by Jewel E. Ann
I looked up at him through my mascara covered lashes and gave him my best innocent smile. After we made our way down to the tent, Quinn seated me in my chair then feathered his index finger up my bare back to my halter tie. He took a shaky breath and exhaled with a moan as I felt his mouth ghost across my hair behind my ear, releasing a seductive whisper. “So distracting.”
It was about seventy degrees with a light breeze, and I couldn’t blame the shiver that vibrated my whole body on the cool evening.
I’m in way over my head.
He took his seat just as a server appeared out of nowhere with two glasses of water garnished with spiraled lemons and a bottle of red wine.
“Merlot, miss?”
“Thank you.”
The server gestured the offer to Quinn but he gave a slight shake of his head while keeping his eyes locked on mine. The server asked us if we were ready for our salads, but Quinn told him to give us a few minutes.
“You don’t like red wine?”
“I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Then why did you have the server offer it?”
“I thought you might enjoy some wine.”
“What made you think that?”
He shook his head and let out a light laugh. “Just a shot in the dark, Addy, that’s all it was.”
“Are you an alcoholic?” I pried.
“No.”
“So … why then?”
“Are you originally from Milwaukee?” he countered.
“I take it we’re done discussing your reasons for abstaining from drinking?”
“Correct.” His eyes were piercing and his face was tense. I saw his jaw muscles twitching, and I imagined his molars were prematurely wearing away. We’d exchanged a few words but it was the unspoken ones that made me feel chastised for prying into his personal life. I gave him a slow nod in acceptance and focused my eyes on my wine glass. Grateful the whole bottle was mine because I was going to need some liquid courage to make it through the evening.
“Chicago, born and raised,” I shared to break the awkward silence.
Quinn’s face relaxed and I again recognized the face that had been waiting at my door earlier.
“What brought you to Milwaukee?”
My pathetic attempt to rebel and leave the Midwest.
“I wanted to stay on the lake and near a larger populous that could support a vegan café without the extreme chaos of Chicago.” It even sounded ridiculous to me, but I thought he’d let it fly for the moment.
“So is your family still in Chicago?”
“I’m an only child and my parents are dead.” God I hated myself for sounding so callous but dead said I’m fine and died invited too much sympathy that I didn’t want. I was hoping the food would arrive soon. That line of questioning required a lot of wine so I had to get some food in my stomach.
Quinn looked pained but not like he was sharing mine; it looked like his own. “Addy, I’m—”
“It’s fine,” I cut him off.
“How’d they die?”
I thought he’d take the hint. Most people did.
“Are you originally from Milwaukee?” I retorted.
He gave me a knowing close-lipped smile while he fiddled with his napkin on the table.
“Well played, Addy.”
I batted my eyelashes at him over the rim of my wineglass and took another sip.
Saved by romaine, our salads arrived and I was pleased to see they were void of cheese, meat, and eggs. Ironically, some guys didn’t connect the dots that the owner of a vegan café would most likely be a vegan. But Quinn remembered because he was not just “some guy.”
As I tried to stab the appropriate amount of lettuce to fit in my mouth without dripping vinegar on my dress, Quinn dabbed his mouth with his napkin and cleared his throat. “Let’s try a different approach, what would you like to tell me about yourself?”
My soul is injured. My heart is shattered but won’t stop beating. You see the person I want to be, not who I am. I don’t fear death, I fear the pieces of my heart could be further shattered and it will still be beating.
“I love good food, yoga, and sailing. I despise chemicals, war, and Styrofoam. When I’m not donating food and insanely expensive shirts to refugees, I walk dogs at the local shelter. I have an appreciation for all genres of music, but my heart belongs to classic rock. I can play any instrument but my favorite is the piano. I floss every day and belong to the Milwaukee Hooping Club, however, I am the sole member. I’ve driven the same car for 10 years; she’s a red Toyota Prius and her name is Karma. I was diagnosed with photographic memory at an early age, but the more precise term is Eidetic, ‘adjective pertaining to or constituting visual impressions recalled vividly and readily reproducible with great accuracy.’ Oh, and I rank dark chocolate on the same level as oxygen as being imperative to my existence, so kudos to you for the truffles.”
Quinn was leaning back in his chair with his chin resting on his steepled fingers. The look on his face was unreadable, but after an awkward silence he spoke. “Why do I get the sense you’ve just told me everything and nothing about yourself all at the same time? But the most disturbing part for me is I don’t know what hooping is or if I should feel privileged or frightened to be sitting with the lone member of such an exclusive club.”
It may have been my third glass of wine or that I genuinely enjoyed Quinn’s company and our playful banter, but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, and his reflected the same sentiments.
“Hula hooping.” I giggled. Okay, it was the wine because I laughed often but my true giggle came out when I got a wee bit inebriated.
“Hula hooping? Sounds sexy.”
“Oh yeah, real sexy, ranks up there with pole dancing. In fact, I was wavering between the two but hooping won over because my pole wouldn’t fit in the back of Karma.” I giggled again.
Oh my God, I have got to lay off the wine. How embarrassing!
The server brought our dinner and offered to open another bottle of wine, but Quinn shook his head and waved him away before my impaired brain had time to formulate an answer.
“Okay, Quinten …” I somehow managed to stretch his two syllable name into three. “Quid pro quo, what’s your thirty second summary?”
He looked at me with such intensity it made me feel vulnerable in my altered state that I had to squeeze my legs together to ward off the unwelcome pressure in the pit of my stomach and the hypersensitivity in my girly parts. He broke into his signature knowing half grin, like he knew precisely what he did to me.
“I am the oldest of three. My mother is from Spain, my father is from Brazil. However, I was born and raised in New York. I studied business and finance at Dartmouth, but I’ve always been good with numbers and investment intuition. I like extreme sports and I’m a self-professed adrenaline junkie. I’ve traveled the world, more than once, and when I’m not seeking adventure or traveling for business I reside in New York. I’m not a vegan, but I eat well to keep fit and I, too, love good food. I enjoy beautiful women but my longest relationship only lasted six weeks. And … I rarely get side-tracked in places like Milwaukee.”
“You’re side-tracked?”
“Completely.” His gazed fell to my lips.
I said nothing but slowly mouthed wow! At a complete loss of what to do or say, I scooted back in my chair and stood.
“Where are you going?” Quinn questioned while standing and reaching for my arm.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I should have stopped at one glass of wine and while I wasn’t drunk, I was having trouble expressing what I was feeling. No, Addy, don’t feel, think. Should I smack the smug SOB in the face, run like hell, or drag his ass back to my loft? Maybe Addy the giver would be Addy the receiver for one night, fuck his brains out then kick his ass to the curb before he had time to fasten his pants. A devilish grin pulled at my lips when I thought of the player getting played.
I used my other hand to remove his grip from
my arm and laced our fingers together. Without a word I pulled him toward my loft. His face conveyed uncertainty, but I think he sensed my urgency and followed without question.
When we reached my loft, I left the lights off but the blinds were up and the street lights provided enough illumination. Quinn carefully watched me sit on the arm of my sofa while I removed my shoes.
“Addy … we don’t have to—”
“Shut up,” I demanded in an authoritative voice I didn’t even recognize.
As the alcohol started to wear off, I found my own adrenaline rush and picked up my pace over to him. I grabbed his jacket and ripped it off his broad shoulders. His tie soon followed and my shaky hands made the buttons of his shirt a bigger challenge than I expected. Impatient that the distraction of my fumbling hands would make me lose my nerve, I pulled at his shirt until the next two buttons popped off. He grabbed my wrists halting my motions, so I pushed up on my toes and crashed my lips to his. My heart was beating at a racing pace, and my movements felt frantic and desperate. He released my wrists and cupped my face while I melted my mouth further into his, releasing a soft moan. Our tongues met and explored each other in an erotic dance. My fidgety hands tugged at the button to his pants, but he broke our kiss and pulled back.
“Addy, slow down,” he breathed.
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Slowing down would’ve given my brain too much time to rethink my intentions. I just wanted to take Quinn on my terms: fast, heated, and unattached.
“No.” I finished unzipping his pants and gripped the waist band to pull them down.
Quinn grabbed my wrists again and held them at my chest, this time with more force. “Addy, stop!”
I froze, feeling rejected, embarrassed, and confused. The uneven tempo of our breaths permeated the silence. I sensed his dark eyes burning into me, but I refused to look at him. He was stealing my moment and I just wanted him to leave.
“Look at me.” His voice was softer but demanding.
If I looked at him he would have seen right through me to a part of me that I was not sharing with him or anyone—ever. All I could do was stare down at his hands holding my arms.
“I can’t … I can’t look at you.” My voice was shaky, my body rigid, and tears were threatening my eyes. We were silent for what felt like an eternity.
“Then don’t. Just close your eyes. Don’t think, just feel … with your body, not your heart. Just close your eyes, just for tonight, just for this moment, and just … feel.”
His words were but a whisper, a command, a promise. He was offering me one night and maybe that was all I wanted. Maybe I just needed to be touched in a way I hadn’t been in years. So I did, I closed my eyes and just felt.
Quinn released my wrists and moved my hands back to his chest. The touch of his skin beneath my hands soothed me. With steady hands, I finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. I drifted my hands back across his broad shoulders and down his chest, exploring and tracing every chiseled muscle. He stood still, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest, as though he knew what I needed and was offering it to me without reservation. Appreciating the firm definition of his back as I inched my fingertips to his waist, I slipped my hand under the band of his briefs without hesitation and kneaded his deliciously firm butt. He shifted just enough that I felt his erection press against my abdomen. My lips whispered kisses over his chest and stopped to taste his nipple with the tip of my tongue, which was his undoing.
His breath caught and he moved his hands up my bare back with enough pressure to tell me he was tense and fighting his own battle to take it slow. He pulled the ties of my halter, letting the top of my dress fall. The fabric pooled at the top of my breasts, and the only thing holding it on my body was the contact of my chest to his stomach. He cupped my face with both hands and ran his thumb across my bottom lip. I flicked my tongue out to lick it then drew the tip of it in my mouth, sucking and biting before releasing it. He moved both hands down my neck and over my chest, drifting to the top of my breasts. Pausing for a second before sliding them down the rest of my body, he pushed at the fabric until nothing was holding it up and it fell to the floor at my feet. My heart was racing and his searing touch sent jolts of sensation to my sex.
His large hands cupped my breasts while massaging and circling my taut nipples with his thumbs.
“Oh God,” I moaned, tilting my head up and arching my back, pushing my breasts further into his grasp.
His mouth captured mine, absorbing my moan, his tongue deep in my mouth mimicking the motion of his thumbs stimulating my nipples. Everything below my waist was hot and melting. I moved one of my hands from his backside, keeping it on the inside of his boxer briefs, but slowly navigating it to grasp his full, hard length. The moment I touched him he broke our kiss again.
“Fuuuck … Addy …” Knowing I was doing this to him intensified my eagerness.
He thrusted into my hand until he couldn’t take it anymore.
“God, you’ve got to stop, I’m going to lose it.”
He pulled my hand out and grabbed the other one, wrapping both around his neck. In one swift movement, he gripped my legs and pulled me up to him. As I wrapped my legs around his waist, he started a new assault on my mouth with his tongue while walking us to my bedroom. The pulsing of his length pushing at my wet entrance, separated by the lace of my panties, made me anxious. My legs were a vice around his waist as my heels dug into his firm ass. I clawed at his back and shoulders with undeniable hunger as he pulled me to his hard body. My need to feel him in me was carnal.
“Quinn—” I panted.
He laid me on my bed and had to peel me off him. I was so desperate I could have self combusted. He stood and I was a panting mess. With the loss of contact, I opened my eyes and saw his pulsing erection half exposed at the top of his briefs. My body writhed in yearning as I watched him remove the rest of his clothes. I had changed my mind; Quinn surpassed Michelangelo’s David. How was it possible for a human to look so perfect? Every part of his anatomy was hard, defined, sculpted, and flawless.
His eyes found mine and he whispered, “Close your eyes and remember, tonight just feel.”
So I did. I closed my eyes and surrendered my body, telling my heart to disappear, just for one night.
I felt his hands on my feet then drifting up my legs, his hot breath at my core, his lips ghosting across my lace panties. Hooking his fingers along the top, he pulled them at a painfully slow pace down my legs. His lips and tongue leisurely made another ascent up my legs, sucking, licking, and nibbling at my hypersensitive skin. My knees were trembling, but then I felt his hands on me, steadying them for a moment then spreading them wider. The rush of cool air sent a whole new flood of sensations to my hot, wet core. His lips continued to burn a path up my inner thighs. My nerves were frayed and I was desperate to find some balance, some control. I reached for his head and started fisting and pulling his thick dark hair. He released a deep guttural groan that made me wanton. I wasn’t a virgin, but Quinn’s mouth was the first to touch me there. He paused and I felt his hot breath so close to my core, I didn’t know if he was breathing in my scent or trying to read my signals. My fingers clenched in his hair were at conflict, one hand pushed him away, the other pulled him closer.
“Addy, just feel,” he breathed and then … he was there.
“Oh God!” I cried.
It was impossible to hold back. My hips jerked off the bed the moment his tongue penetrated my folds. With one hand on my hip he pushed me back down on the bed while the other traveled up my stomach reaching for my breast, kneading it at first then pinching my nipple. What felt like pain for an instant turned into a lightening sensation straight to my sex causing me to uncontrollably buck my hips up again. His tongue moved away from my core.
No!
Then I felt his long finger slip into me, and I moaned in desperation. Then two more followed. I tightened around him as he bent them putting pressure on ju
st the right spot.
“Ah, Quinn, I’m going to … ah …” I was engorged, vibrating, and ready to burst. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Let it go. Feel it, all of it.” He moved his thumb and circled my clitoris once and I exploded.
I yelled his name in a mix of pleasure and embarrassment. What he did felt so wrong and yet so very, very right. Leaving his fingers in me and his thumb still rubbing my nub, he moved his body up mine and sucked on one of my nipples while pinching and rolling the other one. The sensation was electrifying and it drew out my orgasm longer than I’d ever experienced or even imagined possible.
I was breathless, my body was trying to make its way back down to Earth. I couldn’t even formulate a coherent thought. “Fuck … me—” I moaned in satisfaction, once again hearing foreign words come out of my mouth.
What is he doing to me?
He cut me off with a deep passionate kiss, plunging his tongue into my mouth. Then he trailed kisses across my face and whispered in my ear, “I plan to.”
Holy shit!
He removed his fingers and spread my wetness around. Hovering over me, with his weight on his elbows and his hands tangled in my long blonde locks, he lowered his mouth to my neck. I gripped his firm arms as he sucked every inch of my throat, ear lobe, and then back to my mouth. When his tongue collided with mine and our kiss deepened, I felt so possessed by him, I could have orgasmed again just by that sensation alone. The guy could seriously kiss.
I felt his erection rubbing against my leg as I grazed my fingers down his muscle-strained back to his firm gluteal muscles contracting and releasing as he rubbed his length against my thigh. I brought my hand around and grasped him, using my thumb to rub circles over the wet tip of his cock then stroking the entire length.
“Fuck, Addy, you’re killing me.”
He kneeled in front of me and I opened my eyes just as he was rolling on a condom.
“Over.” He signaled, circling his finger.
I hesitated for a moment. My experience with sex was missionary position and only missionary. I swallowed back my apprehension and rolled onto my stomach.