Neanderthal Seeks Extra Yarns (Knitting in the City Book 8)

by Penny Reid

  Quinn moaned against me and I opened my eyes, finding him staring at my hands, the haziness now gone, completely eclipsed by a piercing, determined heat.

  He moved both of his hands to my thighs and, in a fluid motion, wrapped my legs over his shoulders so my knees were behind his head. His fantastically talented tongue and mouth and lips sucked and licked and stroked until my toes pointed and curled and my abdomen wound so tight, I felt as though I might break.

  But then Quinn slid two long fingers into me and I swear I did break. I snapped, a shock of immense and immaculate ecstasy, painful and blissful at once. I came with such a sudden ferocity, my bottom launched completely off the couch, lifting into the air as I screamed his name like a screeching spider monkey.

  Abruptly, his mouth covered mine, wet with the taste of us both as his fingers still moved within me, petting me as though to anchor my body.

  “Shhh,” he said, lifting his lips from mine, “Janie. Not so loud.” Quinn sounded like he was laughing, or at the very least smiling.

  “Gabaguh.” Holy fuck.

  “Do you feel good?” His fingers slipped completely from my center, his hand sliding upwards to my breast. He grabbed me, his touch rougher than before, more aggressive, and my body felt his cock pressing against my inner thigh.

  I shook my head, my hands reaching for him, because they somehow knew: if Quinn was that gifted at cunalingus, sexual intercourse was going to be exponentially better than anything I’d ever experienced.

  “Not good enough.”

  He laughed, but he didn’t sound amused. He sounded . . . sinister.

  Biting teasingly at my lips, he whispered darkly, “You’re very loud when you come, and very greedy.”

  “Stop talking.” My fingers encircled his erection and I stroked, pulling a surprised sounding hiss from him. “No talking.” Who is that? Was that my voice?

  “Just fucking?” he asked, covering my hand with his to still my movements, his eyes arresting mine.

  I blinked at him, at his freakishly handsome face, his electric blue eyes, and the primal, avaricious part of me moved out of the way enough for a small sliver of reason to peek through. The set of his jaw held an edge of unhappiness and a glimmer of accusation shone from his gaze.

  “Quinn,” I said, sounding more like myself. “Are you—are you mad at me?”

  His expression softened and then heated; his attention dropped to my mouth, neck, and lower; he leaned scant inches away, devouring me with his eyes. “I’m so many things right now, Janie, none of which are mad at you.”

  “Do you want me?” It had seemed like the relevant thing to ask, so I’d asked it before calculating the vulnerability quotient of the question. Immediately, I wished for it back, and regret stirred my dormant mind.

  Before I could engage higher brain function, Quinn pulled my hand from his body. Entwining our fingers and moving them behind my back, his eyes swept up and returned to mine.

  “More than anything,” he answered, his face still freakishly handsome, his eyes still electric blue, and his jaw still set with unhappiness.

  But I didn’t get a chance to think about that, because his mouth was on mine again, kissing me as though starving for me. Strong arms came around my body and lifted me from the couch. Three purposeful strides later, he had me on the bed. But he didn’t come to me.

  I lifted up on my elbows and fought a flutter of panic as he stalked away to where his pants were on the sofa. He found his wallet, pulled out a foil wrapper, and tossed the garment away. Quinn turned just as he ripped open the packet with his teeth, his eyes on me.

  Gulping, an intense shiver sending goosebumps of awareness racing over and beneath my skin, I slowly lowered back to the bed as he approached, my eyes dropping to the progress of his magnificent hands rolling the condom down his ridiculously gorgeous shaft.

  “Gabaguh.” HOLY FUCK.

  Of course. Of course his penis was also freakishly perfect. Of course.

  Quinn’s gaze pinned me. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t faulter as he placed one knee on the mattress and reached for my calf. Tugging me down the bed as though I weighed nothing, he slid his hand between my legs, spreading my thighs and stroking my center, which apparently was now calibrated to immediate arousal upon the occasion of his touch. Great.

  Leaning over my body, he watched me through that slight glimmer of accusation, gaze direct and daring. “More than anything,” he repeated, the cadence of his voice cutting through my stunned lust long enough for me to hear the rawness and a hint of resentment.

  Once again, the ignition to my brain short circuited—which I know is mixing analogies, but just go with it— before I could process anything about his words, because he nudged my opening, rubbing himself against me, making my breath to catch. In the next beat of my heart, he was inside me, filling me, touching me everywhere, his gaze both steady, and yet somehow unstable.

  Our bodies moved together in a discordant pace, mine restless, his deliberate. Something about my eagerness paired with his patience frazzled. My hands found him, absorbed the feel of his muscles straining and rolling beneath my palms.

  Quinn grabbed my hands, entwined our fingers, and brought them above my head. Pressing them and me against the mattress, he ducked his head while continuing the slow rolling of his hips and sucked my breast into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the peak, he gave me no warning before biting, the sharp pain a delicious contrast to the careful caresses of my body.

  I’m sure I cried out again, but I couldn’t discern any individual sound, just the cacophony of sex: my cries, his rumbly grunts and groans, the bed hitting the wall, the smack of skin against skin. Sensory overload threatened a second time, hovering just beyond the horizon, tightening my throat even as flares and fireworks ignited behind my eyes.

  Like before, Quinn covered my mouth with his. But this time his kisses were rough and raw, demanding, dominating, and his mindful tempo abruptly became wild. Unexpectedly—because this had definitely never happened to me before—my climax peaked a third time, sharper, sending my heart into a frantic rhythm and the sparse wits remaining within my brain to the stars.

  Riding the cresting wave, I barely comprehended that Quinn had come along with me, that his body had lowered to mine, that he covered me fully and had gathered me into his arms, that he’d spoken, that his stubble still felt like sandpaper, but that was okay because he was raining worshipful kisses on my neck, chest, and shoulders.

  Because holy fuck.

  Holy fucking THOR!

  I glanced at him, watched his progress through narrowed eyes while trying to catch my breath. All reason had abandoned me, and still I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all. I wanted . . . I wanted.

  I wanted to do it again.

  Interview with Janie and Quinn

  Author’s Note: This interview was shared once on a reader’s blog, who has since become a good friend of mine. Angie (the interviewer below) was one of the first people to download ‘Neanderthal Seeks Human’ on Amazon March 2013. When I uploaded the book for my friend’s bookclub, I HAD NO IDEA that people out in the world would also download and read it (and enjoy it). If you ever come see me in Texas at a signing, I guarantee you will also meet Angie. She is always my table assistant in Texas.

  Angie’s questions and words are her own, but I wrote all of the Janie and Quinn responses (and reactions).

  HEY EVERYONE!! Summer is here, school is out, and I've decided to pay a special visit to two of my very favorite people, Quinn and Janie. I just arrived at Quinn's office for the interview. When I talked to Quinn's right-hand woman, Betty, she promised Janie would be at the office too.

  *knocks on the open door and walks into Janie's office*

  ANGIE: Hey guys, am I interrupting? I'm so excited that I get to interview you today! **Shakes Quinn's hand** Quinn, what a nice office. *blushes* I don't think I've ever been frisked before an interview before, but, Dan's kinda cute, so no harm done. Thanks for taking the tim
e to answer a few questions. Prepare yourselves, because I have given these questions serious thought and you're going to have to dig deep for these answers. *smiles mischievously* First and most important question, Quinn do you think you will ever learn how to knit?

  QUINN: No. Next question.

  ANGIE: *Grumbles to herself* Nico knits and it's kinda hot....Ahem. Okaaaay. Janie, you and Quinn have been working together for several months, how do you like working with him?

  JANIE: It’s really good! I like it. He’s very to-the-point, which I prefer. When I’m at work I want to work. It makes me a little nuts when people want to stop by and chit-chat, because I always end up saying something inappropriate and then the conversation just… ends. And then they stop making eye contact with me.

  For example, a woman at my previous workplace was telling me that she’d just purchased a Scarlet Macaw. They are lovely birds, but I question anyone who would have one as a pet. I told her about how parrot rescue groups estimate that most parrots are surrendered and re-homed at least five homes before reaching their permanent destinations or before dying prematurely from unintentional or intentional neglect and abuse. She became very upset. So I tried to calm her down by telling her I thought she’d make an excellent owner and asked her if she’d made arrangements in her will for the parrot after she died, because she was in fifty-nine and had just purchased the bird. So, obviously and if she were a responsible owner, the Scarlet Macaw was going to outlive her as they live up to seventy-five years in captivity.

  She abruptly left and never talked to me again.

  ANGIE: *blinks several times* Wow! Janie, your vast knowledge of trivial facts always leaves me speechless. *Turns to Quinn* Quinn, since we're talking about it, what is the best/favorite trivia fact that you have learned from Janie?

  QUINN: Recently I learned that there is an annual feline beauty contest in Bucharest. The winner gets a crown. Over two hundred cats participate… *lifts his eyebrows*

  ANGIE: That's......interesting. Apparently, I need to spend some time on Google. In Neanderthal Seeks Human, Quinn and Janie "officially" meet at a club opening. At this club were a few questionable people and when Elizabeth was called to the hospital, Quinn asked Janie to go home and not stay at the club alone. She didn't listen. Quinn, I've always wondered, what was your first thought when you found out Janie didn’t leave the club the night of the opening?

  QUINN: I thought I was going to have to kill someone. I’d asked the guys at the door to let me know if she came back. They did, but she was already upstairs.

  ANGIE: When you found Janie had been given a drug and wasn't herself, why take her back to your sister’s apartment and not yours?

  QUINN: I took her back to Shelly’s place because I never bring women to my home. At the time, Janie was a woman. Not much later, she became Janie, the woman.

  ANGIE: So Quinn, when did you know that Janie was “the one”?

  QUINN: I don’t want to answer this question. Next question.

  JANIE: You have to answer it. We promised we’d answer every question.

  QUINN: *Stares at Janie, jaw ticks* Fine. It was when we were at Grant Park and she asked me what kind of magical creatures I would want if I had magic sperm. Then she offered to be my personal sperm repository.

  JANIE: Now tell her why. *Janie grins*

  QUINN: *Quinn, with no inflection in his voice, says* Because I’d never been so surprised, speechless, and turned on at the same time.

  JANIE: I love that story!

  ANGIE: Me too!! *Stares dreamily at Quinn* Quinn, has anyone ever told you that you look like David Gandy? No? Huh. Well you do, and Janie is a very lucky lady. *Continues to stare dreamily* Oh, sorry, I got a little distracted. *looks at notes* Where was I? Quinn, has anyone ever told you that you look like...Sorry! Sorry! I keep getting distracted. Janie, how do you not lose your train of thought when Quinn looks at you?? *shakes head slightly* Ok, I think I'm good. I know y'all are planning your wedding. Janie, what do you think is the perfect wedding gift for Quinn?

  JANIE: Me naked. Sorry. That might be vulgar, but it’s all he seems to want.

  QUINN: That’s true *He smiles*

  ANGIE: Quinn, what is the perfect wedding gift for Janie?

  QUINN: A trip to any library

  JANIE: *Laughs* That’s so true!

  ANGIE: I love how well you know one another! Now, this is the speed round. I'm going to ask you a question and you both are going to give me the first answer that comes to mind.

  What are your biggest fears?

  QUINN: Being corrupted by power.

  JANIE: Coming to like and/or rely on my cell phone.

  ANGIE: Boxers or Briefs? Commando or undies?

  QUINN: Boxers.

  JANIE: Panties! Sexy lace panties!! All the time.

  QUINN: *Narrows eyes* Liar.

  ANGIE: Beer ,Wine or Whiskey?

  QUINN: Texas whiskey

  JANIE: Wine. But my favorite is lemon drop shots.

  ANGIE: I've never had a lemon drop, but Quinn, *winks* I can totally hook you up with some Texas Whiskey. Back to the speed round. Night or Morning person?

  QUINN: Both

  JANIE: Neither. I like to sleep.

  ANGIE: Batman or Superman? Cat woman or Wonder Woman?

  QUINN: Batman

  JANIE: Wonder Woman

  ANGIE: Islands or Mountains? Beach or Snow?

  QUINN: Mountains, Snow

  JANIE: All of the above. I can’t choose. I love it all.

  ANGIE: Last question for the speed round. Paperback or e-book?

  QUINN: E-book

  JANIE: Paperback

  ANGIE: That was great!! *Smiling* Janie, I want to thank you and Quinn for allowing me to bother you at work. I sincerely love the both of you and can't wait for everyone to read about your wedding in Neanderthal Marries Human!

  ~End~

  Extra Scene: Neanderthal Seeks Honeymoon (canon)

  Author’s Note: Dear Reader, This scene takes place during Janie and Quinn’s honeymoon, so within a few days after the end of Neanderthal Marries Human. It was originally included in the limited release, Scenes from the City. I hope you enjoy.

  I KNEW BEFORE we’d departed for the private island paradise—on our honeymoon in the Caribbean—that I was not good at lazy vacations. Therefore, I brought a list of various tasks and research I hoped to accomplish.

  Obviously, since it was our honeymoon, we had a lot of sex. I think we christened every surface of the cottage, the beach, the ocean, the inside shower, the outside shower, the ottoman, the wall outside the cottage, the hammock—THAT WAS FUN!—the hot tub… I really had to focus to have sex in the hot tub, however, because it’s the ideal environment for the multiplication of microbes. I couldn’t stop thinking about it…

  After seventy-two hours of reenacting the Kama Sutra (yes, I did bring the illustrated guide, because it felt like if we were ever going to get a chance to test out all possible sexual positions, our seven-day honeymoon with no access to or interruptions from the outside world was that chance), I think Quinn was experiencing orgasm fatigue.

  “Can’t we just…hold each other?” Quinn asked, then groaned—half tortured, half aroused—as my hand moved from his chest to his stomach, my mouth at his neck, biting.

  “What about talking? We could talk,” he offered.

  I giggled; I couldn’t help myself. Of note, I was giggling a lot. Maybe it was all the intercourse and being dominated by Quinn’s body in all the strange places and positions, but I was feeling giddy, girly, and giggly.

  “There are several passive positions in the guide. You can just lie there if you want,” I suggested, my hand drifting lower.

  He gritted his teeth, his blue eyes flashing at me, “I can’t ever just lie here, not when you’re so close.”

  I lifted my eyebrows, wondering if I could turn this into a challenge of some sort.

  I quite enjoyed the fact that I’d worn him out, especially since he’d bee
n responsible for packing our clothes—or overseeing the packing of our clothes—and had seen fit to bring only string bikinis for me. That’s right; no underwear, no pajamas, not even a sundress. I had my wedding dress and string bikinis.

  Our day-one conversations went something like this:

  “Quinn! Where are my clothes?”

  “In the bag.”

  “The only things in here are string bikinis and suntan lotion.”