by Aubrey Irons
Yeah, she’s right. There’s no fucking way I’m going to handle this.
Her eyes flash at me, and almost in slow motion, she’s slipping forward and wrapping those perfect, plump lips around my cock. Her mouth is amazing, and her tongue is like silk, and I’m slipping my fingers into her dark auburn hair and holding her to me. She’s slow and deliberate, her hands on my thighs and using just those lips and that wild tongue to bring me closer and closer to the edge, until I’m practically gasping for a breath of air as I pull her off of me.
She looks up at me with soft, pouty eyes, and it’s the sexiest look of disappointment in the history of the world. “Why’d you stop me?”
“Because I was about to fill that mouth with cum, that’s why.” I growl out.
I turn to look for a condom when I feel her fingers wrap around my length, and when I turn back round, she’s grinning wickedly up at me. “Good.” I groan as she sucks me back in, and it’s barely a minute later before I’m gasping out her name as I grab her by the hair and explode white heat into her mouth.
I’m seeing spots, trying to stop my bullet-train of a pulse from exploding out of my chest when she stands and grins at me. She gives me a saucy looking raise of her brow before she turns around and slowly bends over across the bed on her hands and knees. She turns to look coyly at me over her shoulder. “Now what was that about me being on my knees?”
Holy fucking shit, this girl is a Goddess.
And there’s something about the transformation in a matter of hours from good-girl, prim little Quinn Archer to this new sex-Goddess of a woman bent over on my bed in front of me basically begging me to fuck her from behind that has my cock back to rock hard in seconds. I finish tearing the condom out of it’s wrapper and roll it on as I step up behind her and push the head against the silk of her opening. The way her moan sounds so soft and innocent in contrast with the forward, naughty way she’s just offered herself to me drives me wild, and I groan as I begin to push inside of her. My hands are on her hips, and she’s sliding back onto me as we both choke out gasps of pleasure as I slowly fill her all the way up.
And when we fuck, it’s raw and it’s animalistic, and it’s incredible. I’ve always said that fighting was the biggest high I’d ever had, and I do mean including sex. But that particular opinion shatters like a cheap imitation that night with her. This right here - this feeling of being one with Quinn Archer - is the highest I’ll ever be, and there’s something so real and right about it that the world slips away around us. She’s begging for it hard, and deep, and fast, and I’m giving her everything I have until I feel her seize up around me as the cooing moans drip from her lips. We both come crashing together, shuddering into each other as the world shatters around us and leaves us both breathless and gasping for air as we collapse onto the bed.
Chapter Eighteen
Quinn
The boxing bag hanging down from the ceiling in the middle of the room is the first thing I notice when I open my eyes. I’m still in Logan’s place. I’m also hardly the expert on the subject, but I feel like I at least know enough that “sleeping over” is pretty much top on the “not-to-do” checklist when it comes to casual hook-ups.
Of which I know nothing about, apparently.
Oh, shit. Shit-shit-shit-shit.
I should not have done that. What the hell was I even thinking? Drinks, skinny-dipping in a deserted rooftop pool? Did I actually buy all that crap? When I look back on the previous night, it just seems like some sort of cliched movie scene from some cookie-cutter romantic comedy, and there I was swallowing it hook, line, and sinker.
Hardly the only thing you swallowed last night. The thought has me blushing bright crimson and biting my lip.
I mean whatever happened to that first time being a “one-time thing”? What happened to calling it a mistake that I was just going to push to a dark corner of my mind, one that I’d keep covered with an extra glass of wine or three at any family get-togethers where I’d have to be around him? Yeah, a one time thing and here I’ve gone and done it again - twice.
I can feel Logan stirring behind me, the scruff of his chin brushing against the back of my neck as he absently kisses the skin there. The subtle movement is perfect, and at the same time, it’s terrifying. Terrifying because of how damn comfortable it feels being in his arms with the familiarity of that kiss on my neck.
What are we doing? Because as perfect and familiar as this feels, why does it also feel like some dirty little secret affair?
“Morning, gorgeous,” he mumbles, his arms pulling me tighter against his bare body. But I’m squeezing my eyes shut and trying to fight the swinging of my heart between wanting to let myself just sink into him or just jump out of this bed and run.
My phone chimes from the floor next to the bed, distracting me from the moment, but I ignore it and begin to shift towards him. “Logan, I- I mean, we-”
My cell goes off again, and I frown and turn back to grab it off the floor and peer at the text on the screen:
“I’m downstairs- Buzz me up! Let’s get brunch.”
It’s Reagan. My sister is downstairs probably trying to buzz my apartment, which I can’t hear because I’m naked in bed with her fucking brother-in-law.
“Oh, shit!” I’m bolting out of his arms and sliding out of the bed, looking wildly around for my clothes and trying to ignore the fact that I’m naked.
“Hang on,” He says sleepily, “I’ll walk you-”
“No, Logan, I have to get out of here.” I snap.
“Okay, okay. Relax, Doc-”
“Now, Logan.” I huff out quickly, yanking my shorts on and looking under the bed for my shirt.
“You know, for the girl who doesn’t do flings, you’re starting to get pretty good at this whole hit it and quit it thing, Quinn.”
I jerk my head up to see the dry smile on his face. “That’s- that’s not what I-” I shake my head. “I mean it’s no big deal, I just don’t-”
“So how about we just invite Reagan up for some breakfast then.”
He plucks my phone off the bed, and I shriek and snatch it back out of his hands. “Don’t you dare!” He gives me a thin smirk before his eyes narrow and he looks away.
“Wait, Logan, I didn’t-”
“Yeah, Doc, I get it.”
“I just mean she can’t-”
“She can’t know about this lurid little secret. I get it, Quinn.”
I’m dressed, but I’m just standing there across the bed from him, not really sure what I’m waiting for. Closure? Release? Affirmation that me running out the second we wake up and not talking about what happened doesn’t just make this whole thing even more messed up?
“Logan-”
My phone rings again in my hand and I wince. Logan just slides out of bed and pads across the loft to the bathroom, where he slams the door shut behind him.
“Hey, you okay?”
I’m walking through the Union Square Farmer’s Market with Reagan, picking over strawberries and trying to drag my mind away from what happened back in Logan’s apartment. I’m also trying to concentrate on whatever my sister is talking about. Clearly, I’m failing.
“Uh, yeah,” I shake my head and pop a strawberry into my mouth. “Yeah, I’m fine I guess.”
Reagan arches a brow at me with a sisterly look I know all too well. “Bullshit.”
“You know, you’re starting to swear as much as your husband, Ray.” I stick my tongue out at her. “You two are going to have to quit talking like sailors when the baby comes along you know.” I say, nodding at the small bulge in her stomach.
“Oh, give me a break. I happen to like my husband’s dirty mouth,” Reagan says with a wicked little wink, and I blush. Of course she doesn’t know that I’m actually blushing for a different reason concerning that particular dirty word-play.
Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a dirty mouth, Doc?
OK, yeah, that needs to get the hell out of my head right now.
/> “You’re distracted.”
“Hmm?” I try and look as innocent as possible, which is hard with thoughts of Logan’s cock throbbing through my head and the guilty blush across my cheeks.
“Is it work? No, wait,” Reagan peers into my face with a little grin. “It’s a guy, isn’t it.”
Crap.
“Nope.”
“Quinn.”
“Hmm?” My sister has this big shit-eating grin on her face and I look at her nervously. “What?”
“Uh, Quinn you have a giant hickey on your neck.”
The flush hits my face like a heatwave, and I cringe and look away as she laughs. “Well well! Cool as a cucumber Quinn is all turned around because of a guy! Do I need to save this date for posterity or something?”
I roll my eyes, trying to will the color away from my cheeks. “It’s not like that.”
“Well, then dish. What is it like?”
Forbidden? Off-limits? Wrong? Incredibly hot and the best sex I’ve ever had in my life?
“He’s- he's someone I shouldn't be with, like at all.”
Reagan rolls her eyes. “Well you’re talking to the right girl, you know. We’re in my wheelhouse now!”
Oh you have no freaking idea how right you are, Ray, I want to say. But of course I don’t.
“So, spill it! Why is this such a bad thing?” Reagan frowns. “Oh, God, this isn’t another workplace thing like with Andrew, is it?”
“Uh, no.” I swallow heavily and look away to avoid her look, but I know she catches me anyways.
“Quinn-”
“Ok! Yeah, sort of.”
Reagan’s eyes go wide as she grins at me. “At Archer? Is he like your boss or something?” She makes a dramatic face as she pokes me in the arm. “Ooo, so scandalous, girl!”
“Sort of? Not really I guess.”
More like just plain bossy?
My younger sister waves her hand as if brushing something away. “Oh, who cares then? I say go for it. I mean how long ago was Andy?”
We’ve moved on from the strawberries towards a stand selling cutesy “farm-style” kitchen utensils. “Uh, well, I also sort of live with him.”
It spills from my mouth before I can stop it, and Reagan about drops the wooden salad bowl she’s looking at as she turns to stare at me with her jaw on the ground. “What?!”
“No! No, not like-! I mean, he lives in my building.” I stammer, feeling more and more flustered the further down this rabbit hole we get.
“Ooooh!” Reagan shakes her head at me. “Well, yeah I guess that would make things complicated.”
Tell me about it, I think glumly, dropping my gaze to the ground.
She seems to see the fall in my face though. “Well, is he worth it?”
I shrug.
“Is he worth you?”
I hope so? On both accounts?
“Look, what are you doing now?”
We’re back from the farmer’s market in the lobby of my building, arms full of organic produce. I laugh. “Making salad for the next thirty-seven meals?”
Reagan giggles. “Look, let’s just drop this stuff off and go get brunch and mimosas or something.”
I make a face at her. “Mimosas, preggo lady?”
She rolls her eyes again, “I meant for you, doofus. You look like you could use one. I’ll just stick to orange juice and as many sugary breakfast carbs as they’ll let me eat.”
I laugh. “Sounds worth watching, but I actually need to catch up on some stuff for the new proj-”
And just then, the elevator lobby-door next to us decides to ding open, and without a second’s warning, Logan Dempsey walks right off and right into us. I briefly wonder what the odds of a sinkhole occurring at that very moment in that very spot are.
Reagan blinks. “Logan?” She looks at him quizzically. “What are you doing here?”
His face looks pretty much exactly how I’m sure mine does - frozen in absolute shock - but he manages to catch himself faster than me, standing there rooted to the spot. “Oh, I- uh, I live here.” He swallows. “I mean, I keep a place here. It’s a temporary thing.”
“Oh!” Reagan frowns, looking confused before she turns my way. “Quinn, why didn’t you tell me that Logan-”
I know it’s over when I can feel the heat just pulsing from my face. “Oh,” She finishes, giving me a strange little grin before turning back to him with a smile. “Oh you live here!”
“Uh, yeah, sort of.” His eyes dart to mine over Reagan’s shoulders, and I can see the flash of something in them. “Just a temporary space really while they're working on re-doing my penthouse.”
“Oh, right, of course!” Reagan turns back and looks pointedly at me, before she turns back to Logan. “Well, Logan, whoever she was, I hope you’ve got her locked back up now.”
He frowns. “Excuse me?”
“The jungle girl who gave you those crazy hickies on your neck!” Reagan grins, clearly relishing this moment while I just want to melt through the floor right there. Even stone-cold Logan looks totally flustered, and even borderline blushing as he laughs nervously. He brings a hand up to rub the marks on his neck, and it wouldn’t take a forensic team to figure out that they pretty much exactly match the size of my lips.
He forces out a chuckle. “Oh, yeah, that.”
The lobby of the building is so awkwardly silent for a solid ten seconds that I actually start to wonder if just running back out the door would be as horribly embarrassing a plan as it sounds.
“So, I’ll, uh- I’ll see you at the meeting tonight, Quinn.” Logan finally says quickly, his eyes darting across my face.
“Uh, yep. uh-huh.”
He opens his mouth as if to say something more, but then closes it instead and turns back to my sister. “Nice to see you, Reagan.”
He’s barely out the door before my sister is turning to me, the corners of her mouth curling up into a huge grin. “Oooookay, now we’ve got something to talk about, don’t we?”
I nod pitifully, looking at the floor and just wincing.
“I mean, I’m right, right?”
When I say nothing, she comes over and wraps her arms around me, and I just melt into her shoulder, sniffing and trying not to let the emotions get the better of me. “Hey, you know I’m the last person in the world who’s going to judge you for falling for one of Dad’s guys.”
“I know, Ray, but it’s just such a fucking cliché!”
Reagan shoots me a sharp look. “Well I don’t think I’m a cliché.”
“That’s because you aren’t! You and Hudson are like, soulmates or whatever, there’s history there.”
She smiles warmly at me. “Well, it seems you and Logan have histor-”
“Yeah, a one night stand is hardly history, Ray.” I say, barking out a sour laugh.
My sister shrugs. “Well, if that’s all it is, than what’s the problem?”
I guess my silence is enough for her to connect the dots, because the next thing I know, I’m starting to cry as she hugs me tightly and strokes my hair. “I don’t know!”
She squeezes me close, rubbing my back. “So, how about that mimosa now?”
I choke out a giggle through my sniffles into her shirt. “Yes, please.”
Chapter Nineteen
Logan
Quinn gives me this ridiculous sort of silent treatment-type bullshit over the next few days at work. I mean, she speaks to me when she has to, like when we’re in a meeting or something, but past that it’s like a cold, frosty wall.
And it’s pissing me the fuck off.
Beyond that, I swear she’s going out of her damn way to look fucking amazing around the office. Okay, it’s not like I’m witnessing some sort of porno slutty-doctor-outfit fantasy or anything. It's the opposite actually, and that's what so damn enticing about it. She’s formal, and all business, but there’s something crazy sexy about the way she wears her hair up, or pushes the dark-framed glasses she sometimes wears instead of conta
cts up the bridge of her nose. She’s got these fucking pencil skirts too that just hug every sweet curve of her ass and show off her legs, and I can’t help but let my eyes linger on her as she walks away from a meeting room, or leans over a desk to type a quick note.
But, while she might be giving me the hardest, most consistent hard-on in the history of the world, that doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed at her for freaking out after that last time together and then getting all weird with me. She’s acting like a total bitch, and it’s rubbing off on my own demeanor in not the best way. Bryce has already called me out twice in the last few days about my attitude. I’m sure he thinks it’s about the new project, which is fine because there’s no way I can tell him it’s actually because I can’t get my mind or my cock to stop dwelling on William Archer’s oldest daughter.
Which brings me to the other thing bugging me. I might be pissed, but fuck, this was never supposed to happen. Hell, this never should have happened the first time, but letting her get under my skin like this and having this whole thing simmer from fooling around into actually sleeping with her a second time is just ridiculous. So whatever bullshit mopey crap I’m feeling, I deserve it for not listening to my own fucking advice. And I can see through that “cold shoulder” routine of hers. She might be mad, but really, I know she’s embarrassed. She’s embarrassed that a girl like her let herself get caught up in a fuck-up like me.
But the frosty looks are starting to get to me, so I end up cornering her when coming out of her office later that afternoon.
“What.” She says, overly dramatic contempt dripping from her lips.
“Oh, drop the indignant bullshit, sweet cheeks.” I growl.
She blushes; “Don’t fucking call me that.”
“Fine.” I plaster a big fake smile on my face. “Quinn, this whole thing between us?”
“There is no ‘thing’ between us, Logan.” She hisses out, looking around as if to make sure no one’s looking. “There’s no-”