A Serving of Forever

by Kane, Jessa

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small figure bypass a snoring cameraman and duck out the back door. I don’t see the person’s face, but the elegant way they move tells me it’s Quinn and I stride in that direction, determined to reach her before vanishes into the wilds of Manhattan.

  I catch the backstage door before it closes, my long legs making it easy to catch up with her on the sidewalk. She sucks in a breath and halts, blinking up at me—and fuck me, she’s so beautiful, I forget what year it is. A moment later, I manage to recover. “Ah come on, you didn’t think I’d just let you leave, right?”

  Her pretty lips open and close, her hand tightening around the strap of her purse. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Wow. Really? I couldn’t have been more obvious about my interest in her without drooling all over my workstation. My dick is solid as a rock right now. I had to untuck my T-shirt so I won’t get arrested for public indecency. Is it possible Quinn doesn’t know how goddamn gorgeous and sweet she is? How does she make it through life without every person she meets telling her? Maybe I should take this slow, so she doesn’t bug out. If she didn’t even notice my attraction to her, she might call 911 if I explain how badly I need her in my bed.

  “Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “It would be rude not to thank you for voting for me. Can I buy you some gratitude coffee?”

  Her smile heats my blood. “Gratitude coffee?”

  “It’s the best kind.” I step toward Quinn, wanting to brush a stray hair out of her face, but my sudden closeness steals her smile and she looks like she’s going to hyperventilate. Yeah, I definitely need to take this slow. I’ve even more positive now that she’s as innocent as she looks. She’s worth all the time in the world, though, so I’m going to go as slowly as she needs. “Are you a coffee critic, too, or does the closest Starbucks work for you?”

  She pushes up her glasses with a slim index finger. “It’s a little known secret that you can get the best coffee in New York City at your local bodega.”

  Fuck, she’s so cute. “Is that right?”

  Her nod is solemn.

  “Take me to the closest bodega, then.”

  She glances back at the studio door. “What about your sisters?”

  “I sent them shoe shopping.” So I could be alone with you. “That should occupy them for the next week or so.”

  Quinn giggles and I check the urge to adjust myself. God, she’s having a crazy effect on me. I’m not a player or anything, but I’ve dated steadily since I was old enough to drive. Not a single one of the girls I’ve taken out made me this hot. Made me this protective. Made me want to know every single detail about her, down to the minute she was born.

  Take it easy. You’re going slow, remember?

  Hell, she might not even be interested in me. She might want some upper crust type, right? Some lucky bastard who’ll bring her to the opera and make deals on the golf course.

  I realize I’m clenching my fist so tight, my nails have broken the skin on my palms.

  If I want to take this slow, I can’t think of her with another man.

  The very idea makes me want to drag her into the closest hotel and lay my claim.

  “Desmond?” She toes the sidewalk. “Did you change your mind?”

  “Hell no, sweetheart.” I take her elbow and steer her away from the studio. “One thing about me is I never change my mind, once it’s made up.”

  “Me either.” She nods briskly. “I know exactly what I want as soon as I look at the menu.”

  “What about in other areas of your life?”

  She looks up at me. “What other areas?”

  A knot forms in my chest and I remember what she said during filming. I hide at home…usually…in between appointments. I thought, maybe, this would make me uncomfortable and…

  “Never mind, sweetheart,” I say, gruffly. “You know a good bodega in this neighborhood?”

  “No,” she says, chewing her lip. “But there’s one every five blocks—” She cuts herself off, beaming at something in the distance. “There’s one.”

  I slide my hand up and settle it on her shoulder, making sure all the cars have stopped before guiding her across the street. “Great. I’m buying.”

  A few minutes later, we’re standing inside the bodega with our paper cups of doctored coffee in our hands. Quinn seems to be more interested in my reaction than her own drink, however. She leans in a little when I take a sip, holding her breath, eyes wide. “Well? What do you think?”

  The hot liquid slides down my throat, the perfect combination of bitter and rich, prompting me to let out a satisfied groan. “I think I’ve been wasting my money.” I examine the cup. “Holy shit, I can’t believe this was a dollar.”

  She’s bouncing she’s so excited. “Right? I wish more people knew.”

  I sigh dramatically. “I guess it’s only fair I take you to dinner with the money I’m saving.”

  Her movements cease. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

  “Jesus, Quinn. I want to,” I say, laughing.

  “Really?” Her brow remains furrowed and I swear to Christ, I almost kiss her then and there, so she’ll realize taking her out will be the furthest thing from a chore for me. Truthfully, I’m kind of pissed off this woman has no idea she’s a ten. No, a twenty.

  Who is responsible for this?

  Unless…

  She’s just playing dumb until I give up, because I’m not her type.

  Thinking like that makes my stomach twist.

  “Do you date a lot, sweetheart?”

  She pauses halfway through a sip, lowering her cup. “No. I haven’t at all, actually.” Pink stains her cheeks and I watch a slow transformation take her over. One second she seems kind of embarrassed, the next she’s squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “No guts, no glory,” she mutters to herself. “Actually, Desmond, I was kind of wondering…”

  “Yeah?”

  “W-well, you’re just so charismatic and confident, you know? Look how you just approached me and suggested coffee. I could never do that. I’d be too worried about saying the wrong thing or getting rejected or being boring if the person said yes. And I just thought…actually, I was thinking earlier…” She closes her eyes and blurts the rest. “What if you could teach me to be more confident like that?”

  Oh, sweetheart. How is she not in my arms yet? I’m aching over here. “Quinn, you should be confident. You’re amazing.”

  “I…” She rears back a little, surprised. “Thank you, but being confident is easier said than done. Is there no way you’d consider…a lesson?”

  “A lesson.”

  “You think I’m crazy for suggesting it.”

  “I didn’t say that.” A million questions vie for attention in my head, but one stands out more than the others. “You want a lesson from me so you can ask out other men?”

  “M-men…” Quinn stutters, unable to meet my eyes. “Well, sure, I think that would be one advantage, don’t you? Being more assertive.” She rolls her lips inward. “Maybe if I feel confident and even”—her voice drops to a whisper—“sexy, that self-assurance will extend to other areas of my life. Making friends and taking risks. Things like that.”

  “So the purpose of this lesson with me is to feel sexy?” All right, I’m not hating the sound of this. Although, getting confirmation that she wants to ask out other men is fucking with my head—and my heart—big time. I don’t want those beautiful hazel eyes to look at another man. Ever. But there might be a chance here to prove I can be her one. The only man she ever wants to ask out again. Period. “If I’m going to make you feel sexy, Quinn, that means we’ll be touching. A lot.”

  Does her gaze rake over my chest? “It crossed my mind,” she whispers.

  Hope swells in my middle—and lower—fattening my cock in my jeans. “You want that? My hands on you?” I drop my head toward hers. “My mouth on you. All over you.”

  She swallows. “Yes. I-in the name of educat
ion, of course.”

  My hope deflates a little. My dick does not. “Right.” I drain my coffee in a few gulps and toss the paper cup in the trash can. “No time to waste. We better start tonight.”

  “Tonight?” she squeaks. “How? Where?”

  I wink at her. “My place. Queens.”

  “Queens?”

  My laugh echoes in the bodega. “It’s over the bridge, sweetheart, not on the moon.”

  “Yes, but…I don’t have clothes or a toothbrush or—”

  “Let’s head to your place first, then.” I put a hand on the small of her back and ease her toward the exit. “Don’t pack a lot of clothes, though. You won’t be needing them.”

  “Oh my,” Quinn murmurs, putting a wrist to her forehead. “You’re going to be the first man to…” She stops short. “To be in my apartment.”

  “That’s one hell of a euphemism.”

  “It wasn’t. My cat is going to have a heart attack.”

  “A pussy joke now? You’re on fire.”

  Her giggle makes me want to propose marriage, right there on the filthy sidewalk. I hail a cab and help her into the backseat, her hand so perfect in mine. So right. And I know I’ve got one night to make this woman fall for me, the way I’ve fallen for her.

  Don’t mess it up.

  4

  Quinn

  My apartment seems so much smaller with this giant man inside of it.

  As predicted, my cat reacts like she’s been electrocuted at the sight of a stranger and vanishes. I trip over my area rug because Desmond is so distracting, picking up my little knickknacks with his big paws, turning them over as if he’s trying to learn about me through my possessions.

  Stop that fanciful thinking.

  He’s doesn’t have feelings for me.

  No. Not only did we meet just this morning, but I’ve sort of coerced him into teaching me how to be sexy and confident. He’s a beautiful firefighter with an outgoing personality—surely he wants nothing serious with awkward, introverted me. So why has he agreed to help me? Well I don’t know a lot about men, but I’m quite certain they don’t turn down no-strings flings with a woman. That’s all tonight will be for Desmond.

  For me?

  A whole other story.

  I’m drawn to this man, even more than I’m enticed by a well-seasoned French cassoulet. He’s kind and funny and listens to me when I speak. His hearty laugh matches the rest of him. Even his heart, I’m sensing. I can still feel his hand on the base of my spine as he led me across the street and the memory of his protectiveness makes me want to…to…bite his thick thighs. Yes, bite them. Sensually.

  I hardly know myself anymore—and I kind of like that.

  I like how brave and unconcerned with keeping up appearances I am around him. There is no worry about having the proper response or filling holes with small talk about the weather. He makes me feel comfortable in my own skin.

  Even so, I cannot believe I basically asked him to be my sex tutor. I can’t believe I am actually going to go through with it—and more than that, I’m excited. A night in Queens! It might as well be Madagascar for all the time I’ve spent there. But I’m eager to see Desmond’s house. If I only have one night to revel in him, I’m going to make the most out of it.

  I realize I’ve been quietly staring at him like a nutcase for a solid two minutes.

  “Would you like anything to drink?” I blurt.

  “No, thanks. I’m good.” He points at a picture on the mantle. The one of me holding a framed copy of my first restaurant review in the New York Times, an older woman standing behind me. “This your mother?”

  “Yes.” At the mention of my mother, I automatically try to smooth the wrinkles from my dress. “If she knew how forward I’ve been with you, she would be scheduling extra therapy sessions through next year.”

  He grins. “She’s a little strait-laced?”

  “That’s an understatement.” I twist the diamond stud in my ear. “I think she means well. She wants what’s best for me, but sometimes I wish she’d let me decide what that is. I’ve spent so long trying to please her, I don’t know how to…”

  “Please yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  Desmond touches his tongue to the corner of his mouth. “I can help with that.”

  “I hope so,” I whisper, his smoky tone making my toes curl in my sensible heels. “I’m going to pack. I won’t be a moment.”

  “I’ll help.”

  My steps falter on the way to my bedroom, tingles crawling up my spine at the sound of his heavy footsteps behind me. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d never had a man in my apartment and wow, what a man to select for the first time. He’s such a presence. So male.

  When he asked me if I want to become more confident so I can ask out other men, I fudged my answer a little. Sure, I suppose someday in the future, tonight’s lesson will come in handy, but I can barely remember other men exist when Desmond is close. I wonder how long it will take me to move on once the tutorial is complete and he’s gotten his fill.

  A pang in my chest catches me off guard and I massage it on the way into my bedroom. Pushing open the door, I look at my space through Desmond’s eyes. Light, tasteful, lots of white and yellow and orange. Books and food magazines scattered everywhere. This is the only area of my life that I control completely and letting him see it is as intimate as a kiss.

  Not that I would know that for sure.

  But by tonight, I will.

  Trying to hide the hot shiver passing through me, I kneel down and tug an overnight bag from beneath the bed. Desmond’s hand appears in front of me, his blunt fingers sliding under the handle and lifting it on to the bed.

  He squints an eye at me. “What do you think about letting me pack for you?”

  My hands twist in front of me. “Oh, I don’t know…”

  “If you pack for yourself, what will you bring?”

  “Well, some pajamas, of course—”

  “Quinn. You’re already overpacking.”

  I sputter for a good five seconds. “Are you suggesting I’ll be sleeping naked?”

  “You’ll be wearing me. That’s it.” He says those words so casually. Meanwhile, I’m tongue-tied watching him open my underwear drawer. “I had you pegged for a white panties girl.” He dangles one of my many white bikini briefs from his fingers. “I was right.”

  My face warms. “That’s not all I have. There’s gray and beige in there, too. Probably.” I wave at him. “Sift around.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t a fan of the white ones, sweetheart.”

  “Are you a fan?”

  He makes a considering sound. “I’d have to see them on you to make that judgment.”

  “You will be seeing them,” I say, breathily, my thighs feeling oddly liquefied. “Tonight, under the covers, in the glow of some tasteful lighting.”

  A corner of his mouth edges up. “Damn, Quinn. You’re cute as hell.” He drops my panties back into the drawer and comes toward me, slowly. “You could show them to me now.”

  My hand flies to my chest, wrapping around the locket. “But it’s so bright in here.”

  “Quinn, you asked me to help make you more confident. Let me do my job.”

  My nerves are running circles in my tummy. “How is this going to make me more confident?”

  Desmond steps into my space and places his lips against the crown of my head. His male scent is wrapped in baking ingredients, thanks to the morning’s activities, and he smells incredible. I could bask for days in his aroma alone, but then his big hands cup my hips, squeezing, and sliding lower. The tips of his fingers inch under the edge of my dress, moving side to side, but not lifting.

  “I’ll tell you why this is going to work. Seeing your panties is going to make me so hot, Quinn. I’m already hard…” he murmurs against my ear. “I’ve been hard since you walked out from behind the curtain this morning. But I’m going to get harder when you lift this dress. When you see what y
ou’re capable of doing to my cock, you’re going to feel a lot more confident, aren’t you?”

  My breath catches. “Y-you’re going to show it to me?”

  His tongue traces the shell of my ear. “If you want to see it, yes.”

  I do. Really bad. Is it worth biting the bullet and stepping outside my comfort zone so I can see that part of Desmond’s body? Yes. Yes, it is.

  My nod is vigorous. “Okay.”

  “Good girl,” Desmond says, his teeth catching my earlobe, his hands cinching my dress up and over my hips. I don’t realize until the cool air kisses my thighs that moisture is soaking through the crotch of my panties. Is he going to see that?

  “I…um, I…”

  His palms stroke down over my bottom, squeezing, and I forget my protests. There has never been anything more divine than his warm, strong touch cupping and massaging me so intimately, as if he’s my owner.

  Desmond reverses our positions and walks me backward towards the bed, gently pushing me down onto the edge. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he grasps my knees and spreads them wide. My pulse is firing off like bottle rockets as he steps back, straightening to his full heights and running his gaze down to the juncture of my thighs. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, fisting his erection through his pants. “Look at what a hot piece you are.”

  “A piece?” I breathe, feeling more moisture rushing down to slick my folds.

  “That’s right.” He lowers the zipper of his pants, slowly. “You’re beautiful and smart, Quinn. Sweet as hell. But I forget about everything but getting my dick in that pussy when you show it off to me. That little honeypot between your legs looks like a tight piece of heaven, doesn’t it? God yeah, it does. I want to forget you’re a classy city girl and be rough with it.”

  Have I melted into the mattress? I’m so warm. So tingly. “You do?”

  “Fuck yeah, I do.” He drags his tongue along the masculine curve of his lower lip. “Grab the sides of your panties and twist. Make them tighter.”

  Such an erotic suggestion should make me giggle or sputter a protest, but his expression is so hot and eager, I find my fingers sliding beneath the side waistband of my panties on both sides and winding the material around my finger. Briefly, I glance down to witness what Desmond is seeing and my lips pop open at the sight that greets me. My underwear is practically see-through, due to my wetness, and the split of my womanhood is visible, along with my narrow strip of light brown hair.