A Serving of Forever

by Kane, Jessa

  “It’s okay, we’ll work on it together.”

  “Yes. Together.” He presses our foreheads together and nods. “My Quinn. How was I living without you all this time?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” I let him sway us a moment, then I slowly drag my tongue along the inside of his collar. “Take me home, Desmond.”

  His voice is little more than a scrape of raw sound when he speaks in my ear, his hand on the small of my back, pressing me into his erection. “I can’t make it home, Quinn.”

  Tingles start in the center of my tummy and spread outward, like ripples in a pond. My nipples tighten like bolts and his beard on my neck is an assault on my senses. A delicious one. “Then take me somewhere. Anywhere.”

  Desmond levers me off the ground and carries me away from the dance floor. Over his shoulder, I see Steph and Melissa giving me encouraging waves and I return them, but my sole focus is on this man. What he’s going to do to me. How we’re going to make love in a public club. Surely that must be illegal, but I can’t summon the will to care. Nothing outweighs my hunger to have this man inside me, where he’s meant to have been all along.

  He doesn’t stop walking until we reach the darkest corner of the club. There are a ton of people dancing, the floor packed tightly with bodies, and these clubbers are noticeably drunker than the ones in front. A burgundy booth lines the wall and only flashes of it can be seen when the lights hit it just right. That’s where Desmond takes me.

  He takes a seat in the farthest, most hidden corner of the banquette, yanking my legs open in a straddle and settling me on his lap. “Fuck,” he breathes against my lips. “I’m so hot for it, Quinn. Hump my cock a little and see what I’m talking about.”

  As if I can stop myself. The juncture of my thighs is already directly on top of his hard shaft, so all I have to do is circle my hips and a sharp flash of lust rocks me. “Desmond,” I moan into the curve of his neck. “We didn’t practice this position.”

  “Practice starts now. By this time next week, you’re going to be an expert at all the positions, Quinn. Especially the one where you lie down, open your thighs wide and let me eat.” He tugs down the top of my tube dress and closes his mouth around one of my nipples, pulling deeply. “God, you’re a fucking meal, little girl.”

  His mouth drags across my chest and gives my other breast the same attention, his hands busy between our bodies, ripping his zipper down. He grunts into our kiss and guides my hand to his now-exposed shaft where it stands straight up, wedged between my thighs. So thick. So alive. I want so badly to pull the tight dress up to my waist so I can rub myself on his erection, but the whole dance floor is behind us, and I don’t want to expose my butt. Desmond seems to read my mind, however. He leans up and removes his jacket, stretching his T-shirt across those incredible muscles, all the while chuckling at my reaction to his flexing body.

  Finally, he positions the garment over my back, shielding me from view.

  “We can’t help this, can we, Quinn?” Desmond breathes against my ear, his capable hands finding my bottom and kneading it, rocking me forward, sweet nothing separating my weeping flesh from his hardness. “No, we can’t. We have no choice. It’s fuck my girl or die.”

  I’m nodding, my pulse wild in my ears, seemingly louder than the music. My inner walls are clenching tight, tight, like a fist, seeking out a part of Desmond I’ve never even experienced before. Still, my body knows. It yearns. And I give in to the base urges I only understand somewhat, flattening my palms on the back of the booth on either side of Desmond’s head and writhing my soft flesh all over his swollen sex.

  “Good girl. Best girl.” His middle finger slides down the split of my bottom, rubbing up and down, over the rim of my back entrance. Tingles ripples up my spine, sparking excitement in my nerve endings. Touching me there seems to turn him on even more and his hips start to pump upward, dropping, thrusting, dropping, making my breasts bounce with every lustful movement. “Soaking wet. So ready for it, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whine, trying to open my thighs to get closer, even though it’s impossible. Just a little more friction and I could let the orgasm take me.

  Desmond has other plans.

  His right hand lets go of my backside, circling his shaft once more, dragging it to the gate of my virginity and pausing. “All this time, I thought you needed me to take it slow. Now I know the truth, don’t I? When we walked into your apartment, I should have dropped you down on this dick and given you a hard first ride, huh, sweetheart?”

  My mouth is open and panting on his neck. “Yes.”

  “No more waiting.” He impales me on the first couple inches, groaning through clenched teeth. “No rubber either. Let’s make me a daddy on the first try, sweetheart. I want everything with you—and I want it now.” Having worked enough of his sex inside me, Desmond falls back against the booth and repositions his hands on the cheeks of my butt, wedging me the rest of the way down, inch by inch, until I’m fully seated. “Oh fuck, Quinn. Fuck. Yes. Tell me you’re okay. It’s so goddamn tight.”

  “I’m okay,” I sob. I expect pain, but there is nothing but huge, hot pressure. Every iota of me is filled to capacity and my body feels possessed. My thighs are glued to his rough hips, my nipples chafing on his T-shirt. Owned. Furthermore, I’m having sex in a public place with this big, beautiful man and the newfound confidence that has been building all day overflows. How could it not when he already looks like he’s struggling to maintain control? Because of me?

  Biting my lip, a thrill rolling down my spine like a metal ball, I curl my hands in the neckline of his shirt, lean back and work my hips in slow grinds, my breath catching at the way his eyes darken, his jaw popping. “Fucking me like you want twins up in that belly, sweetheart. Is that what you’re asking me for? I got more than enough firepower in these balls to get you there. Just nod your pretty head.”

  Do I want Desmond to fill me so deeply that we’re forever joined?

  Yes.

  God, yes, I want that more than anything.

  And I’m already nodding to let him know.

  A shudder passes through his barrel chest and I sense his control snapping. I’m only given the opportunity to roll my hips one more time, sliding his manhood in and out of my slick flesh, when Desmond throws me down on my back, right there on the booth.

  I see nothing but lights flashing on the ceiling.

  Bass pumps all around us. Conversations spike over the music.

  But I’m only aware of Desmond’s grunts as he fucks me hard and raw and rough on the booth of the club, my back sliding up and down on the leather. The act of being claimed is so intense, I arch my back and scream, my fingernails ripping down the flexing breadth of his back, but he only continues to seat himself inside me, over and over, grunting expletives into my ear.

  “You’re going to bring this tight, little pussy home to me every fucking night. Understand me, sweetheart?” He rams himself deep and holds. “I’m not playing games.”

  “Every night,” I whimper, wrapping my legs around his hips, clinging for dear life. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

  “I won’t. I’ll never stop hitting this. Never. I’m going to hunt you down, day and night.” He drops his mouth into my neck and kisses the skin there tenderly, once, twice. “I’ll never stop loving you, either, Quinn. My heart is yours and you can’t give it back. You hear me?”

  “I don’t want to,” I whisper, his mouth finding mine, giving it a thorough, groaning sweep of his tongue. “Desmond…I love you. I love you.”

  My declaration makes his shaft flex inside me, his muscles stiffen. “Hearing that makes me need to come. Ahhhh, shit, sweetheart. You had to say it.” He starts to bear down on me faster, faster, his hips slapping mine, tunneling his thickness inside me, creating slippery wet friction that drives my pleasure higher, higher, higher. “Say it again when you’re close.”

  I drop my thighs wider, uncaring who can see us. Unconcerned if hund
reds of people are watching Desmond take my virginity on the booth of a club, desperate and sweating. “I’m close. I love you. I’m close.”

  Another shudder passes through him, this one violent and his thrusts turn almost mean, his muscular arms caging my head in, his jaw slack, eyes unseeing, as he drives into me in a frenzy. “I love you, Quinn. I love you.”

  Stars dance in front of my eyes a moment before my climax crests and then all my senses deplete, apart from touch. I can feel only the tumult of pleasure originating between my legs and winding around my bones, throughout my belly, my inner thighs. Oh Lord. Oh my Lord, it’s the most exquisite feeling in the world and I get to share it with Desmond as he follows behind me a moment later, bellowing into the crook of my neck, his hips jerking with involuntary spasms. And the hot stickiness…it flows and coats everything. My insides, my outsides, the booth and parts of my dress.

  It’s not just physical release, though that would be extraordinary in itself. There is also a lessening of pressure in my chest, as if my heart needed to connect in this one final way with my soul mate or it might have been crushed.

  Now I’m complete.

  Now we’re complete.

  Desmond kisses my mouth, lingering there for long moments, before sitting up. He brings me with him, pulling me onto his lap and holding me like a priceless artifact.

  “Mine forever,” he says, laying my hand on his heart. “Yours forever.”

  “Forever,” I whisper back, my eyes damp.

  I never find out who saw us that night, because Desmond tucks my face into the crook of his neck and carries me out the back exit door, out into the night and straight into our happily ever after…

  Epilogue

  Desmond

  Five Years Later

  My heart is racing out of control.

  There’s a horrible crackling sound in my ears.

  Another five seconds and I wouldn’t have made it out of the fire alive.

  I drop to my knees on the sidewalk and knock my helmet off, letting it smash down onto the concrete beside me. A paramedic rushes over and asks me a series of questions, but I wave him off, trying to catch my breath. Nothing would help. Nothing is going to help but having my wife in my arms. Jesus, I almost died tonight.

  When there was a chance I wouldn’t make it up the smoky staircase, all I could see was Quinn. My daughters were there, too, vying for attention in my consciousness. But like always, my wife overrode everything—and without her voice in my head, I don’t know if I could have summoned the extra power it took to make it out before the stairway ceiling collapsed.

  “Captain Conlon.” One of my men slaps a hand down on my shoulder. “We should get you some oxygen—”

  “I’m fine,” I say, my voice raw from smoke. With an effort, I climb to my feet, my lack of equilibrium causing me to weave. Another one of my fellow firefighters rushes over to steady, me, but I push them away. Don’t they know the only thing I need in this world is my wife?

  We married five years ago, two days after we met, and we’ve never spent a night apart, unless I’m working a twenty-four. I go with her to the fancy restaurants she reviews for the Times and I’ll admit it, she’s turned me into a goddamn foodie. I know what a crostini is now and I’m man enough to admit it. Even my sisters, who have become Quinn’s best friends, say things like, it has a nice kick of citrus that pairs well with the texture.

  And there I am, nodding along, trying to arrange a perfect bite on my fork.

  We still drink bodega coffee, though.

  The reminder of my first date with Quinn sends a shard of pain into my side. Jesus, I almost left her tonight. I almost left her and the girls. Five more seconds.

  There’s a screeching of tires and I glance to the curb, only to find my wife diving out of her car in a white, shortie nightgown. She’s barefoot and her glasses are crooked—and she is the most exquisite creature in the universe. With her hands covering her mouth, she scans the abundance of medical and fire personnel, searching, her eyes finally landing on me.

  Her relief is almost painful, it’s so immense, but it matches mine. Me too, sweetheart. And then she’s running toward me on the sidewalk, tears streaming down her beautiful face. I’m worried as hell she’s going to step on broken glass or something, but thank God she makes it to my arms without incident, leaping and wrapping her arms around my neck.

  “Desmond, they called me. They called m-me a-and they said to come down here right away. Are you okay? Oh my God. I was so scared.”

  Someone on my crew must have called Quinn, proof I’ve made no secret of my complete and utter obsession with my wife. There are times I can’t make it through a whole shift without meeting her in my truck, out in the parking lot, borderline starved to get my come inside of her. Pacing like an animal until the second she arrives and I can fill her pussy up. There’s no telling how many kids we’re going to have at this rate, but I’m cool with a dozen if Quinn is up for it.

  “Sweetheart.” I bundle her close, inhaling the perfect scent of her neck. “I’ve got soot all over me. Your beautiful skin is going to get filthy…”

  Those are the words that come out of my mouth, but she hears the subtext. She hears the anguish in my tone and knows tonight could have been bad.

  Most of all, she knows I need her.

  Now.

  “Good.” Quinn goes up on her toes and whispers in my ear. “Make me filthy.”

  She’s over my shoulder before the invitation fully leaves her mouth and I’m striding around back of the neighboring building, reminding myself over and over that we extinguished the fire and she’s safe there. She’s safe. Nothing can hurt her.

  When we reach the deserted back alley, I shrug her down off my shoulder, a strangled groan leaving my mouth when she locks those sexy legs around my hips. Fuck. It gets better every time with this woman. She makes me insane. I lust for her. I worship her.

  Her fingers are busy on my fire jacket, getting it open and shoving it off my shoulders, leaving me in fire pants, suspenders and a white T-shirt soaked with sweat. Like I told her, my arms are slick with soot, along with my face, my neck. “Sorry about this mess…”

  “Oh yeah,” she says tremulously, sarcasm breaking through her need. “You’re a real turn off looking all strong and heroic like this.”

  My mouth moves into a lop-sided smile and we breathe through a laugh together. But my amusement dies almost immediately and suddenly I can barely swallow. “Oh God, I love you so much.” I crush her against my chest, bury my face in her hair. “I almost…Christ, Quinn, I almost—”

  “But you didn’t.” Her voice catches. “Now show me how alive you are.”

  We burst into motion, Quinn pushing the suspenders off my shoulders, me ripping down the zipper of my pants. Shoving down my briefs. My wife gasps at the sight of my hard cock—never fails to have that reaction. God love her, those eyes are like a kid on Christmas, her nimble fingers trembling on my chest in anticipation.

  Five years later, I still feel guilty as sin for taking Quinn’s virginity like a fucking savage in a nightclub, of all places, and I’ve spent every day since trying to make up for it. I’ve taken her to fancy hotels, I’ve doused our bed in flower petals and I’ve chilled enough champagne to open a liquor store, but the guilt remains. And apparently I’m not going to make any headway getting rid of it tonight, because here I am, pressing my angel of a wife up against a filthy building and kissing the breath out of her.

  The thing is, though, my wife doesn’t care where or when I take her.

  She just wants it, any way she can get it. Thank. God.

  Quinn has turned into a little fiend for her man since coming to me as a shy virgin and I’m proud to say she’s confident as hell now. She knows all it would take is a bat of her eyelashes and I would crawl over hot coals to do any damn thing she asked.

  Because of the fact that she clearly has me wrapped around her finger, she’s told me repeatedly that not only am I allowed to ma
nhandle her, she welcomes it. Needs it. So I take that permission now and run with it.

  Her light, silky nightgown is a stunning contrast to my hard equipment, my calloused hands, as I lift it to her waist. As always, she’s wearing those innocent white panties and with her legs wrapped around me, I have no choice but to rip them off.

  Finally, I manage to stop kissing her magical mouth, my voice husky against her lips. “I thought of you when…I never stop thinking of you, Quinn. Not a second passes.”

  Her hands run over my face, my beard. “I never stop thinking of you, either. My husband, my love. My Desmond.”

  I lock our lips together, breathing, breathing, and I guide my throbbing dick to the sweetest heaven I could never have imagined existed and will never, ever take for granted. My wife’s pussy. It owns me, heart, body and soul, just like the woman it’s attached to.

  I’m not even inside her yet and she’s already whimpering, wiggling around, knowing she’s about to get a good, hard fuck. Her tits are overflowing over the top of her nightgown, her nipples visible through the translucent material, but I have a deep need to focus on her eyes as I sink inside, slide out slowly and take my first bone-rattling pump. I need those gorgeous eyes to ground me, bring me back from the edge I’m on after almost leaving her tonight—and they save me, as they always do.

  They always will.

  “I love you with my whole heart, Quinn. Everything I am.”

  “Everything I am is yours, Desmond.” She arches her back, freeing her succulent nipples from her neckline and I dive forward to suck them. “I love you,” she sobs, holding my head close, gasping when I start to drive into her hard, fast, her heels digging into my ass.

  My growls weave together with her moans as we set a whole new kind of fire to the alley and each other’s hearts.

  THE END