by Anne Conley
He turned into something savage then. As if she’d given him the permission he needed, he sat back and watched himself as he disappeared into her, slamming into her with forceful thrusts, each one a slap of her clit with his pelvic bone.
It was faster than all the others. One second she was rocking along, enjoying everything, the next, she was clamoring for something to tether her to reality as Quinten flicked his thumb over her clit and pressed down.
She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see, and she couldn’t hear. Everything had gone dark, but the sensations still roiled through her, marauding her body with delight, until Quinten collapsed on top of her, tugging her into a tight hold.
Bliss.
Quinten couldn’t get enough of Valerie’s curves under his hands. He’d pulled her into him, thinking they might sleep this way, but the feel of her full breasts in his hands, nipples growing taut again, only stoked the flames inside him. He grew hard against the curve of her delectable ass and was tempted to bend down and bite it. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to stop there, especially if she was amenable. He knew what his cock looked like, pumping in and out of her, covered in her moisture. He knew what she felt like when she came around it, how she strangled it with her inner muscles. A groan escaped him at the thought, and he rubbed against her now arching ass.
Valerie was unlike any woman he’d ever known. For one thing, she wasn’t using him. Quinten had been used his entire life. His parents had used him to further their own agenda when Simon wouldn’t fulfill their wishes. Simon, even, had used him—to an extent—as a buffer between him and their parents. The women at the fights had only wanted to have sex with a fighter, not him. And he’d obliged them all.
But not Valerie. Maybe that’s why he’d been drawn to her from the beginning. She wasn’t comfortable here, in her own skin, but she was comfortable with him. Or she was getting there. Something about her sang to him, a song he couldn’t get enough of.
“I need a shower. Care to join me?” Her husky voice was saying words he’d never dreamed he’d actually get to hear, but it made his cock jump.
“Hell yeah,” he murmured in her ear, biting the lobe softly, making her giggle. Something inside him broke at that moment, like a dam, and a massive sense of pride and possessiveness rushed in, clouding his vision as she got out of bed, naked, and sauntered to the bathroom.
She stopped at the door, giving him what had to be a “come hither” look, crooking her finger, smiling, then slipping inside. He heard the shower turn on, and then a low moan as she slipped under the spray.
Quinten scrambled out of bed and followed her, unable to see inside the bathroom for the steam. He got a glimpse of skin through the shower door before it faded behind rising mist, and he rushed to join her.
She had a beautiful body, and as he got inside the shower, he was surprised once again at her new forwardness. Valerie had already soaped up her hands and reached for him, her hands sliding maddeningly over his wet skin. His pecs tingled as she focused on his nipples, drawing circles and scraping her fingernails across them. A shudder escaped as she dipped her hands lower, circling downward.
“Tease,” he scolded her.
“Anticipation is a powerful aphrodisiac. I thought you would appreciate it.” She smiled at him, and it was the first smile he’d seen on her face without one of those damn masks on it. It made her model cheekbones pop, her eyes sparkle, and it effectively took his breath away.
Her scars were barely noticeable—faint traces of something she’d survived in her past, visible reminders of trauma—but only if one looked for them. Quinten dipped his head down toward her and traced one with his lips, from her neck to her nose, branding her with his mouth as her moan filled his ears, and she melted into his body.
He slicked up his own hands and started exploring the smooth skin on Valerie’s body, the elegant curves he’d admired from afar. If he were honest with himself, he was claiming her. Again. He’d claim her over and over if that’s what it took to make her realize she belonged to him now.
He pulled her against his body, his hands roaming her back, sliding down to her ass. She whimpered as her breasts slid against his chest, her nipples distended and undoubtedly feeling every prickly hair. His erection slid between her folds, as if it were a heat-seeking missile, determined to find its target. Her whimpers turned to moans, and Quinten was done with the teasing.
“Wait,” he breathed, desperate to catch a breath and make some sense in his befuddled brain. “I don’t have any more condoms.” He leaned his head on her forehead, content to deal with some heavy petting until he could get to a store, but she surprised him.
“Are you clean? I am. And I’m on birth control.” She smiled at him shyly, and his heart soared, even though he wanted to discuss why she was on birth control. He wanted kids. He wanted to see Valerie like Miriam and Krista, only round with his child. But that was a conversation for another time.
“I’m clean.” Right now, his only thoughts were caveman urgencies to claim this woman. With nothing between them, it would be even more.
Lifting her into his powerful arms, he slid his erection into her tight, slick sheath. He had to maneuver her up and down a few times to get it in because she was so damn tight, but each inch inside her made his vision gray around the edges a little more. Made his balls clench closer to his body. Made him see stars.
He had to lean her against the wall, not because he couldn’t hold her—he could bench 250 pounds—but because she felt so damn good he was about to pass out. Leaning his forehead on hers, he looked in her eyes but had no words. She just stared back, but when she got a devilish smile on her face, Quinten had a suspicion he was in for it.
She squeezed her inner walls around his cock. Quinten’s knees buckled.
“Fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was all the encouragement he needed to start moving inside her. He pushed her down, pulled her up, leaned her against the shower wall and pistoned in and out, all to the accompaniment of her moans and words of encouragement.
She was a different woman from the frightened bird he’d met, no less fascinating, though. This deliciously wild side of her was something for the books. Apparently, he’d unleashed the beast inside Valerie.
He pulled a nipple inside his mouth, rolling it around his tongue, suckling on it gently until she demanded more.
“Harder, Quinten.” So he complied, sucking for all he was worth in an effort to get his mind off the bliss that was his cock sinking in and out of her. When her walls started pulsing around him, he couldn’t stave off the orgasm, blindly powering in and out in a blaze of glory.
He kissed Valerie, swallowing her cries of completion as they both came down from their orgasm. Quinten had forgotten his name, why he was here; he only knew this woman was the most important thing in his life right now. And he needed to keep her.
As clarity came back to him, he remembered he needed to go on his rounds. He hadn’t done a check of her house since before the business in the workshop, and instantly, a pang of remorse hit him. There were two other men there, watching things, but if she was in danger because he’d been fucking her, he would never forgive himself.
“I’ve got to go do rounds.” Kissing the tip of her nose, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. She followed, her eyes sad, but said nothing. “I’ll be right back, Valerie. No worries.” He tried to flash her an encouraging smile, but it faltered. He really needed to be careful. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t sink his dick inside her every chance he got. That would be too distracting.
Thoughts of Ryan and the events with Krista when his friend had been protecting the woman he loved sobered Quinten. Ryan had been distracted, and Krista had been kidnapped from his home. A shudder went up his spine.
Slipping on a pair of sweat pants, he let himself out of her room to go make his rounds and get his head back on straight.
Valerie had slipped on comfy leggings and an enormous sweatshirt two hours ago but
lounged in bed, feeling decadent and well-used. Used being the operative word.
Quinten had gone to do rounds and hadn’t been back. And it seemed awfully easy for him to slip out of her and run off to “do rounds” after the epic fuck fest in her shower. She saw now, that’s all it was. He’d been so quick to remember she was paying him for a job and left her alone.
The sex had been amazing, but the whispered words of endearment were hollow when followed by his actions.
He’d left her. Okay, so Quinten wasn’t a cuddler. But he hadn’t come right back like he’d said he would. She had watched him do the rounds on her monitor, but now, he was sitting in her aviary, silent. Brooding.
Deciding she was hungry—ravenous, actually—Valerie rose. She wasn’t going to sit around moping about whether or not Quinten liked her. He’d given her something she never thought she’d have again—passion. Quinten had showed her she could be desirable; all was not lost.
Debating her mask choices for the day, Valerie swallowed hard as she fingered the lacy filigree on the one that matched the sweater she wore. He’d seen every inch of her skin and hadn’t recoiled at all. She felt safe around him, whether or not it meant anything to Quinten. Still, she felt the need for the extra layer of protection, maybe today more than ever. Things were different between them now. There was an air of expectation and regret, and she didn’t like it.
Resolutely, she affixed the mask to her head and spun around to go to the kitchen.
He may be regretting his decision to sleep with her, but Valerie had none. She was going to make a breakfast worthy of champions in appreciation for the man who’d made her feel like a queen.
After cooking a huge breakfast for Quinten, which was more than awkward, Valerie and Quinten were out in the aviary. She had some neatening up to do out there and sitting around, trying to figure out what to say to Quinten was just hard. The birds were her favorite part of her day, but they required maintenance, as did the lovely fauna out here. Rudy would be happy to take care of it, but she felt like the outside landscaping was enough for him, and she honestly enjoyed doing this for her birds.
As she raked the dead leaves and things up from the ground under the trees and flowering shrubs, she felt Quinten’s heat on her backside, and she tried to ignore it. He was sitting on the bench, watching her while Batman cleaned his beak on Quinten’s scruff. It was endearing how attached Batman had gotten to the hulk of a man. As big as the bird was (actually small in terms of parrots) he looked like a parakeet next to Quinten.
Up until last night, Quinten had been safe, protective, steadfast. That was the word: steadfast. And she loved that about him. She knew what to expect with Quinten, in terms of behavior. He was old-school, educated, and proper. But last night showed a different side to him, a passionate side Valerie was unsure how to handle.
As she raked everything into a pile she could shovel up and put in trash bags, she contemplated the man sitting with Batman. He idly stroked the bird, his face unreadable, his eyes hot. It seemed like every time he’d looked at her this morning, his gaze was intense. Burning.
She wondered if his eyes looked that way when he fought in the ring. She’d watched the videos so many times, but the images were grainy and she hadn’t picked up the details—like the way Quinten’s eyes looked when he let the passion overtake him on the mat. Did they look the way he looked at her now? It scared her. Passion was unpredictable. She couldn’t handle unpredictability.
She had spent the last three years in a predictable existence, making her life almost trite, boring. And now, this man had come into it and shaken everything up. Granted, the stalker had initially made things unpredictable, but Quinten was only exacerbating things.
And the sex last night? She didn’t even know how to deal with that. Clearly, it had changed things between them, but she couldn’t wrap her brain around it to see how. She had gone from scarred and afflicted to desired and beautiful in the span of a few minutes. Her entire world had turned upside down.
He hadn’t brought it up since the shower this morning, and the longer they went without talking about it, the tighter Valerie’s insides got. Still, she was content to not bring anything up and open the conversation. What if this was it? A few nights of amazing sex were all she would get from Quinten? She wasn’t ready to hear those words. Even so, she knew she would take it if it was all she could get.
Quinten broke the silence, and thankfully, he was back in investigator mode. She could handle professional Quinten. “Where did all these birds come from?”
Valerie finished raking the piles and started for the trash bags, which Quinten jumped up and beat her to, holding one open.
Thankful for something to talk about to get her mind off her own deceitful thoughts, Valerie relaxed. “During the trial, I was living in the penthouse of one of the hotels in Austin, and I needed someplace to live permanently. But I couldn’t bring myself to look at houses. I just didn’t care. So my parents bought this place for me. Probably because of the birds. It was way more house than I wanted, but the couple selling, the Everhearts, were old friends of my parents who were moving to Florida. Mom talked them into leaving me the birds. Batman came from an online estate auction a little while later. He belonged to an old woman, whose son was getting rid of him, and I happily scooped him up. I’ve always wanted an African Grey but had never wanted one smuggled in from the wild. I’m not sure where Batman originally came from, but he’d lived with Mrs. Olsen long enough to pick up on every 80s pop culture reference I can think of.” Valerie shrugged, suddenly at a loss. She loved thinking about her birds but felt like she’d exhausted the subject already. She talked about them to Jenene, who was all about the therapeutic effects of them, and Imogene and Rudy, who wanted to know how to help take care of them. But just talking about them was different for her, probably because of the awkwardness hanging heavily in the air.
She’d been talking to ignore the fact she was standing so close to Quinten as he held open the trash bag for her to dump leaves, dead flowers, and bird poop into it. She tried to breathe through her mouth so she couldn’t smell him, but it was difficult. She was breathing in all sorts of other detritus, trying not to think about exactly what the gritty stuff coating her tongue actually was.
“Do you always wear the mask when you’re at home by yourself? Or is that for my benefit?” He cinched up the full garbage bag and retrieved another one. “Here, you hold it, I’ll put all that trash inside.”
The honesty in his question spurred her on. He was legitimately asking. Maybe he felt as awkward as she did and was trying to find something to make her feel more at ease. Whatever the reason, she appreciated it. “I wear them all the time,” she said quietly. Her masks were a source of simultaneous pride and shame. “Except in the shop. I learned that lesson by nearly cutting off my thumb a couple of years ago.” She offered a rueful laugh, praying he would drop it.
The masks had begun as a child’s fantasy world, something she used to do to pretend she was someone else when the pressures of being a little princess were too hard. Dad would remind her not to sit like that one time too many, and she’d go to her room and put on a mask and pretend she was the Phantom from Gaston Leroux’s novel, not the musical. In the book, he was a monster, having been treated vilely by everyone he’d ever encountered, yet was an engineering genius who’d created a maze of horrors. It was so far from her own reality—the pretty, perfect debutante—some part of her had wanted to be known for a disfiguration, feared for her brilliant mind. It was difficult to explain. She’d tried to tell Jenene once, but the explanation had fallen flat.
So when Argyle had done the disastrous deed, she’d remembered her childhood and honestly believed part of it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. When she was younger, before she’d realized what her beauty could do for her, she’d resented it, longing to be ugly so people would look at her differently. But she’d spend her adolescent years coming to grips with her beauty, using her modeling and her face to
raise money for charities—her family’s and her own—and then Argyle had done this.
She resorted to the comfort of her masks. Again. But instead of comforting a beautiful child, they hid a disfigured woman. They held a safety for her, protected her from the unknown. They were like a security blanket for Valerie.
Quinten was still looking at her. He’d finished loading the trash bag, but she was still holding it open, stuck in stasis.
She gripped the bag shut. “It’s complicated to explain.”
He smiled, his cheeks spreading wide with the expression, teeth gleaming, all of it taking her breath away. Damn him. “I’ve got time.”
She whisked the trash away to the other bag in the corner, turning her back on him. “I don’t want to.”
Yesterday was the first time she’d wanted someone to see her without the mask in a long time. And she didn’t know what to do with that. She’d put it on this morning, after their bed play out of habit, but it had felt comfortable. Like slipping into a pair of soft sweats on a cold day. She didn’t want to get comfortable around Quinten. As things were, she was deliciously uncomfortable around him, but she had no idea how long it would last. When he would catch the bad guy and go away.
When he would leave her. And take his passion with him.
As if seeing the unanswered questions in her eyes, he strode to her, clasping her shoulders in his arms to keep her from turning away again. Valerie was captive in the dark depths of his intelligent gaze. God, this man saw into her soul.
“About last night…” he began, and her heart sank. He was about to tell her it didn’t mean anything, and now they’d gotten it out of their system, they would go back to the way things were before. When her breath caught as he came into the room. When her heart pounded as she watched him on her monitors. When his very presence undid her and she couldn’t say anything about it.