Chasing My Forever

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “Huh?”

  Quinn smiles. “Do you remember when I told you I joined a band?” I nod. “Life has been crazy, and I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to call you back.”

  “Likely story.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry. I try not to be aloof and it’s completely out of character for me to ignore someone. It wasn’t my intention. I honestly underestimated how time-consuming the band would be.”

  I let his words sink in and decide I don’t really care. My days in L.A. are numbered and I have nothing to lose. I propel myself forward and attack his mouth with mine. His hands are instantly all over my body, and the liquor he’s consumed makes his kiss even more dangerous.

  Tonight, I want to live dangerously. “Can we get out of here?” I ask, out of breath. I continue to press my lips to his, waiting for his answer.

  “Yeah, we can. My place?”

  “Perfect.”

  25

  Quinn

  Nola sits beside me, her arm tucked into mine, and my hand rests between her thighs. Her fingers are playing with my necklace. The medallion that hangs from the chain was a gift from my mom after she adopted me.

  Tonight, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. Not only did our gig go amazingly well, but I also ran into this woman, who I’ve desperately wanted to see, but figured too much time had passed. I’m an idiot for not calling her back and putting in an effort to stay in touch. Having her pressed against me like this, it feels natural. It’s not forced or an eager attempt to get laid. Right now, I’m content with just holding her if that’s all she wants. It’s honestly not what I expect after the way I pushed her aside.

  The cabbie pulls into my complex. I toss him a few twenties and take Nola by her hand, pulling her behind me. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I’ve been busy.”

  I let her in, turning on the light. She stands there, looking at my bachelor pad, making me wonder what she’s thinking. Most of the stuff is new after Elle moved out, but it’s still a guy’s place. The painting on the wall is crooked; there are beer bottles on my coffee table, dirty socks on the floor and a nudie magazine sitting on the couch.

  Of course, the magazine grabs her attention. “You look at this stuff?” She holds it up with two fingers as if the pages are contaminated.

  “It’s not what you think.” As soon as the words are out, I wish I could take them back. Stepping forward, I take the magazine from her and put it back in the drawer where it belongs. “A long time ago, the magazine did a spread…”

  Nola raises her eyebrow at me. “Okay, wrong choice of word. They did an article on my family, like really dug deep and tried to expose the skeletons in our closets, but my dad, he turned the tables on them and the article was this masterpiece of how to achieve goals by working hard and how to survive in the industry. I was reading it before tonight’s gig, for inspiration…” I let my words trail off. I should probably order her a taxi to go home and just lose her number at this point.

  “Did you play tonight?”

  I nod. “Before my dad’s band. They let us open for them. That’s why the crowd was so huge tonight.”

  “They’re popular.” It’s either a question or a statement, I’m not sure, which.

  “Do you want to sit down, or I can order you a taxi to take you back to your place. I’m sure the magazine…”

  “The magazine’s fine, just caught me off guard. Most guys I know hide them in their room.”

  Slowly, I shake my head. “That’s my only one. You can look around if you want.”

  “I trust you.”

  She trusts me. Those words, I definitely love to hear. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’d love a beer,” she says, looking up at me. Screw beer, I want to sit down next to her and get to know her some more. However, I do as she asks and bring back two cold ones and pop the top for her. Nola takes a drink and makes the cutest and sorriest bitter beer face. “This is gross.”

  “Sorry, it’s all I have.” I look down at my bottle, wondering why she doesn’t like it, especially as she asked for it. I happen to think it taste damn good.

  She sets the bottle on the table and buries her face in her hands. My hand instantly goes to her back and starts rubbing. “I’m sorry,” she says.

  “For what?”

  Nola shakes her head, pushes her hair back and rearranges the way she’s sitting so she can face me. “I’m not a huge beer fan. I don’t know why I asked for it.”

  “What do you like?”

  “Wine.”

  “I have wine.” I get up and grab the bottle and a glass. I’m pouring it into the glass as I walk back into the living room. “Before you ask, my sister left it the other day.” I hand her the glass of red something or other. Elle told me what it was, but I wasn’t paying any attention.

  “Oh, this is good.” She takes another sip. “Shit, it’s really good. I’ve never had cranberry wine before.” Leaning forward, Nola refills her glass. “Do you want to try?” she asks as the glass is poised to touch her lips.

  “Yes.” I take the glass from her, only to set it down on the table, and reach for her. She comes willingly, straddling my hips. My hand rests against her cheek and my thumb brushes lightly over her cheekbone. She turns slightly, kissing the palm of my hand. I bite my lower lip to keep some control over this situation. I want to pounce, to pick her up and carry her to my bedroom so I can devour her, make love to her until the sun comes up, but I don’t deserve her. Not after the way I treated her.

  Nola grinds into me, pushing herself deeper into my groin. My response is immediate, and I let her know what she’s doing to me. Her hips start to move back and forth, creating the smallest amount of fiction, but it’s enough to send shockwaves through me.

  My thumb moves over her lower lip. Her tongue darts out, wetting the pad of my skin. There’s a shift in the air, both of us know it. For me, it’s in the way she’s looking at me, with hooded eyes and a devilish smirk. “What are we doing here, Nola?”

  She grinds her hips into mine. “I don’t know, but I like it.”

  “So, do I. Can I take you to my room?” My hands move under her shirt. She tenses for a moment, but smiles.

  “I’m ticklish.”

  “Good to know.”

  “About your bedroom…” She pauses. This is where she tells me we’re just going to make out and I’m okay with it. Nola’s hands find the hem of her shirt. She lifts it over her head and tosses it behind her. I swallow hard at the sight of her plump breasts covered by the lace of her bra. I swallow hard as an unsteady hand reaches out to touch her. “Quinn,” she says my name quietly. “Bedroom.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I scoop her up into my arms, carry her into my bedroom, and set her down on my messy bed. “I’m sorry my bed is a mess.”

  “Quinn, I don’t care. What I do care about is the amount of clothes we’re wearing.”

  This side of Nola is unexpected, a bit daunting and very welcome. I’m happy to accommodate and do as she asks.

  The sun beams through my bedroom window, shining its rays onto Nola. She lays there sleeping, with her hand tucked under the pillow and her blonde hair spread out. About an hour ago, I moved it away from her face, so I could stare at her. I’m probably being a creep, but after last night and earlier this morning, I think we’re past the stage where anything we do to each other could be considered disturbing.

  This woman, the one who I made love to all night, the one who screamed out my name in pleasure and dug her nails into my skin, showed me what I’ve been missing. The way she responded to my touch, like her body needed mine to survive, sent me to a whole different level emotionally.

  I have never felt so connected to a woman before like I feel with Nola. It’s as if we’ve known each other for years, been in each other’s lives from the beginning. I don’t want to go as far as saying she’s my soul mate, but I feel that she is. The way my heart is beating right now, I think she’s th
e only one who can tame it.

  “You’re staring at me,” she mumbles.

  “Your eyes are closed, you know nothing.”

  She smiles. It’s soft, genuine and perfect. I lean forward to give her a kiss, but she shies away. “Morning breath.”

  “I don’t care,” I tell her. I’m in hot pursuit, trying to pin her down and when I do, the urge to take her again is there. I flex my hips. “Are you sore?”

  Her lower lip is nestled between her teeth. It’s her tell. She wants what I’m offering, what I’m ready to give her. I learned this after round two. I watched for signs to make sure I was giving her the pleasure she needed, that she demanded from me.

  Her body gives me the answer I seek when it arches into me. Leaning over her, my hand seeks protection in my empty drawer. My face falls as I let out a groan.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “It seems to me that we’ve used my supply.”

  “Oh,” she says, but doesn’t stop rubbing up against me. My hand rests on her hip, trying to make her stop, but she doesn’t.

  “Nola.”

  “I’m on the pill, if that’s any consolation.”

  “Yes, it is, but I wouldn’t feel right.”

  She holds my face between her hands and raises her hips. I’m right there. I can feel her heat surrounding me, welcoming me. “I need you, Quinn.” Her kiss is urgent. Her desire for me is coming off her in waves. I shift to her side and let my hand do the work, giving her what she needs.

  “More,” she urges, gripping my shoulders and pulling me toward her. Does she see the struggle I’m going through? Can she not see how much I want to dive right into her, to feel her clamp down around me? “I’m safe. We’re protected.”

  Her words split time between my heart and brain. One is saying go for it, while the other is telling me to back off and take a cold shower. I don’t know which is saying what though because my thoughts are jumbled. They’re mixed up between what’s morally right and what’s pleasurable.

  Pleasure wins. Hands down. Consequences be dammed. If this is the one bad thing I do in life, I’m doing pretty good.

  I’m in mid-thrust when someone says my name. I look at Nola because she sounded a lot like my mother when she said my name, except she’s looking back at me like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Honey, I knocked, but you didn’t answer and the door… Quinn James!”

  “Shit, Mom.” I scramble to cover Nola and myself up. “Get out of my room.”

  “Oh, my goodness.”

  “Fuck,” I say aloud. My fist slams down on my bed multiple times as I continue to swear.

  “So, that’s your mom.”

  “Yep, and I guarantee she’s picking up my living room, doing my dishes, and waiting for us to come out.”

  “Oh.”

  I turn to look at the beauty lying next to me. I can’t imagine what she’s going through, although I have to say I’d rather get caught by my mom and not Nola’s Dad. There’s something about a dad catching his daughter getting laid that doesn’t sit well with men.

  Sliding next to her, I kiss her temple. “I know it’s early, and we just started this thing between us, but do you want to meet my mom? If not, I’ll send her away.”

  “Yeah, sure. I mean, she’s seen my tits, might as well know my name.”

  I laugh and pull her on top of me. Like the devil himself, I’m ready to finish the deed, and because I have no self-control, I push my hips into her.

  “Stop,” she says, swatting my chest.

  “Just the tip? Now that I’ve had you, I can’t resist you.”

  Nola sits up. The sheet pools around her naked body and instantly my hands go to her chest. Fuck me. This woman is a goddess and if I play my cards right, she’ll be mine. “How about I tell my mother to go away? This way, I can finish what I started.”

  She shakes her head. “First impressions are important and right now, I’m not making a very good one with your mother and I’d really like to.” Nola leans forward, dangling her glorious breasts over my chest. “Quinn, take me to meet your mother.”

  “Anything for you.”

  26

  Eleanora

  As much as I hate it, I slide out from under Quinn, pulling the top sheet with me to cover up, and scramble to pick my clothes up off the floor. I don’t look at him when he sighs or when his bare feet come into view while I’m on my knees, looking for my shirt. A shirt that doesn’t seem to be anywhere on his bedroom floor.

  “Have you seen my shirt?” I ask, without looking at him. I imagine his hand is pushing through his hair. Hair that I had between my fingers not so long ago until his mother… Oh, my God… his mother! “Quinn, please help me find my shirt,” I say in complete panic.

  “I think it’s in the living room.”

  Nothing but pure dread washes over me. I want to cry. I’m beyond embarrassed that we were caught. Who doesn’t lock their door? This is freaking Los Angeles for goodness sakes. And, I’m horrified. So, freaking disgusted with myself right now. Not only because his mom caught us, but because when he wanted to finish, bareback, I almost let him. What the hell is wrong with me? Who can even think about sex after that? Apparently, Quinn and me. It seems that we have no morals or values right now.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I stand and cinch the sheet tighter. “How am I supposed to go out there and meet your mom? She already knows we’re screwing and now I have to walk out there like this?” I point to myself to add emphasis.

  Quinn doesn’t smile. He doesn’t even frown. He continues to look at me with contempt in his eyes.

  “What?” I ask.

  “This wasn’t just sex for me, Nola. I really like you.”

  “Okay.”

  He steps forward. “No, not okay. I’ve never introduced anyone to my parents before and I know getting caught isn’t the way to meet my mom, but…” He pauses and closes the gap between us. One of his hands is on my hip, pulling me closer, while the other is under my chin, tipping my face up so he can look into my eyes. If I weren’t nervous, I’d be melting into his embrace. “I really like you and would love for you to meet my mom.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. “But I don’t have a shirt, Quinn.”

  “Would you like to wear one of mine?”

  No, because it’s so obvious, but I guess his mother already knows, given that she walked in on us. She’s seen my boobs. Oh, Lord help me, she’s seen my freaking boobs. I’m going to hell in a handbasket right now. His mom is going to hate me.

  I nod, and he leans down to kiss me. “We should get out there,” I say after he pulls away.

  Quinn groans. “I’m so sorry I didn’t lock the door.”

  Oh, now he’s sorry. I guess in the grand scheme of things, it’s better that his mother walked in and not some axe murderer. We could be dead, chopped to pieces and stuffed into garbage bags, heading for the landfill where no one would find us. Quinn and I could’ve become an unsolved mystery all because of his carelessness. And now my mind is getting carried away. Sofia really must have done a number on me.

  “Maybe next time we lock it after we come in.”

  He smiles. “Next time. I like that.”

  Me too and so does my body because the thought of being with him again, sends a new wave of energy through me. “Can you get me a shirt?”

  Quinn does as I ask, thankfully, it’s just a plain black shirt. For a brief moment, I had visions of him giving me a band shirt, making me look like the ultimate groupie.

  Is that what I am? A groupie? I want to escape. I want to run and hide and forget this ever happened. But Quinn, he’s smiling, like this situation is something comical.

  “My shirt looks good on you,” he says as he kisses me. “I’m going to go out there and talk to my mom. The bathroom’s through that door.” He nods to the door behind me. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.” With another kiss, he’s out the door and leaving me to more thoughts on how horrible this situation is. I
’m going to have to save face with a woman who caught me having sex with her son.

  I do my best to straighten out my hair by leaving it in a ponytail. Braiding it would take too long and a bun screams messy, and well, I’m trying to erase the image she already has of me.

  Quinn’s shirt is too long and tucking it in is near impossible without it bunching up in my shorts. I push the front in and call it good. My face though… it’s another story. I have razor burn from Quinn’s scruff and my makeup is everywhere. I do my best to clean my face, but there’s no mistaking the look of shame. I guess I’ll have to wear it well, and proudly.

  Quinn likes me, and I’m downright infatuated with him right now. I have been since I first saw him and mistakenly thought he was Sofia’s brother. What a mistake that was. They’re nothing alike and the woman I saw standing in his doorway definitely isn’t Alicia for which I’m extremely thankful. I use the toilet, wash up and square my shoulders. I can do this, I tell myself. Even though I’ve never been in a scarier position in all my life. The Tucker’s house, notwithstanding.

  I find Quinn and his mother sitting at his small dining room table. When he sees me, he stands, smiles and comes to me, taking my hand. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Nola. Nola, this is my mom, Katelyn.”

  “Mrs. James, it’s such a pleasure to meet you,” I say, extending my hand to shake hers. She hesitates, eyeing me up and down. I don’t even want to know what she’s thinking because if it were me, I wouldn’t be keen on shaking the hand of the woman bedding my son. But she does. Her movements are slow, but nonetheless, she puts her hand in mine and we shake.

  Quinn motions for me to sit next to him. The tension in the room is thick, but Quinn is either completely oblivious or he just doesn’t care. His mom doesn’t smile or even make eye contact with me, but she’s looking at her son with a stoic expression. Maybe he was supposed to save himself for marriage or she thought he was, and this is a blow to their family values. I know my parents were expecting the same of me and would completely freak out if they found out I haven’t been a virgin since high school, thanks to Roy.