’m near having a mental breakdown.

  Quinn extends his hand, indicating he’s ready for Lucky.

  Nodding, I pick Lucky up and carefully pass him to Quinn, who tucks him securely under one arm. Lucky whines and Quinn coos to him as he takes his first small sidestep, scaling across the thin ledge, heading to the platform that has a rickety old fire escape leading to the roof. My heart beats in my throat as I watch him, holding onto the rail with one hand, and Lucky in the other. I can’t watch, but I also can’t turn away until I know my two boys are safe.

  This is the stuff you see in movies, where trained stuntmen and safety cables are involved. Sadly, we have neither.

  Only when Quinn is close to the platform, do I take a deep breath and step over the rail, just like Quinn instructed. I feel everything inside of me shrink in fear, as I’m not a fan of heights, especially death-inducing heights. I don’t know why, but I feel safer doing this with my eyes closed, which is certainly not recommended by anyone, I’m sure, but I can’t do this with my eyes open, as the less I see, the better.

  I mentally count each step, and counting to twenty has never taken so long. My hands have a death grip on the rail, and I try my best to step as quickly as possible w
ithout slipping, trying to think of anything other than the fact I am eighteen stories up in the air.

  Mercifully, I feel Quinn’s hand grab my wrist, and I open my eyes as he helps me over the rail and onto the platform, which shakes violently in the cruel wind.

  “Watch your step,” he says, looking up. “I’ll be behind you, Red. I won’t let you fall.”

  I know he means that in every possible way, and I nod, taking a deep breath as I hold onto the banister and take my first step.

  Quinn is true to his words, as he is only one step behind me, and when I step through a stair, nearly falling straight through, Quinn grabs me from behind, steadying me. Thankfully, the rest of the climb is less eventful, and we make it up in one piece.

  Quinn grabs my hand the moment we make it to the top of the roof, which is about twenty-two stories up, and he pulls me toward the door. I let out a breath as it’s open, and we bolt down the stairs, two at a time.

  The only sound is our feet pounding frantically on the steps, and our labored breaths, which are bouncing off the concrete walls. As I see the numbers on the walls decreasing as we descend, floor by floor, I tell my burning muscles it’s only a little further, and then this will all be over.

  Finally, we get to the ground floor, both panting and puffing, but running on pure adrenalin.

  Quinn opens the door cautiously, looking out through a sliver, and after a few seconds, he motions with his head that the coast is clear. We both walk out quickly, not wanting to draw too much attention to ourselves, as patrons are already looking at us strangely, probably appalled by our disheveled state.

  Both our boots pound on the marbled floor and as the front door slips into view, I breathe out a premature sigh of relief, then a burly policeman steps out of nowhere and blocks the exit while talking into his walkie talkie. Quinn reaches for me, pulling me behind a wall, shielding me with his body.

  “What are we going to do now?” I ask into his chest, panting loudly, as his heart pounds against my cheek.

  Quinn doesn’t reply, he only peeks out from behind the wall, spying on the officer. He pulls back in, cursing under his breath.

  “This is my fault. I’m so sorry, Red. I didn’t think the police would be onto us so soon.”

  Pulling out of his embrace, I raise my eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  He only shakes his head and peeks back out to see if our exit is still blocked.

  My heart is racing, and I feel my stomach churning. This is it. This is really it—but I’ll be damned if Quinn goes down with me. I try to shrug out of his hold, but his arms tighten around me.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he snarls, understanding my plan of giving myself up.

  “It’s the only—”

  But Quinn pulls me out into the foyer before I have a chance to finish my sentence.

  We’re headed toward the door, which is no longer manned, and I shrink into my hair, as I can see two police officers by reception, talking to Janet, who has her hand pressed to her chest. A look of pure horror is plastered all over her painted face, no doubt realizing that she was flirting with a fugitive.

  We’re almost at the exit when the concierge steps forward, opening the door for us, his back toward the police, blocking us from their view.

  “Go to 352 Labouri Street. Tell Jason I sent you, and that you’re Quinn.”

  Quinn sighs, touching the concierge on the arm. “Thanks, Rodney.”

  Rodney? How does Quinn know his name? Before I have time to question him, I’m getting yanked outside and we’re running down the street, our boots thumping on the pavement.

  I’m gripping onto Quinn’s hand like it’s my lifeline, as I’m afraid to let it go. But I’m not afraid for me. I’m afraid for him. What if he gets hurt because of me? My stomach rolls with the thought, and I think I’m going to be sick.

  “We’re nearly there, just a couple more blocks,” Quinn says reassuringly, mistaking my apprehension as fatigue.

  We reach the address minutes later, which is a two story house with a big garage attached around the back. Quinn lets go of my hand, jogging to the side of the house, calling out to Jason. I follow close behind, my steps slower than Quinn’s as I feel like my legs are about to collapse from under me.

  A young man comes out from the garage, rubbing his greasy hands on a dirty blue cloth.

  “Can I help you?” he asks, eyeing us suspiciously.

  “Hi, I’m Quinn. Rodney sent us,” Quinn says breathlessly.

  The young man nods, looking behind us before replying, “Follow me.”

  Quinn and I follow quickly and are led to the adjoining garage.

  “Wait here,” Jason says, while walking into the side door.

  “Quinn, is this safe?” I whisper, keeping my eyes peeled on the door.

  “It’ll be fine,” he says, drawing me into his arms and kissing my brow.

  We stay this way until we hear keys jingling and the garage’s door motor groaning as it winds up, revealing the inside of a workshop. As I look inside, I see there are endless cars and workers modifying them, and I don’t want to know what goes on in here. I have a feeling the less I know, the better.

  “Okay, she’s all yours,” says Jason, tossing Quinn a set of keys, and opening the door of a black, late 70’s Chevy truck.

  My eyes widen, as I’m seriously in the dark, but now is not the time to question it, as we need to get the hell out of Dodge.

  Quinn opens my door, all but lifting me into the cab and reaching over, buckling my seatbelt for me.

  “Sorry, Red,” he says, kissing me quickly on the lips before racing over to the driver’s side, Lucky jumping in before him.

  “Thanks for what you did for my daddy,” says Jason, and Quinn gives him a quick smile before starting the engine with a roar.

  “Don’t mention it, kid,” he replies, throwing the car into drive and fishtailing it out of the garage.

  Quinn pulls onto the road with skill, and is speeding away from our near capture in a matter of seconds. The road blurs before me, and I grasp onto the door handle for support—and it’s not because of Quinn’s erratic driving. Now that the adrenalin has worn off, my body is threatening to give out.

  “What did you mean by sorry? And who is Rodney?” I ask breathlessly, looking at Quinn, who is concentrating on the road.

  Quinn blows out a frustrated breath before he replies, “It’s my fault the police are on our tails.”

  “What are you talking about?” I gasp, turning in my seat to look at him.

  He clenches his jaw, and I know he’s furious at himself for whatever he did.

  “I used my credit card to pay for your things. I wasn’t thinking, and it was too late to take it back without making a scene. I didn’t think the police would catch up to us so quickly. I knew we were leaving today, so I thought by the time the police got around to checking out if it really was me who used the card, we’d be long gone. I’m so sorry, Red, this is all my fault,” he says, frowning.

  But I’m not really listening, because all I can focus on is the fact Quinn paid for everything. I just assumed he’d used Tabitha’s money.

  “Did you pay for everything?” I ask.

  Quinn nods, confused. “Yeah, of course, why?”

  “I just… I just assumed you’d use Tabitha’s money,” I reply shamefully.

  Quinn opens his mouth in understanding, and turns to face me as we stop at a red light. “I wanted it to be a real date, and using Tabitha’s money didn’t sit right with me. Call it pride or whatever, but I wanted to do it right.” He pauses, fisting his hair into an angry peak as he sighs. “But now I’ve gone and fucked everything up,” he says, frustrated, stepping on the gas as the light changes to green.

  His notion of paying for everything is old fashioned and totally unnecessary, but it’s also so incredibly… sweet. He did this, all of this… for me.

  Before I can stop myself, I slide across the bench seat, nearly squashing Lucky in the process,
and throw myself into Quinn’s lap, straddling him.

  “Red!” He chuckles as the car swerves slightly.

  I crouch down low and nestle into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, toying with the hair at his nape. I don’t care he nearly got us caught, and I don’t care that the police are probably a hair’s breadth away from finding us.

  All I care about is holding onto him and never letting go.

  “Thank you,” I mumble against his chest.

  “Thank you? You’re thanking me for nearly getting us caught?” he questions, pulling the car over when I make my intentions clear that I’m not moving.

  “I don’t care about that,” I mutter against him. “All I care about—” I pause, afraid of my honesty.

  But as I hear the steady beating of his big heart, a heart that has been so kind to me, a heart that has cared for me since the very beginning, I’m sick of being afraid.

  “Is you,” I whisper.

  Quinn wraps his arms around my back, pulling me tighter into him.

  After a minute of silence, Quinn says against my head, “All I care about is you too, Red.”

  Melting into his arms, I sigh when I bury my nose into his neck, relishing in his familiar, comforting smell.

  “Good. Now shut up with the apologies.”

  And that earns me a chuckle.

  “How do you know Rodney? I mean, we’ve been here for less than seventy-two hours, and you’re making friends with someone who just saved our ass. What’s the deal?” I ask with a yawn. Being wrapped in Quinn’s arms seems to make me relax enough to feel sleepy.

  “I helped him out,” he replies vaguely.

  “How?” I persist.

  Quinn chuckles again and I feel his nipple ring shift under my cheek. “Those pretentious jackasses at his work were accusing him of stealing.”

  “How do you know he wasn’t?” I ask, snuggling closer into him.

  “I just knew. Rodney’s not a bad guy. Some other prick was stealing, and because Rodney was ‘just’ a concierge, of course he had to have done it. In those people’s eyes, he was nothing but an underprivileged, uneducated doorman.”