by Jewel E. Ann
“Don’t you?” He took a bite of his sandwich, looking at me.
I blushed, shook my head, and focused on eating without further comment.
“This is good, I mean exceptionally good,” he mumbled before swallowing.
“You act surprised.”
“I am, but not that you created something so great, just that I think this tastes better than any hamburger I’ve ever eaten. And I’ve eaten at some of the finest restaurants in the world.”
“Yeah, well, there’s only so many things you can do to flavor up animal carcass.”
He about choked on his food. “Jeez, you make it sound like restaurants are serving roadkill.”
My lips pursed into a tight smile. “If the shoe fits.”
After sipping a spoon full of soup, he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t even have a good rebuttal because this food tastes so amazing.”
I flashed him a smile of genuine gratitude. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, holding my gaze a bit too long. He looked pleased, yet I sensed the neurotransmitters in his head were working overtime.
“What?” I asked.
With a barely detectable shake of his head, he smiled. “You’re just … not what I expected.”
“Really? What did you expect?”
“A clingy, narcissistic diva.”
“Wow! So pretty much I’m the antonym to what you expected?”
“So it would seem.”
“I guess you needed something in your life to change.”
“Such as?”
“If you have to ask, then it must be something on a subconscious level that has switched off your ‘clingy, narcissistic diva’ magnet. We often attract what we need in life even if we don’t consciously know we’re doing it.”
“Well, Dr. Brecken, what is it about you that I subconsciously need?”
Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I tapped the pad of my index finger against my lips. “You need to feel grounded and I am grounded.”
Like a 747 that fell from the sky … but nonetheless, grounded.
“Grounded? You don’t think I’m grounded?”
“Not so much. You don’t just have money, but you think you need it … lots of it. I imagine you do make charitable contributions, but mostly because it’s good for your reputation and a nice tax write-off. My intuition is you’ve never literally given the shirt off your back to another human, unless she was in need of a make-shift robe after crawling out of your bed naked. You avoid committed relationships because it keeps you disconnected … from what? I’m not sure, most likely a fear of either giving or receiving love.”
“Don’t you think you could have given me the sugar-coated version?”
“That was.” I smiled before sipping some water.
“Okay, so I’m a greedy, selfish, arrogant prick who’s afraid of commitment. What does that say about you? What exactly do you need from me?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”
“And what have you come up with so far?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I told him the truth, or at least the part of it my conscious brain willingly recognized. “Sex.”
*
After dinner we decided to go for a walk along the lake path. There was an intimacy in the way our fingers laced together as our arms swayed with each step. Those simple yet tender moments made me more self-conscious and exposed than his tongue licking chocolate ice cream off the most intimate parts of my body. The ugly face of insecurity mocked me as I wondered if he’d held the hand of the woman who marked his back the way he held mine. Eventually I decided to give my monkey brain a rest and simply be in the moment. We walked in silence for the most part. Agreeing to not talk about anything personal left us with very little to talk about. The silence wasn’t awkward, it was soothing. With Quinn words were not always necessary.
The sun was setting in the horizon. A slight breeze brought cooler evening temperatures. Quinn noticed me shiver, but as I’d come to expect, he didn’t ask if I was cold. Instead, he pulled me into his side and rubbed my goose bump covered arms.
“That night at the pier you said you loved to sail. Do you rent a boat and go out very often?”
“Once or twice a week when it works out.”
He nodded. “The last time I was in town I saw this great sailboat, yacht actually. It was docked at the marina. Made me think of you. I tried to find out who owned it but no one would give out a name.”
It was an odd statement and felt like he was fishing but I wasn’t ready to bite.
“You looking into buying a sailboat?” I suspiciously eyed him.
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
I should have just let it go, but I couldn’t. I eventually took the bait. “What about it made you think of me.”
“Aside from the fact that it was a truly spectacular sailing vessel and you said you loved sailing?”
I nodded.
“The name. It’s called The Sage. Have you seen it before? I can’t imagine you could have missed it.”
I tried not to tense, knowing Quinn would notice since his arm was still wrapped around me, but I couldn’t help it.
“Yeah, I know which one you’re talking about, she looks yare.”
“Do you know the owner?”
“What do you think. Addy?”
“It’s amazing, Mom!”
“Your dad and I knew you’d love it. A beautiful yacht for a beautiful girl.”
“Promise us you’ll never sell her.”
“I won’t, Dad, I promise.”
“Hello, Addy?”
“Uh, what?”
“Where’d you go?” Quinn’s brow wrinkled with concern.
Turning to face him, I slipped my hands up the back of his shirt and pulled him into me. “You’re leaving tomorrow and I haven’t had enough of my sex god fix, so what do you say we head back and you warm me up with your hot body?” I slid my fingers under the waist of his pants and squeezed his magnificent ass.
He reciprocated by grabbing my backside and pulling me against his growing arousal. “I’d say you’re changing the subject, but I don’t give a damn right now.” He stroked his tongue along the crease of my lips then bit the lower one and sucked it into his mouth. My tongue met his and we melted into each other. I could have kissed him all day and never tired of it. My arms encircled his neck and I jumped up wrapping my legs around his waist. He held me with ease as our kiss deepened. My need to feel his skin against mine became overwhelming.
“Take me back,” I whispered in his ear, sucking his lobe into my mouth then running my tongue down his neck.
He released a groan from the back of his throat. I tried to block out the image of him desiring another woman the same way; it was slowly eating away at me like a cancer that could destroy me.
When we reached my loft he carried us straight to the bedroom. His eyes never left mine, stealing a part of me I wasn’t ready to give. I reached over to my nightstand and pressed a playlist on my iPod. Insatiable by Darren Hayes flowed from the speakers throughout my loft. The seductive song heightened the sexual tension that was always so electric between us. He took his time, lacing his fingers through my hair, kissing my neck and lips, cradling my face in his large hands as he rested his forehead on mine.
“You. Are. So. Beautiful,” his breath whispered over my face.
My mended heart felt like someone was squeezing it to the breaking point. I had hoped he would just shove me to the wall and fuck my brains out, to make me feel wanted, but Quinn made me feel desired, beautiful, special … needed. I had to step back. The moment overtook me.
“I think I already made it clear that you’re getting laid, overdoing it is unnecessary” I laughed trying to lighten the mood.
“Stop!” He tilted my head up, forcing me to look in his eyes. “Just … don’t! We may not bare our souls to each other, but when I’m with you, like this …” he ran his finger over my lips then reverently kissed them “ …I’m taki
ng all of you, if only for this moment.”
I hated him for that, but my body, as always with Quinn, deceived me. My mouth took his and I pulled the hem of his shirt up his back, breaking our kiss to pull it over his head. He reached for my shirt and followed suit. Leaning down, he pressed gentle kisses to the swell of my breasts as he unhooked my bra. I watched him leisurely cup my breasts, brushing his thumbs over my nipples. When I looked up, his eyes captured mine. “Beautiful,” he breathed.
I hesitantly shook my head.
“Yes, you are and I’m going to show you just how much I think so.”
His movements were painstakingly slow as he finished removing my clothes. He kissed my feet, ankles, shins, and thighs. Stopping at my lace panties, he brushed his stubbled face over them before continuing up my belly. He took his time kissing my breasts then ghosted his lips along my neck, eventually capturing my mouth. We shared a long lazy kiss like we had all the time in the world. I snaked my hand down to undo his jeans. Placing my palm flat against his stomach, I slipped it under his boxer briefs and wrapped my hand around his hard length.
“Addy,” he moaned into my mouth.
We took our time exploring every inch of each other’s body. Nothing about that night felt rushed, nothing about that night felt like sex. Everything … every touch, every kiss, every look felt intimate.
*
Waking Sunday morning alone in my bed, I slipped on my black lace boyshort panties and a fitted white tank top then headed past the empty bathroom to find an empty great room. I turned toward my deck and spotted my Latin sex god surrounded by a forest of herb plants, talking on his phone. He was wearing nothing but a rugged two day shadow and black boxer briefs that hugged every inch of his sexy ass.
Turning, he caught me, once again, ogling him. His face looked serious and I wondered who he was talking to. The polite reaction would have been to give him a few minutes of privacy, but my Quinn-addicted body vetoed that decision. Admittedly, the new brave—more like brazen—and confident version of Adler Brecken felt good in my skin.
I edged my way closer to him, his face still serious, making a few “yes, no, okay” comments to whomever was on the other end. Walking my body into his chest, I kissed his pectoral muscles and ran my tongue and teeth along his nipple while moving my hands behind him. I pushed down just the backside of his briefs exposing his perfect asset. Squeezing and digging my nails into his hard muscles, I stepped back and pulled him with me so we were no longer on the deck. His dark eyes seared me. I chewed my lip for a split second in contemplation then decided to go for it. Encouraged by his arousal for me against my stomach, I moved my hands around his hips and pulled the front of his briefs down with the back. I took his erection in my mouth and sucked it hard. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. I looked up at him and swirled my tongue around the head. He grabbed my hair, closed his eyes, and urged my mouth back on him.
“Brett, I’ll call you back.” He tossed his phone on the couch. He pulled out of my mouth and reached out to pull me up. “I think I have a naughty little temptress trying to distract me when I’m on the phone. Would I be right?”
He palmed my butt and walked us backwards until I bumped into the kitchen island. Then, reaching behind me he ran his hand over the smooth surface of multiple specks of browns and golds with some scattered cobalt blue chips. “Recycled glass?”
I nodded, not interested in discussing my countertops.
“Hmm, cool to the touch.”
Confused, I wondered where he was going with that comment, but he wasted no time in showing me. First pulling my tank top over my head, then yanking down my panties, he gripped my waist and set my bare ass on the counter top. I took in a quick breath with the sensation of the cool glass on my exposed flesh.
He smirked. “Lie back.”
I eased my back onto the counter. The cool glass sent chills through my body.
“Feet up.”
I put my feet on the counter, and he pushed them back so my heels were touching my butt.
“Don’t move.” He walked to the bedroom then returned a few moments later grabbing two dish towels that were by the sink. Clenching my right wrist he tied it around both my wrist and right ankle.
Holy shit, I’ve never been tied up!
After securing one side, he went to work on my other side. “Relax, Addy, just remember you started this.”
Was I being punished? What did I start?
My head spun as my heart raced from the claustrophobic anxiety of being tied up. Don’t panic, don’t panic.
“Close your eyes and breathe, baby.” He parted my knees wider, wholly exposing me. I searched for deep calming breaths as I closed my eyes. He waited until my breathing evened out. “Are you going to distract me again when I’m on the phone?”
“No,” I whispered.
His tongue ran up my center.
“Ahh.” My body jerked, pulling at my ankles and wrists.
“What’s that, baby, I didn’t hear you?” He inserted a finger in me.
“No,” I breathed out a little louder.
Sliding another finger in, he flicked his tongue over my clitoris causing my body to spasm again.
“Oh God, no!” I tried to bring my knees together, but he had his hands on them keeping me spread wide.
“No what, baby?”
“No … I won’t do it … again.”
“Good girl.” He began moving his fingers in and out causing all the blood in my body to build in that exact spot. The pressure was unbearable.
“Oh God, Quinn!”
“Yes, baby?”
“I can’t take it anymore.” I was a panting mess.
I heard the rip of a condom pack and then his fingers slid out of me, instantly replaced with his mouth.
I moaned in appreciation, wanting to move my hips into him but he still held me down. “Untie me, please,” I begged.
He stroked my sex with greater pressure, using the tip of his tongue to relentlessly flick my clitoris. Then, just when I was so close, he moved both of his hands up and pinched my erect nipples. The most explosive orgasm ripped through my body in long waves. He untied me while keeping his mouth on my core, lapping up every last bit of my orgasm.
All too soon he brought me out of the blissful aftermath by picking me up and easing me onto his erection. The exquisite fullness ignited my body again. He walked us over to the plush rug in front of the couch and knelt. Guiding my hips with his hands, he encouraged me to move up and down. I wanted to gradually increase our ebb and flow pace, but he was not interested in the scenic route. His cock thickened as he edged closer to release. He pushed our bodies back until I was lying on the floor with him hovering over me. Having given me pure pleasure just minutes earlier, I let him take me hard and fast, allowing the moment to be about his needs. On his final thrust I clenched my muscles around him until he relaxed and collapsed beside me.
I breathed in relief, wondering what that was really all about. “Do you have a secretary?”
He turned his head and gave me a puzzled look. “I have a personal assistant.”
“Female?”
“Yes, why?”
“Just wondering if that’s how you react every time she disrupts a phone conversation of yours.”
He laughed. “First, she knows better than to interrupt me unless it’s an emergency, and second, if and when she does, she just says, ‘excuse me Mr. Cohen,’ she doesn’t wrap her mouth around my dick.”
I giggled. “Might make the work day better if she did.”
“Maybe.” He looked up at the ceiling with his hands folded on his chest.
Whoa, what was that supposed to mean?
Something was deliriously wrong with me for ever guiding the conversation in that direction. “Breakfast?” I asked, trying to focus on something other than Quinn’s assistant literally giving him lip service.
He nodded but still didn’t look at me. A few minutes later he stood in silence and headed for the bat
hroom. I heard the shower running so I slipped my panties and tank back on then decided I should get dressed too.
*
Def Leopard’s Hysteria played through the speakers while I flipped banana oat pancakes on the stove. When Quinn came out, he was clean shaven, had a wet head, and was dressed in faded jeans and a fitted white tee. He set his bag by the door. I flashed him a quick smile before turning back around to finish the pancakes. He sat on a barstool with no words yet to share. When the pancakes were done, I arranged them on our plates fanned in a circle with sliced strawberries and chopped pecans garnishing the top. Then I drizzled warm maple syrup over them. I set Quinn’s plate in front of him and poured us small glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice.
“Thank you …” he stared at his decoratively arranged breakfast “ …always the chef, huh?”
“Food should please the eyes before the palate.” I shrugged.
He took a bite. “Well, you’ve succeeded at both.”
His comment was friendly, or maybe courteous. It felt like small talk he would make with a waitress at a restaurant. Something was wrong, or off, but I wasn’t sure what. I wondered if it was the comment about his personal assistant. Thoughts of whether to say something or not quarreled. With a mental flip of a coin, I decided to just keep to the polite conversation we were having.
“Thanks, I make pancakes every Sunday morning, overindulge, skip lunch, then eat a light dinner.”
He nodded in understanding but kept his eyes on his plate while he ate his food. After he finished his juice, he grabbed his phone from the couch and walked to the door. The moment felt immensely uncomfortable. I could hardly believe an hour earlier I had been tied up and exposed on my counter. I followed him to the door, puckering my lips while I nervously chewed the inside of my cheek.
He bent down and picked up his bag. Then with his back to me he let out an exasperated breath.
“Why did you make such a big deal about a six thousand dollar a night hotel room, drag me to some grocery store to make a huge production about feeding the less fortunate when you’re the sole owner of a yacht that’s worth well over a million dollars?”
That curve ball hit me unexpectedly. I couldn’t answer or even look at him.