This I Promise You

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This I Promise You Page 12

by Smith, Maureen


  “Hell, yeah.”

  “I understand.” She winked. “I wouldn’t want you to be one and done for the night.”

  His eyes flashed. “Oh, that won’t be a problem.”

  “No?” she taunted playfully as he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. “Think you can hang?”

  He pushed her back on the bed. “Is that a serious question?”

  “It is.” As he rose above her, she ran her palms over the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, her eyes lifting to his in seductive challenge. “I need an all-night man, Mr. Reddick.”

  “Then you got one.” He moved between her legs, his powerful thighs pushing hers apart.

  “So you think you can hang, huh?” Holding his gaze, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles behind his back. “Prove it.”

  She’d barely gotten out the words before he plunged into her, wrenching a strangled cry from her throat. As she flung back her head in pleasure, he shuddered and let out a raw, animalistic groan that made her shiver.

  He began thrusting into her, slowly at first and then with longer, undulating strokes that hit her cervix. He felt so good inside her she almost forgot to breathe.

  Gasping with pleasure, she arched beneath him and tightened her thighs around his hips. She could feel the controlled power in every thrust of his body as he rocked against her, pressing her into the mattress with increasingly demanding strokes.

  “Quentin,” she mewled, clawing at his back and buttocks. “Oh, baby…oh, God…I can’t…”

  “Can’t what?” He thrust into her, driving himself deeper with the expert circling of his hips. “Didn’t you say you need an all-night man? What happened? You can’t hang? This too much dick for you?”

  She moaned, her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow. His dirty talk always drove her wild. “Quentin,” she whimpered.

  “That’s right. Say my name.” His husky laugh broke off into a groan when she squeezed her muscles around his thrusting cock, clamping him like a vise. Shuddering, he bent down and sucked her bottom lip, his eyes blazing into hers as he whispered, “I’ma get you for that.”

  “Yesss,” she begged, never too proud. “Punish me, please!”

  He worked her over, his long dick hitting her clit and pussy at angles that had her chanting incoherently and wailing his name. As many times as they’d had sex, she couldn’t get over what a skilled, phenomenal lover he was. There could never be another for her. No other man would do.

  He folded her widespread legs back against her chest so that when he drove inside her, every thrust had his full weight behind it.

  “So good,” he groaned. “So damn good.”

  “God, yes,” she sobbed, tears streaming from her eyes. “Fuck me good, baby! Make me cum hard!”

  He battered her sex with a force that had the headboard banging into the wall. She raked his back with her nails and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the explosive orgasm she could feel working its way from her clenched toes, up her quaking thighs and straight to her dripping pussy.

  “Ah, baby…sweetness...” Quentin put her legs on his shoulders and powered into her until she was screaming in ecstasy.

  They climaxed together, calling each other’s names as his thick semen flooded her womb, soaking her deep and hard.

  Gasping from the aftershocks of her orgasm, she stared up at him through glazed eyes as he kept thrusting against her, emptying spurt after white-hot spurt inside her. He was brutally beautiful like this, his head thrown back, the tendons straining in his neck and shoulders.

  For long moments afterward, he lay panting on top of her, supporting some of his weight on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush her. She gave him a dreamy smile as he leaned down and feathered kisses across her nose, cheeks and jaw. Then he eased her legs off his shoulders and rolled them over.

  Before she could draw her next breath, he lifted her over his head, his powerful arms holding her steady as she straddled his face. He blew softly against her slit, the sensation making her shiver and gasp. She gripped the headboard, staring down into his heavy-lidded eyes.

  “I love the way we smell together,” he whispered before his tongue dove for her clit, soaking it.

  She flung back her head with a wanton moan.

  His tongue worked its magic, stroking through her folds and sucking the hood of her clit. When her thighs were shaking and wild cries were pouring out of her, he lifted her off his face and dragged her down the length of his body until she was straddling his hips.

  “Now fuck me.”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. She lowered her wet pussy onto his jutting erection, gasping with pleasure as her muscles stretched around him and spasmed, already close to orgasm.

  He cursed and grabbed her thighs, his fingertips biting into her flesh hard enough to leave marks.

  She stilled her hips and slowly bent forward, rubbing her hard nipples over his ribs. When he shuddered, she ran her lips up his chest, across his shoulder and down to his muscular bicep. Looking up at him, she licked his Omega tattoo, letting her tongue slowly trace the horseshoe-shaped brand.

  His cock throbbed inside her. “Shit, baby.”

  Lifting her mouth, she sat back and braced her hands on his chiseled stomach. She felt his muscles tighten and contract as she began pumping her hips, lifting halfway off him before sliding back down.

  “Ah, fuck, Lex,” he groaned.

  She rode him slowly, watching his expression darken with pure lust. She took her time, leisurely undulating her hips and squeezing her muscles around his dick to create just the right friction. She reveled in the way his chest heaved with ragged breaths and his fingers bit into her buttocks, gripping her tight. There was something so heady and empowering about being on top, about setting the pace and making him a slave to her rhythm. She loved it and so did he, though she knew how hard it was for him to resist his animal instinct to take over and pound her senseless.

  When she rose up and tightened her pussy like a fist around his cock, his head arched back against the pillow. “Fuck!”

  She shivered, feeling his heavy erection pulse and swell inside her. Staring up at her through fiercely glittering eyes, he reached between her legs and pressed his thumb to her clit, making her cry out with pleasure. He stroked the swollen nub as she leaned forward against his hand and then rocked back on his dick, swiveling her hips and grinding down on him as pressure built between her thighs.

  His guttural groans encouraged her, spurring her to ride him harder and faster. Flesh slapped against flesh, the sound echoing in the large suite.

  “Quentin!” she screamed as her body shattered, ecstasy spreading through her in scorching waves. Hips rocking furiously, she rode him through her orgasm as he yelled his release, shooting hot jets of cum deep inside her.

  The sensations felt so good she broke into convulsive shivering above him, gasping for breath as she shook from her head to her toes.

  Watching her intently, Quentin ran his hands over her hips and thighs, soothing and caressing her until the violent tremors subsided.

  Closing her eyes, she collapsed on top of his damp chest and felt his arms go around her. He nuzzled her hair, his breath hot against her neck and ear as he whispered, “God, I love to watch you come. It’s the most beautiful fucking thing ever.”

  She let out an airless laugh, her breasts flattened against his chest. She felt boneless, her muscles soft and pliant. “I can’t move,” she whimpered.

  “Then don’t. I like you just where you are.”

  She smiled, her eyelids drooping. “About that ‘all-night’ thing…”

  “Yeah?” There was a grin in his lazy voice. “What about it?”

  “I was thinking we could change it to a ‘just till midnight’ thing.”

  “Why?” he taunted. “You can’t hang?”

  “Oh, I can hang.”

  “Just not past midnight.”

  She felt her own lips curving against his che
st. “I just need a power nap to recharge.”

  He chuckled, kissing her temple. “Wuss.”

  “Hey, I just had three orgasms in a row,” she protested with a breathy laugh. “I think I’ve earned a few winks.”

  “Fair enough.” He slid his hand down her back, the lazy caress relaxing her even more.

  She sighed, letting her eyes slide closed. “You can take a power nap too.”

  “Don’t need one. I’m an all-night man, remember?”

  “Showoff.”

  His deliciously sexy chuckle was the last thing she heard before she dozed off.

  11

  The next morning, she awoke to the sensation of something cool and smooth sliding up her left hand.

  Slowly opening her eyes, she saw Quentin leaning over her as he gently eased a stunning princess-cut diamond ring onto her finger, nestling it against a diamond-encrusted gold wedding band. The brilliant stones sparkled in the sunlight slanting through the windows.

  Lifting his eyes to hers, Quentin smiled. “Will you marry me?”

  Although he was only teasing, her breath caught and her stomach fluttered the way it had when he’d proposed nearly two years ago.

  “Hmm,” she murmured, a lazy smile curving her mouth. “Shouldn’t I have said yes before you put that huge rock on my fin—” She broke off with a squeal of laughter as he slapped her naked butt and rolled her onto her back, dislodging the sheets.

  “Quit playing, girl,” he growled, nuzzling her neck and nipping her gently with his teeth. “You know how I feel about you not wearing my ring in public.”

  She grinned up at him. “But it was part of the game.”

  “I know,” he grumbled, “but I don’t like the way that damn bartender was looking at you.”

  “The bartender?” Lexi sputtered incredulously. “What about that heffa who pounced on you the second you arrived?”

  Quentin chuckled, his warm breath fanning her throat and sending shivers down her spine. “You know I wasn’t checking for her. The only woman I need is right here in this bed.”

  “That’s right,” Lexi purred. “And don’t you forget it.”

  “Like that’d ever happen.” He lifted his face from her neck and rested his forehead against hers so that they were nose to nose. As he stared down into her eyes, she smiled up at him and slid her arms around his neck, spearing her fingers into the short, silky hair at his nape.

  “You’re going to be late for work,” she told him.

  “It’s all good,” he murmured. “I don’t have any meetings till eleven-thirty.”

  “So we’ve got time for breakfast?”

  “And a few other things,” he said with a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

  She laughed, stroking his muscular calf with the sole of her foot. “Don’t you ever get enough?”

  “Of you? That’s not even possible.”

  Pleasure warmed her insides. “Well, you’re in luck.”

  “Yeah?” He sipped at her lips. “How so?”

  She flicked her tongue against the tip of his. “I can’t get enough of you either.”

  When his cock jumped against her belly, she smiled and nibbled his bottom lip.

  “I should call my mom to check up on Junior.”

  “Later.” Quentin lowered his hips, settling more of his weight onto her. Her body heated at the feel of his powerful thighs pressed against hers, the thick column of his erection nudging her folds.

  As they gazed into each other’s eyes, she hooked her legs around his waist and ran her hands over his back. He held himself above her, one arm braced on either side of her head as he stared down at her with an intoxicating mixture of wonder and desire.

  “My sweet, beautiful wife,” he whispered reverently.

  She lifted her hips. “Make love to me, husband.”

  “Yes.” He pressed for entry, then plunged inside her.

  They both gasped with pleasure.

  With their eyes locked, Quentin pulled halfway out of her and then slid back inside, thrusting over and over with deep, loving strokes that brought tears to her eyes.

  “Quentin,” she whimpered.

  He leaned down and kissed her, his tongue circling and stroking hers while his hips moved to the same sensual rhythm. Moaning, she clung to his shoulder with one hand and gripped the flexing muscles of his ass with the other.

  Slowly he increased his tempo, pumping deeper and harder, each long stroke hitting her G-spot. She sank her teeth into his shoulder and tightened her legs around his waist, her hips grinding against his to increase the friction.

  Whispering her name, he reached between their bodies and rubbed her sensitive clit until she came with a throaty cry against his mouth. He followed seconds later, groaning loud and long as he spurted hotly into her.

  She closed her eyes, limp with exhaustion.

  Panting harshly, he rolled them over so that she lay on top of him, her heart pounding against his chest, his cock still throbbing inside her.

  His arms went around her, clasping her tight. “God, baby,” he whispered fiercely. “I love you so damn much.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I love you too.”

  He kissed her temple, her brow, her ear and her neck, then brushed her bangs out of her eyes. His tender ministrations made her smile as she snuggled against his big body. She felt safe and warm, deliciously satiated.

  “I wish we could stay here all day,” she confessed.

  “So do I.” He stroked a lazy hand down her back. “I’m looking forward to our getaway in February.”

  “Oh, yes. Me too.” A ripple of excitement went through her at the reminder of their upcoming trip to Aspen, where they would spend a romantic three-day weekend celebrating Valentine’s Day at a luxury ski resort.

  “I can’t wait.” She sighed contentedly. “In the meantime…”

  Quentin nuzzled the top of her head. “What?”

  She lifted her head from his chest and grinned at him. “Can we order room service now? We skipped dinner last night, and I’m starving.”

  He laughed, nipping playfully at her jawline. “Yes, sweetness, we can have breakfast now.” He winked suggestively. “The sooner we eat, the sooner I can get you back into bed.”

  They ate at a linen-covered table in front of the windows overlooking downtown. Dressed in matching white terrycloth hotel bathrobes, they talked and laughed while listening to Syleena Johnson on the suite’s built-in stereo system.

  “You know what I was just thinking about?” Lexi mused as she nibbled on a slice of bacon.

  Quentin looked at her. “What?”

  “The fact that you’ve never lived anywhere but Atlanta. Like, I went to culinary school in New York and spent four months in Paris—”

  “The longest four months of my damn life.”

  “Mine too.” Her expression turned soft and rueful. “I never should have left you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” Quentin agreed in a mild tone. “But you came back—”

  “I had to. I was lost without you.”

  They smiled tenderly at each other across the table.

  Picking up her glass, Lexi took a sip of her mimosa. She’d ordered it heavy on the orange juice, light on the champagne. Reese had assured her that an occasional drink was fine as long as the alcohol cleared her system before she nursed Junior. So while she and Quentin were waiting for room service, she’d pumped some breast milk that had accumulated overnight, then stored the bottles in the suite’s mini fridge.

  “So what was your point?” Quentin prompted.

  “About you living only in Atlanta?”

  “Yeah.” Humor glinted in his eyes. “You trying to tell me something? You want us to move?”

  She laughed. “No. I was just making an observation.”

  He nodded, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “Atlanta’s the only place I’ve ever wanted to be. It’s home.”

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed, smiling. “But anywhere would be home a
s long as we were together.”

  “Absolutely.” He smiled at her. “Just out of curiosity, if we ever did decide to move, where would you want to go?”

  “Hmm.” She pursed her lips, contemplating the question. “It’s hard to say. I love Paris, but I’d never want to move that far away from our families. As much as I enjoyed living in New York while I was in school, I don’t know if I could ever see us settling down there. Same goes for Washington, D.C. Like, if Marcus ever proposed the idea of you moving there to run the D.C. office, I’m not sure how I’d feel about that.” She sighed. “Honestly, it would be very hard to leave Atlanta. Our whole lives are here. Not only our families and friends and jobs, but all the things we care about and are involved in. Like our alumni associations.”

  Lexi and Quentin loved their alma maters. They donated generously to Spelman and Morehouse, assisted with fundraising and recruitment, served on committees, and participated in various programs and activities sponsored by the two colleges. And they absolutely loved hearing about other Spel–House unions; they’d attended three such weddings that year alone.

  “So judging by your response, Mrs. Reddick,” Quentin drawled humorously, “is it safe to assume you won’t wake up one day and announce that we should move to, say, a farmhouse in Nebraska?”

  Lexi laughed. “Oh, you got jokes?”

  He grinned. “Just sayin’.”

  “No,” she retorted with a grin. “I won’t be making any crazy suggestions like that. No offense to Nebraska farmers, but we’re staying right where we are. Sweet Home Atlanta.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Quentin picked up another plump strawberry, then leaned forward and held it to Lexi’s lips. When she parted them, he eased the strawberry into her mouth.

  “Mmm,” she purred, savoring the sweet, bursting berry. “Delicious.”

  “Very.” He sat back, watching her as he licked his fingers. “But not as delicious as you.”

  She smiled coyly. “Didn’t I tell you I taste good?”

  “You sure did.” His eyes gleamed at the memory of their sexy repartee at the bar. “Damn, baby. That was hot as hell.”

 

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