by Box Set
His last little stake of claim before accepting her dominance, at least for the scene.
Her grip tightened on his erection, and lust spiked in his bloodstream. Submitting to her wouldn’t be a problem at all. He pressed the vibrator into her free hand. “What’re you going to do with this?” he asked, his voice rough and low.
She just smiled like a pervy Mona Lisa. “Figure out if it feels as good for you as it does for me. Now, we need to take care of some business first. Safeword?”
“Lemondrop.”
“Do you have a caution word, that isn’t a hard stop but you want me to slow down?”
He shook his head. He didn’t need one.
She pressed up on her toes and kissed his jaw. “Don’t be afraid to say yellow or whoa or hang on a second.” Her tongue flicked out and caught on his three days of stubble, sending a shiver down his spine. “And feel free to talk. I like you talking. But I’ll do most of the touching, and that’s your gift to me. In return, I’ll be very, very nice to you. I get a charge out of that.”
He knew the feeling. Whatever made her happy. “Hands off, noted.”
“Good boy.” She grinned and wiggled the vibrator in the air. “I’ll use this soon enough, but for now… I want to see you touch yourself.”
She paced backward, sitting in the chair, her legs curled up in front of her body. Her dress slipped up one thigh, but not the other, and he could see enough shadow to torture himself with the fact she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. When she cleared her throat, he realized he’d been caught looking—and not touching himself.
He grinned and sat back on the bed. One hand braced behind him, the other on his cock.
She was starting him out easy, like he was a newbie. Or maybe she just wants to watch you jack off. Well, that was a possibility, too. He jerked himself roughly, remembering how she’d done it, wanting to get himself lusty enough to get some pre-come leaking out.
Really, all he had to do for that was think of what she was hiding under her dress. His eyes trailed back to the shadow between her legs. Then he jerked his gaze up to the swell of her breasts. Higher. Her mouth. Her skin, rubbed with coconut oil.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.
He refocused on her face. “You.”
“You’re hard.”
“You do that to me.”
“I could say the same thing to you.” Her hand slipped into the soft, flowing fabric of her dress and he heard her touch herself. A wet slide of fingers through folds, and he groaned at the distance between them.
“You want to come here?” She hooked her leg over the arm of the chair and rolled her hips, her dress falling away.
He rose quickly and crossed to her, his dick heavier now, more uncomfortable as he moved. He had to remind himself not to haul her out of the chair.
“Keep stroking yourself. Slowly. And I want you to lick me. Don’t make me come, just take the edge off.”
Like she had to ask twice. He’d thought he’d have to wait hours for a taste of her. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his legs spread wide, and he did as she asked. His hand on his cock, his head between her legs. He buried his face in the soft valley of her thighs and licked her until she squirmed and tugged on his hair.
“Oh, Quinn. You’re so, so good at that.” She sighed and gave him a little smile. “But that’s enough for now.”
Instantly he stilled, and when she pushed him away, he sat back on his heels. His mouth was wet from her. Her face was flushed and her legs shook as she stood. She pressed her hand to the side of his face and his heart pounded in his chest.
She tangled her fingers in his hair and tilted his head back. The tug went straight to his balls. There was a wild look in her eye, like it was a challenge to stay serene and clipped in her instructions.
“How do you want me?” he asked roughly.
“On the bed.” She grinned. “On your back, legs spread for me.”
Shit. Ask an honest question and you’ll get an honest answer. He jerked his head in a nod that didn’t go very far because she held on to his hair for a second longer, then gave him what felt suspiciously like she was petting him. Good boy.
Up he stood, and back he went. She followed, practically on top of him, except for when she grabbed the vibrator and a small thing of lube she procured from her purse.
She had lube in her purse. He nearly bust a nut at that image. Slicking up her ass and sinking into her somewhere in public.
Although given the way today was turning, it was just as likely she’d been waiting for an opportunity to use it on him. His dick bobbed eagerly at both thoughts.
As she climbed on top of him, her dress drifting softly against his skin before she pressed her body against his, separated only by that thin, floaty fabric, he almost asked her to take it off. Then he bit his tongue and stretched his arms out wide.
She laughed and kissed his chest, his neck, his mouth. “Nice restraint,” she whispered, amusement making the two words bounce.
“For you.”
“That’s even better.”
He heard a click, followed by a faint buzz that made his feet curl. “Wait…”
She laughed. “Nope. Lemondrop or bust.”
“So mean.”
“Yep. That’s the way this goes.” She rocked her hips against his erection. “And you’re going to like it. Maybe.”
He half-groaned, half-laughed as she wiggled her way down his body. The laughter died when her vibrator hit the middle of his inner thigh. Oh. He twitched, then exhaled.
He was trained to withstand torture. Could be dropped in a churning ocean in the middle of the night and not panic. Lie still beneath a hail of bullets and count rounds so he could pop up and cap a motherfucker.
This was nothing. This was— “Ah!”
“Ticklish?”
“No,” he lied, gritting his teeth.
“Honesty’s a virtue, Parry.”
“Yes, damn you. Little bit—ah!—a lot ticklish.”
“Good to know,” she said sweetly before she pressed the vibrator more firmly against the top of his thigh, an inch south of his balls.
Oh. Damn. That didn’t tickle at all. He spread his legs.
“You like that?” She rolled the small wand right into the crease at the top of his leg, then slowly dragged it around his sac and onto the base of his cock.
“Yes.”
“More?”
“Sure. Yes. Please.”
Around and around she went, working halfway up his shaft and then back down again, until he was thrusting against the vibrator to get more of the tingling rub against his engorged flesh. She added her hand in a loose cuff that she circled and pumped at the same time in a distractingly good twisting motion. And still that steady buzz that pulled everything tight and had him straining for more.
“You want to come?”
“Yes.”
“You like how that feels?”
“Fuck yes.”
“But you can’t come.”
He groaned.
“Not yet.” Her finger strokes got lighter as she danced around his swollen crown, plucking and playing him like a musical instrument. “I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.”
“What’s the good stuff?”
“My mouth.”
He moaned. Yes, he wanted her mouth.
“My fingers. My mouth, my fingers, and the vibrator all at the same time.” She leaned over him, her breath warm against his erection. “Ready to begin?”
Begin? What had the rest of this been?
“Quinn? We good?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.” Her touch disappeared for a moment, and he blinked down at her. When had he closed his eyes? She beamed back at him, then stuck out her tongue and licked him from base to tip. He pulsed his hips, bouncing against her mouth, and she lapped at him. God, that tongue. Pointy and pink and wet.
Her hands pressed against his thighs. Wide
r. It didn’t matter how adorable her tongue was, it wouldn’t distract him from what was coming next. But even as his gut tightened, his ab muscles rippling, he was anticipating her touch against his rim and he wanted it.
Damn it, he wanted it. He took a deep breath and sank into that feeling of anticipation.
The first touch of cold lube made him jump.
Her finger next was a warm and gentle relief. She circled his entrance, teasing, moving concentrically to what her mouth was doing to the tip of his cock.
The vibrator had slipped away and was pushed against his leg, but he couldn’t form the words to tell her that and she didn’t seem to care.
Taking a deep breath, she swallowed half of him into her mouth, sucking firmly as she shifted the angle of her fingertip and breached him.
He’d done this a few times. Not often enough to not have a what-the-fuck reaction and have his muscles clench up hard around the invading digit.
Leah, though, was a pro. She waited him out, then slid in further, slow and steady, and just when he was about to protest, her knuckles hit his taint and she rotated her hand just enough to hit the jackpot.
“Holy fucking shit!” he yelled as she pressed against his prostate.
She laughed.
His dick was leaking. His ass was clenched so hard around her hand he was worried for a second he’d hurt her, and she was giggling.
“Mmm.” She lapped up the fresh burst of pre-come she’d triggered. “Good?”
“Do that again.”
“I will,” she said slyly.
She didn’t. But she kept murmuring to him, laughing little compliments that made his head spin. And she found the vibrator and gave that a whirl instead of her mouth.
So it wasn’t his fault that he started begging her. It was all hers, the devious minx.
“Patience.” Her voice was lilting now, more playful than he’d ever heard before, and that sucked him in. He groaned an acquiescence that she must have understood, because she touched him again, this time with what felt like two fingers.
No way. No how. No—
Oh.
“Fuuuuuck…” he growled as she stretched past the first ring of muscle.
“Fuck isn’t lemondrop,” she whispered. “We okay?”
“We will be if you hit that spot again,” he grunted.
“I really love it when you growl.” She sighed as she pressed inside him. “And how tight you feel. You thought I was going to use the vibrator here, didn’t you?”
That had occurred him. He clenched in fear.
“Don’t worry, I won’t do that to you.” She kissed his hip as her curled fingers hit his skin. Bottomed out again. “Not today, anyway.”
Another groan, and she cut that off by twisting her wrist again. This time she stayed on his prostate and pulsed in and out, fucking him with her fingers.
Leah was fucking him. Jesus Fucking Christ, that felt good. And messed with his head, but it felt so good, the rest didn’t matter. “Yes, yes, fuck, do that,” he started babbling.
“Don’t you dare come. Quinn, you hear me?”
Barely. Her fingers. Jesus, he wanted to let go so bad.
She eased most of the way out of him, and he held his breath, waiting for that intrusion again. When it came, his cock twitched helplessly and he thought for a second it might all be over. Come everywhere, mission failed.
But Leah squeezed gently around his sac with her free hand as she pushed deeper into him, her mouth lower on his shaft now, and she hummed an appreciative sound as he tensed everything and managed not to lose his fucking marbles.
“Not sure…again…” He licked his lips and tried not to press back against her fingers, but it was so hard. The burning had faded and her finger was right there, right against that magic spot that made him see sparklers writing her name in the night sky. Leah. Magical Mistress of Orgasms. “Please.”
“That was very polite, Parry.” She flicked her tongue against the sensitive spot below his crown. “You’ve been very good. I think you deserve to come—”
Hot fucking damn.
“—In a few minutes.”
He actually moaned. Like a wounded animal. But even though lemondrop flashed through his mind, he wasn’t there. He took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded.
“Or now, because you’ve been so good to me.” She pressed deep again, at the same time as she took him into her mouth, and this time she hit his gland right away, and kept nudging it until his release exploded against her tongue.
She swallowed every last drop, then disappeared. He heard running water. And then she was back, curving around him, naked and soft.
“You finally took off your dress,” he mumbled as she stroked his arms and side.
“Naked naps are the best naps.” She kissed his shoulder blade.
“Wanna make you come, too.”
“You will. In a few minutes.”
He smiled and closed his eyes.
Chapter Nine
The next day and a half sped by a glorious montage of kissing and fucking and generally avoiding the wedding party Quinn was ostensibly on Miralinda to attend.
Leah asked him about that on Thursday afternoon as they stretched out on lounge chairs on the beach at her resort after a leisurely snorkel.
“I promise you, nobody cares that I’m pulling a disappearing act. Mick’s more my brother’s friend.”
“You came all the way here for a holiday with people you don’t want to spend time with?”
“That’s not what I said. I’d put up with their ugly mugs. But I’d choose you in a heartbeat any day. You’re way prettier. And smarter, kinder…”
“Real winners, your friends?”
He snorted. “No, they’re good guys. But Mick only has eyes for his bride-to-be and my brother’s mooning over the bartender. Plus they’re all wound up in the business that they’re starting.”
“As long as I’m not making you miss anything you paid money for.”
“Not a worry.” He kissed her head and patted her bottom, and she pushed the thought from her mind.
They ate at the middle resort that night, at a casual burger and fries place that overlooked the main pool. After she finished her burger, when she was just picking at her fries, Quinn picked up her foot and tugged it into his lap. They watched families splash together in the pool and talked about nothing and everything.
It was fantastic.
Quinn jokingly called it their sixth date.
She told him he couldn’t count all their meals as separate dates when they’d practically been inseparable for the last thirty hours. “Really our fourth, probably. It’s just a really long date.”
“In that case, I’m heading back to my room before I pick you up for our fifth date.”
“And what is that going to be?”
“A moonlit walk on the beach? Midnight visit to the disco? Head into town and drink rum punch with the locals?”
“I pick door number one, but it all sounds good.”
He squeezed her foot and released it. They paid their bill, then headed down the path to the beach.
She headed a few steps toward her hotel when she realized he was following her. “Wrong way, Mr. Parry.”
“Let me walk you in that direction—” He cut himself off as her mouth dropped open in mock outrage. She didn’t need an escort and they both knew it. “And let me take back that offer, Master Sergeant.” Half of his mouth stayed seriously sorry. The other half quirked into a partial smile that should have annoyed her to the tips of her toes, but it only got under her skin and climbed up her body on the inside. Hot, prickly, and not annoying at all. Chivalry was an authentic way of being for him, and it looked good. “I’m sure you’ll decapitate anyone who interferes with your safe and secure passage back to your room.”
“Damn straight,” she said, but her words were soft and appreciative of his thought.
“I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Take your time,
I’ve only made it three chapters into the first book of many I planned to read this week.”
When he returned, he’d dressed up a little, into soft-looking pants that she wouldn’t have picked out for him in a million years. A linen-cotton blend, maybe, they looked like something out of the pages of a Ralph Lauren catalog, and so did the light blue dress shirt he paired them with, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the edges of his tattoos creeping onto his forearms.
He looked like really expensive sin, and she wanted to pull him straight to her bed.
On the other hand, he’d gotten all dressed up. Date five should probably involve more than just getting naked.
At some point, you should talk about why this little bit of casual fun is now being counted in terms of dates. Five dates is a serious relationship by either of your standards. Her inner cynical-best-friend had a point.
On the other hand, how sad was it that the only best friend she had to express worry about a relationship moving too fast or getting too serious was a made-up one in her head?
She needed a life beyond online kink boards and the occasional fet con. Date five with a hot guy? Major win in the get a life category.
“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his arm, and she practically skipped as she took it.
The moon was brighter than it had been the night before, and there was some light from the resort as well. But as they headed down the beach, the crashing waves their only soundtrack, it felt almost as quiet as their night on the sailboat.
And when Quinn’s arm brushed hers, she twisted her hand and laced her fingers around his.
Leah Saunders, holding hands with a boy. Freaky. And fun.
But she could only take so much sweetness, so when they finally made it back to her room and tumbled onto her bed, she turned their conversation to a dirtier, more familiar place. “What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done?”
Quinn grinned down at her as he propped himself up on one elbow. “You holding me on the edge of an orgasm for a crazy long time yesterday ranks pretty high up there.”
“Come on. Tell me a secret.” She popped one of his shirt buttons out of its hole.