Owning Swan

by Blake, Carter

  Quinn

  Where did this girl come from?

  There’s an innocence to her that becomes more apparent the more time we spend together. She presented herself as standoffish at Marty’s, but now I see it’d been nothing but a facade. It occurs to me that I’ll never be able to think that word again without flashing back to our conversation in the car.

  “You can put up a fight about my invitation,” I say, before I lick the seam of her pussy. “But allow me to present my case.”

  I trace her folds with my tongue, light and playful. She shivers, but her legs draw closer, restricting my access.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” Her cheeks are bright red. “I’m just…Yesterday was my first time. I’m a little jittery because no one’s ever…”

  I push myself up, my chest tightening.

  Fuck.

  “You were a virgin? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because it’s been years since we finished high school and I was embarrassed,” she murmurs. Sitting up, she pulls the blankets across her chest, slumping her shoulders. “I didn’t want you to think I was damaged goods or anything like that.”

  “I could never think you’re damaged goods,” I say. “It’s just that I would’ve been…” I run my hands across my face remembering last night. “Wasn’t it too rough? I should’ve taken it slow and easy.”

  “It was perfect,” she says on a small sigh. “I just hope I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I lean down and kiss her lightly, softly, slowly. “It was the best night I’ve ever had.”

  It would be crass to say she blew all of the women I’ve ever been with out of the water, but I hope she figured it out from the subtext.

  “Really?” Abby was glowing, a smile that could light up the entire world appearing on her face.

  “In fact, I think I should show you how amazing you were,” I say, lowering until I’m facing her pussy again. “If you want to stop, let me know. You don’t have to close your legs.”

  “Oh, that.” She pauses for a moment as if she’s working out what she wants to say. “I get self-conscious. You. There. I’m not closing my legs because I want to stop. It’s just that this is all new to me.”

  “Abby, let me tell you something.” I kiss her inner thighs. “You’re beautiful. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. And another thing you need to know is”-I run my tongue down the middle of her pussy-“just because you’re the star of this show doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself. You taste”-I spread her pussy lips open with my mouth and thrust my tongue inside her before emerging again-“so good.”

  And she does.

  I’ve always been big on getting head, but she’s the first woman whose taste is intoxicating. She can’t possibly know how big a turn on it is to bury my tongue inside her tight little pussy, to circle her clit until she’s vibrating, to get her so hot that she’s radiating need.

  Her moans turn louder, and her breathing gets shallow. True to her prediction, her legs threaten to press together, which only means I have to hold them apart with my arms as I increase the pressure on her clit.

  “I want you,” Abby moans. “Right now. I want you more than-”

  My tongue is hard inside her, but it’s not even close to how hard my cock is. “You want me more than what?”

  “More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  I kiss her in a frenzy, her legs propped up over my shoulders. She isn’t expecting that first thrust, and the element of surprise makes her body quiver. She’s so wet that sliding in and out of her is deliciously easy, and soon enough, I’m pounding my throbbing cock into her like my life depends on it.

  Because right now, it does.

  “Fuck,” I moan. “God, Abby.”

  She’s in another dimension, her cries louder and more desperate than they were yesterday. The angle she’s in allows me to plunge deeper inside her, hitting the exact spot I know will make her come all fucking over me. Her mouth opens and before she can tell me she wants it rougher, harder, faster, I’m pistoning into her with the full force of my body.

  “I’m going to come,” she cries, her voice jagged.

  Those are the words that hit the sweet spot for me. I’m on the edge myself, but I don’t want to go over it alone.

  “On the count of three,” I say, panting, “you’re going to fucking come for me.”

  She nods. Her pussy grips my cock, and a spasm that’s the tell-tale sign of an impending dizzying orgasm pulses around me.

  “One.” I thrust harder, readying myself to erupt inside of her.

  “I…Quinn-”

  “Two.” Our bodies collide again.

  “God-”

  Her body trembles and she lets out a final yell, so loud I swear the walls shake around us.

  My own orgasm washes over me, setting every last nerve in my body ablaze. I die a thousand deaths, the savage euphoria blurring my vision for a single interminable moment.

  Chapter 8

  Abigail

  That man should walk around with a health hazard sticker attached to him. The way he makes my knees wobble and bends me to submission is downright sinful.

  I can’t get enough of it.

  On the ride to his house, the memory of our morning sex plays in a loop in my mind. Quinn is driving, oblivious to the dirty thoughts in my head. Still, I know he can feel the undeniable pull, the smoldering electricity that’s ever-present between us.

  His place by the lake isn’t so far away from mine that I can get lost with my introspection for too long. Quinn parks his car outside a quaint, one-story house. A flag dances to the wind in his driveway. I’m tempted to ask why he didn’t pull up there, but decide it’s not important.

  What’s important is that in a few short minutes, I’ll have to put on the heinous bathing suit that’s, regrettably, the only one I own. It fits me all wrong. Too loose in some places, and too tight in others. Never failing to squeeze my ass so every last bit of cellulite shows up. The equivalent of full-body dimples, except it’s not nearly as cute.

  “Come here,” Quinn says, wrapping me in a tight embrace. He kisses my forehead before pointing to the direction of the outhouse. “You can get changed over there. I’ll be right out. Just need to find my swim trunks.”

  “Sure thing.” I have bigger concerns than how long it’ll take Quinn to get ready. I, better than anyone, can attest to how fit he is. He could just wear nothing and people would stop to ogle him. And even more unsavory things.

  Unsavory if they’re not with me, that is.

  It’s naive of me to already be this into him, but I am. My crush on him during high school was based on looks more than anything else. We connected on a deeper level than that in the car. What happened on my bed was the cherry on top.

  And what a cherry it was.

  Locking the door behind me, I’m overjoyed to find there are no mirrors anywhere. If I’m to make it out of this room wearing only the swimsuit that was the source of all my body issues in high school, the safest bet is for me to not be able to see what I’m doing. To just do.

  I change quickly and then emerge outside, hoping to get in the water before he has a chance to see me. As it happens, Quinn is already there, waiting for me. And he has nothing on.

  “I couldn’t find them, and after two minutes, I got bored of looking. There are better places to be and much better things to see out here,” he says, nodding my way. “You just happen to be Exhibit A.”

  I unfold the towel in my hands and cover myself up. “No fair. I look ridiculous in this getup. I only bought it for Travis Hollister’s end of junior year party at his house. And then, when your brothers saw me come in with it…”

  Why are you dusting off ancient memories? Especially the ones about Tate and Killian?

  My lack of game will be the death of me. If I’m really lucky and all the stars are aligned, it won’t be the death of Quinn and me.

  “What about my brothers? And
which one of my brothers?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “Never mind. It’s not important.”

  “Abby, tell me. What did they do?” There’s no trace of Quinn’s previous good spirits anymore. His face is a mask of anger, and he seems to be just waiting for me to supply him with more details so that he knows on whom to unleash it.

  “I don’t want to spoil the mood,” I say. “Please, let’s just get in the water.”

  “Okay, but if you want to get anything off your chest, don’t hesitate. They might be my brothers and I love them, but if they’ve done something to you…”

  “Why dwell on the past? Let’s just get in the water.” I give him an award-winning smile, hoping it defuses the accidentally tense moment.

  Another reason to get in the water is that if we don’t, I won’t be able to keep from boring a hole through him. That sculpted body of his can make a girl forget her own name (to put it like he did) all on its own. But when you see it from a distance, there’s an extra wow factor.

  It becomes less about me and him, and what pleasure awaits the both of us, and more about him. In his own element.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asks, walking my way too deliberately for me to believe he doesn’t have an agenda.

  “Wait, Quinn, what are you doing? The way you’re looking at me is ringing all sorts of alarm bells. Why don’t you just-ahhhh!” I yell as I fall in slow-motion, heading toward the water. When I finally land, the surface tension feels like whiplash.

  He pushed me in. The bastard pushed me in.

  “I can’t believe you did that! You-”

  He cannonballs in, splashing me anew. I swallow the lake water, cursing Quinn and hoping he-

  Something pulls me downward, and though I struggle to keep my head above the surface, I can’t. Just as I’m submerged, I look down and see Quinn is the mysterious creature intent on pissing me off. I jerk and kick him until he lets go of me, which he does. He floats up and I follow him, jumping out of the depths and inhaling sharply.

  “What the hell?”

  “You should have seen your face.” He sinks because he can’t control his laughter, and it’s so childish and giddying that it wins me over. Soon, we’re cackling, wading around the lake.

  “This is great,” I tell him after we’ve gotten over our mutual fit. “I mean, aside from you trying to terrify me.”

  “Isn’t it?” Quinn swims to me. “There’s only one thing wrong.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know why you’re not skinny dipping with me,” he says.

  Because I don’t want you to see me buck naked in the clear light of day. Especially when anyone could be watching us.

  It’s what I want to say, but I don’t.

  “Come on. Won’t it be better if you join me au naturel and we can do all sorts of things here in the privacy of a public lake?” And he’s not joking.

  “Quinn…”

  “Are you self-conscious?”

  I look away. “A bit.”

  “You don’t have to be, you know. You’re a ten. You know what the first thing I thought about you was, when you walked in at Marty’s?”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “That I was the only age-appropriate girl in the entire place and if you wanted to get lucky that night, I was the best choice. All the others were someone’s mom or a guy, and you’re not gay so…”

  Quinn makes a flippant hand gesture, like he’s going to allow me to talk crap about myself. When he sees I don’t intend to finish that sentence, he says, “You have to stop putting yourself down. Remember when I said you’re beautiful? That’s what I thought. And that you have great legs. The kind any man wants wrapped around him.”

  A flock of swans appear many yards away, all making the same noise. I want to respond to what he’s saying, to tell him that he makes me feel like there’s molten lava swirling around in my chest and I’m always one short step from dissolving into a puddle when he talks about me like that, but their beauty overrides anything else.

  I point to the birds. “Are those swans?”

  He glances at them and nods. “Yeah. I’ve seen them around town in other parts of the lake, but never here. Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Today must be my lucky day.”

  Chapter 9

  Quinn

  We spent hours on the lake. Eventually, the swans got too close, and since there were so many, I decided it was better to call it a day. It’s true that there is safety in numbers and they clearly beat us in that arena. Abby stared at them from the shore of the lake for several more minutes before coming inside.

  The mid-afternoon sun made for a perfect, lazy day. Abby opts to take a shower while I whip up a snack for the two of us. I slide into clean boxers and go to the kitchen. My cooking isn’t great, but it’s decent enough. Abby doesn’t seem to have any trouble eating whatever is in front of her, so I know even something simple will bring that gorgeous smile to her face.

  More importantly, my house is stocked with actual food. The utter lack of anything healthy in her place was a surprise. There’s something about her that makes you think she’s prim and proper. A stickler for doing things the right way.

  And yet she has no food.

  I shake my head, amused.

  It has to be crazy to be this into someone. We went to high school together, sure, but that was a lifetime ago. It took a chance encounter for her to show up on my radar, and I can scarcely believe she wasn’t on it before. Abigail Swan has to be the epitome of everything I want in a partner. Quirky, down-to-earth, and is blindingly attractive even though she doesn’t know it.

  I’ll make her believe she really is everything I tell her. No compliment is a fabrication. She’s genuine and warm. Such a departure from the last of my high school girlfriends, Sheila. The one who embittered me and made me avoid relationships like the plague.

  “Something smells nice,” Abby says.

  A sweet aroma emanates from her, and it’s all I can do to not leave the scrambled eggs in the pan to burn so that I can grab her and take her again. Right there on the kitchen counter, since there’s no time for us to relocate somewhere better.

  “You have naughty in your eyes,” she says. “What are you making?”

  “Nothing fancy,” I say, yawning. “We didn’t have a real breakfast this morning so I figured you could use the nourishment. You’ve been busy, after all.”

  “That I have.” She sits down on one of the stools lined up along the breakfast counter. “You have a really nice place.”

  “Right after I found out I wasn’t going to have a career, I managed to sign one last lucrative deal, endorsing this sports equipment that we use in our district for other high schools in the country. I had a high enough profile that the company’s advertising department decided I was a good fit for the demographic, even though I wasn’t going to go on and play college ball. That money bought this place.”

  It’s not the first time the subject of my so-called retirement has come up with Abby. Eventually, she’ll want the full story. It’s the cornerstone to who I am today, so it’s a natural course of things for us to talk about it.

  But I don’t feel ready right now. The pain of losing the promising career I had ahead of me weighs on me. When the hurt passes, it’ll give way to anger. The kind of rage that makes your reality splinter in front of you and rids you of your good cheers.

  “Where did you go just now?” Abby asks.

  “It’s just that bringing up those old memories has a way of gutting me. You would think I’d be immune to it by now. But I haven’t truly moved on.” Suddenly, the eggs in front of me are the most fascinating things I’ve ever seen. I can’t look away, and I certainly can’t meet Abby’s eyes.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I would prefer it if we don’t.” I use the silicone spatula Derek’s wife got me for Christmas to scrape the residue off the bottom of the pan. “Could you get the plates from those
cabinets over there?”

  “Sure,” Abby says. “One second.”

  She reaches for the top shelf and her oversize shirt rides up, revealing the underside of her perfect, round ass. My cock twitches at the sight. I can’t get too carried away because she pivots on her heels and comes back a quick second later.

  “Were you checking out my ass?” she asks glibly.

  “Are there swans outside?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s your answer,” I tell her. Equal amounts of buttery eggs scrambled to divine precision go in each of the plates. “Forks are in the first drawer to my left. Could you get them for us?”

  She did and soon we sat down to enjoy the chow I threw together. Abby has to eat one forkful before exclaiming, “God, what is in this?”

  “A whole lot of cheese. I’m a cheese snob.”

  There’s no stopping her from putting it away almost immediately. She scrapes the bottom of the plate, saying, “You can’t imagine what the last full meal I had was. This makes me never want to leave your place ever again. I wish I knew how to cook.”

  “It’s a thing you pick up when your diet is completely different than your asshole brothers’ eating regimen,” I tell her. “So, why don’t you tell me more about your writing? I’m curious.”

  “What about it?”

  “Legal thrillers?” I arch an eyebrow. “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with them. It just doesn’t seem like a genre you’re all that passionate about writing. Especially if you’ve been blocked for months.”

  “It hasn’t been quite that long,” she says. “But you’re right that it’s not my genre of choice. I met an editor who told me that’s what’s hot at the moment, and I’m following her advice. It’s between this and epic fantasy. Romance always sells well but it’s not my wheelhouse. Like, at all.”

  “Well, why not?”

  “It’s not a girl thing, you know. Romance isn’t about just writing some half-assed story with a ton of smut. The characters go through this journey, and developing that journey takes a special skill set. I really admire romance authors. In a lot of ways, I wish I could write one, but…”