Quincy: A Montana Bounty Hunters Story

by Devlin, Delilah

  With his thumb, he stretched the hood guarding her clit, though it was mostly retracted, and closed his lips around her small nub, drawing on it, feeling the bulbous shape of it, then tightening his lips around the base.

  Her belly quivered, and her thighs gripped his sides, arching to push her hips closer to him as he suctioned and fingerfucked her, adding a third until she was moaning steadily. The second she came, her body jerked, her breasts rising, her neck arching back.

  He eased the pressure around her clit but continued to lick it, soothing her now, slowing his strokes inside her, reaching to gently rub against what he hoped was her G-spot. By the way her head thrashed, he was pretty sure he’d found it.

  When, at last, she sank against the mattress, she was slack-mouthed and gasping. He pulled away and padded to the counter where he’d left the box of condoms and quickly cloaked himself before joining her on the bed.

  Tamara kept her eyes closed as he lifted her legs and carried them up onto the mattress. Then she peeked at him. When he had her in the center, he settled on his side, resting his head on his hand. If not for the rock-hard cock poking at her hip, she might have thought he had all the time in the world to stare at her.

  When he twisted her nipple, she guessed he was more impatient than she’d believed. She blinked at him. “Ouch…?”

  “You didn’t like that?” he said, leaning toward her to kiss her shoulder.

  “It deserved a complaint.”

  “Too hard?”

  She frowned, her gaze locking on his expression. “If I say yes?”

  He held up his hand, two fingers pointing upward. “Then I won’t ever do that again. Scout’s honor.”

  “As if you were ever a Boy Scout.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay…I liked it.”

  “Thought as much.”

  He sounded way too smug.

  She gave him a withering glare. “That does not mean I’ll be into all that kinky stuff.”

  His mouth twitched. “Kinky stuff?”

  “Yeah, whips and spanking benches. And who needs a damn contract to fuck?”

  His chest shook. “I plucked your nipple. How did that translate to ‘I want to make you my sex slave’?”

  She narrowed her eyes again. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Maybe, but only because I’m enjoying this.”

  She understood exactly what he felt. “This” was something she’d never had. And she couldn’t quite describe what it actually was. Maybe a kind of comfortable ease. She was nude with a very well-built, handsome man, and she didn’t feel…less. His gaze had been riveted to her while she’d played with herself. Even now, his glance roamed her body, his expression truly appreciative of her curves. Tamara knew she wasn’t some long-limbed model, but she knew he liked what he saw.

  She reached for his cock and lightly wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock where the condom didn’t cover him. His skin was like stretched satin and humidly hot. His hardness made her heart thump, and suddenly, she was ready for more, her pussy tightening, a fine ripple of arousal sliding along her inner channel.

  Ready to ask him to take her, she drew a deep breath, but he leaned over her, placing a hand on her face as he brushed his lips over hers.

  Just like their first time, they hadn’t kissed much. Hadn’t fully explored each other’s mouths. They’d been too desperate to connect their bodies, to stoke their inner fires. But now, he seduced her mouth, rubbing gently, using his thumb to tilt her head just so as he angled his head to lick the seam of her mouth until she opened. And oh fuck, his beard! It rasped against her skin and lips, heating her skin. She didn’t care that she’d have a whisker burn, she loved the added texture to his kiss.

  As sexy as the slide of his cock inside her body, his tongue crept inside to tease hers, stroking over her taste buds, arousing that sense with a hint of mint and his own unique flavor. Then he touched her teeth, the roof of her mouth—something no one had ever been interested in doing. He explored her thoroughly, probably deliberately showing her how he’d explore the rest of her—a thought that left her a little dizzy with want and excitement. When he sucked on her tongue, she felt as though he’d plucked her breast again as a sizzling arc of electricity coiled inside her belly.

  The last suctioning kiss he gave her before pulling back was so delicious she followed him, trying to linger in the moment. When she blinked open her eyes, his irises were nearly consumed by his dark pupils. His nostrils were flared, and red stained his cheeks above his beard.

  “Roll over,” he whispered.

  She clung to his gaze, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but she rolled away, lying on her belly as he moved beside her, reaching for a pillow.

  “Lift your hips.”

  Adjusting her knees, she lifted her belly off the mattress, making room as he stuffed the pillow beneath her, elevating her ass.

  “Rest on your elbows.” When she did, he smoothed his hand over the hollow at the small of her back. “Arch a bit more. Get your knees under you and spread them.”

  She groaned and dropped her head. That easy, comfortable feeling vanished. When he moved between her legs, she knew what he saw. What was bared for him. “This is embarrassing,” she said. “I know you’re staring.”

  “What am I staring at?” he asked, his soft tone even.

  Because he couldn’t see, she stuck out her tongue. “Everything.”

  “Don’t pout. And everything’s not specific enough. What exactly am I staring at?”

  There was no teasing tone to his voice, just an edgy stubbornness. He wasn’t going to do anything until she answered his question.

  “My pussy,” she said, cringing at saying the word out loud.

  “Pussy isn’t very specific.”

  “Bastard,” she muttered under breath. A smack landed against her “unspecific” pussy, startling her into blurting, “My labia, my vagina!”

  “What else?”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. She didn’t like acknowledging what else he was looking at. He wasn’t leaving her any modesty. Drawing a shaky breath, she said, “My anus.”

  A wet finger touched her there, and she jerked.

  “Have you ever had this fucked?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Good.”

  The fingertip swirled on top of it, and Tamara’s entire body tensed. “You’re not going to, are you?”

  He pressed the tip against her tightly constricted muscles. “Does this make you nervous?”

  She nodded vigorously, releasing a deep sigh of relief as he moved his finger away. When he parted her folds with his thumbs, she drew a deeper breath, relaxing now that he was playing with a part of her that she could handle having touched. Sure, he’d run a finger in her crack when they’d had sex in his Expedition, but this focused interest wasn’t something she was cool with. Still, there was part of her that was becoming addicted to the idea that Quincy didn’t recognize any boundaries of modesty. That he’d be game for anything, and that he’d work hard to coax her into giving him more than she’d ever given another partner.

  When he ran his tongue upward, between her lips, she tilted her ass higher, her thighs quivering as he repeated the stroke again and again. When he licked past her sex and flicked his tongue at her perineum, she couldn’t help gasping. She’d never felt anything like that, but he was dangerously close to…

  His next lick glided over her clit, through her labia, past her perineum, and up her crack. His tongue wasn’t the least bit shy about slathering attention on her forbidden hole. “Quincy!”

  Maybe he didn’t hear her, but he continued licking her there then thrust fingers inside her vagina, distracting her.

  Oh, she could do this. She could. If she didn’t faint because she couldn’t breathe.

  But then he moved away, his weight shifting behind her. When something blunt pushed against her vagina, she gripped the bedding. His inward stroke filled her, rushing forward, stretching the sides of her inner walls. So good.

>   “Damn, you’re so fucking wet…feel so fucking good…”

  She was glad she wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed.

  He gripped the notches of her hips and began to move, delivering measured, rhythmic thrusts that rocked her forward and back. His hands adjusted, fingers clutching her ass, squeezing so hard, she knew she’d have bruises, but she loved the contrast of the exquisite pleasure he provided her pussy with the almost brutal grip of his fingers.

  Then he glided his palms closer and let his thumbs stroke on either side of her crease. He was going there again, but she couldn’t voice an objection, because she was quivering, pleasure coiling, tighter and tighter. When moisture dropped into her crack, she dropped lower to the mattress to rub her breasts against it and waited.

  A thumb caressed her tight hole, rubbing the fluid against it, then Quincy pressed the tip of his thumb against it. The pressure was enormous, causing her to hiss, but she forced herself to relax as he pushed inside. Her reward was a quickening of his strokes. They were shorter, harder, and his balls rocked against her clit. The thumb slipped deeper and swirled, and although she felt a slight burn from the stretch, it faded to the back of her mind because a wave of ecstasy washed over, and she moaned, over and over. She could give no encouragement or direction, nor issue any pleas. She was beyond words, her mind arresting while her body shivered, and she slammed backward against him, needing him to continue to overwhelm her. When she came, a rush of hot and cold flowed over her skin; she squeezed her eyelids so tight little golden lights exploded behind her lids. She heard her voice keen, but the sound seemed distant. Then strong arms surrounded her middle, and the motion of Quincy’s hips slowed. She felt the pulse of his cock as he came inside her.

  When he sagged against her back, she welcomed his weight and squeezed her thighs together to hold him inside her.

  Chapter 7

  When Quincy woke, he knew he was alone. Throughout the night, Tamara’s body had sprawled all over his, her thighs nudging between and over his, her arms draping over his chest. One time, he awoke chuckling because her face had been nestled in his armpit. She’d clung to him as tightly as a lake leech, and he’d loved it.

  Rubbing a hand over his face, he glanced around the shadowy room, but he didn’t find her. Concerned, he dropped his feet over the edge of the bed and stood. He moved quietly to the window and peered outside, relieved to see her sitting on the top porch step, wearing a too-large sweatshirt as she gazed out over the lake.

  He returned to the bed, drew off the coverlet, and went outside. He settled behind her, his legs spreading to bracket hers, and then he pulled the coverlet over both their bodies. The air had a crisp edge to it, and her cheek was cool when he kissed it. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed when she relaxed against his chest.

  “Did you miss me?” she said, her voice sounding a little hoarse.

  “I was cold without my extra blanket.”

  Her body shook against him. “Guess I should have warned you that I tend to snuggle.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  “Ass.”

  She nestled closer. “You’re hot.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “I meant your skin. Although…you are very…good looking.”

  He smiled. “You think so?”

  She made a huffing noise. “As if you don’t know. I practically attacked you twice.”

  “You did attack me, at least once. I have the scorch marks to prove it,” he said, referring to the way she’d used a can of hairspray and a lighter to create a blowtorch to trap him in her beauty chair.

  “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Not when it makes you the most memorable woman I’ve ever met.”

  She angled her head to look back at him. “When did you get a silver tongue?”

  He shrugged against her. “Might be I’m getting comfortable having you around.”

  “Not too much,” she said, wiggling her butt against his morning erection.

  “Stop moving, and it might lose interest.”

  “And what would be the point in that?” Her eyelids dipped.

  His temperature rose. He bent his neck and kissed her shoulder. “I was thinking. Do you want to head back to Amity today?”

  Her expression shuttered before she faced away. “Sure.”

  He hugged her. “I’m not trying to get rid of you. I just thought since I have another day off, it might be better for me to come back home with you to make sure that if there’s any trouble I’ll be there to protect you. We can see if Tommy’s friends are looking for some revenge.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I need to dust.”

  “I won’t judge your housekeeping skills. Promise.”

  “Might be nice to have you underfoot somewhere with a few more pieces of furniture.”

  “We can grab something to eat along the way.”

  “We just bought groceries.”

  “Anything that will spoil we can bring with us. The rest we can use the next time we come here.”

  She was silent for a moment, then, “There’s going to be a next time?”

  He kissed her cheek. “I hope so. Depends on you, I guess. Sometimes, my work gets hectic. If you can stand not seeing me for long spells, I promise I’ll at least try to call.”

  “Well, I have a life of my own. I keep pretty busy, too. I might not even notice when you’re not around.”

  “One condition,” he said then took a deep breath. “I’d like to keep this exclusive. Just you and me.”

  “I don’t have time for a bunch of men in my life. One’s plenty,” she said, sounding a little breathless. “Besides, I’m kind of spoiled.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his lips because he recognized that tone. She was about to say something bound to make him laugh. “How’s that?”

  “You’ve got me all stretched out. Custom fitted.”

  “Damn,” he whispered. “Now you’ve done it. He’s never going down.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, turning in his arms then backing down the steps. “Did I tell you I like all-protein breakfasts?” Then she reached for his cock and ducked down to take him in her mouth.

  They drove back to Amity, both wearing satisfied smiles. Tamara couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d ever felt this content with the world.

  The sun was shining in a clear blue sky. The handsomest man she’d ever met sat beside her holding her hand atop the console. And she had him to herself for another entire day…and night. Best yet, she’d be able to change into her own damn clothing as soon as they got to her house.

  They’d stopped for breakfast in Polson at a Waffle House, and she’d learned he liked everything “smothered and covered” with cheese and onions—just like he liked to be with his women, he’d said, teasing her again about how she’d crawled all over his body the night before.

  So, she was a little handsy and feetsy. He seemed to like that about her. In fact, he seemed to like a lot of things about her, like the pink color of her nipples, the size of her breasts and ass…the tight fit her “cunt”—a word she was getting used to hearing from him because he said it with sexy, growling edge to his voice.

  Lord, there was lots she liked about him, too. For instance, the way he’d handled her in bed right before they’d locked up the cabin—firmly and a little aggressively, like he was impatient to get her placed just right because he had to get inside her quick. She’d have bruises on the bruises on her ass, but every twinge made her hot. “Can you go any faster?” she asked.

  He gave her a sideways glance. “Do you have to pee? I can stop somewhere.”

  His mouth was doing that thing where it moved around, like he was trying to hide a smile. “No, I don’t have to pee.”

  “Ah.” He nodded and kept his gaze on the highway in front of them…and he gave the SUV a little more gas.

  She must have slept a little while, because it seemed like moments late
r, he was patting her thigh.

  “Hey, we’re in Amity.”

  She blinked her eyes open and gave him a smile. “Sorry about that.”

  “It was no problem. I want you well-rested.”

  “Dang, does everything you say sound like a sexual invitation?”

  He arched a brow and turned off the Main Street, heading toward her place. As they drew near, she straightened in her seat. Something was wrong.

  Smoke rose in the distance. And as they made the final turn onto her street, she noted the firetrucks and police cars—lining the street in front of her place. Beyond the vehicles and men, she could see that her place was a charred husk of a house, smoke still rising from glowing embers.

  “Goddammit,” Quincy bit out.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she pushed open her door, hopping to the ground then rushing toward her home.

  A firefighter stepped into her path. “Ma’am, you can’t go any closer.”

  A small hand gripped her upper arm.

  She glanced to her side and saw Miss Gracie, her expression somber. The older woman’s hair was in rollers, and she wore a bathrobe cinched tightly at her waist, and Crocs on her feet.

  “Started in the middle of the night,” Miss Gracie said. “I was up late, listening to my police scanner when the call went out. I came right away. Told them you had to be inside.” Her gaze went to Quincy who’d come up on her other side. “I’m so glad you weren’t.”

  Another fireman approached. “Are you Tamara Davis?”

  She nodded.

  He drew a deep breath and smiled. “You had us worried, ma’am. We didn’t see a car parked in the drive, so we had some hope…”

  “Do you know how it started?” she asked.

  “We won’t know for certain until after the fire dies out.”

  “Ten to one, it’s arson,” Quincy said.

  The firefighter gave him a sharp glance. “Why would you say that?”

  “I’m a bounty hunter. A group of us took down Tommy Walton yesterday.”

  “I heard about that.” He made a face. “News travels quick in a small town.”