by Susan Stoker
“So I’m not ever allowed to buy you presents? Or buy any food?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“John, M&Ms cost like eighty cents. It’s not a big deal.”
He stared at her for a beat. “You’re not going to just give me this, are you?”
“No. Because it’s crazy. When I get married, I don’t want to have ‘my money’ and ‘my husband’s money.’ I want it to be ‘our money.’ I want to have a true partnership. If we start keeping track, and I’m only allowed to use ‘my money’ when I’m not with you, it won’t feel that way.”
Driftwood thought about what she was saying, and when her words finally sank in, warmth filled his chest. “Did you just propose?” he teased, as he returned the bill to his wallet and put it back into his pocket, conceding the point with his actions.
Quinn smiled. “If I said yes, would you accept?”
“In a heartbeat,” he said softly. “Now, go get me some M&Ms, woman.”
Looking shocked but happy, Quinn nodded and turned to head into the convenience store.
Driftwood was still smiling several minutes later when the gas pump clicked off. He put the handle back on the pump and twisted the gas cap on. Since Quinn hadn’t returned, he strolled into the store.
He wandered past the candy aisle and found Quinn standing in front of the chips.
“Hey,” he said. “Can’t make up your mind?”
She shook her head but didn’t look up.
He couldn’t figure out what was wrong until he glanced over at the counter.
Two twenty-something clerks were staring at Quinn. He had no idea if they’d said something before he’d entered, but their stares were making him uncomfortable. And if he was uneasy, he knew Quinn would be too. He bent his head to try to look into Quinn’s eyes. She was biting her lip and refused to look at him.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, he said, “Emmy?”
She moved her head away from his fingers and her hair fell back over her cheek once more.
Furious on her behalf, Driftwood turned without a word. He stopped briefly in the candy aisle and grabbed a bag of M&Ms before heading to the front counter.
“Hi,” the pretty brunette said with a smile. “Is that all for you today?”
“Actually, no, it’s not. What I’d really like is to know why you think it’s okay to stare at someone. It’s rude.”
Both women froze as if he’d pulled out a gun and shoved it in their faces.
Driftwood continued, “It’s a birthmark. A port-wine birthmark. One out of three hundred babies are born with one. It’s a vascular malformation, plain and simple.”
“Oh…um…we didn’t mean anything by it,” the black-haired clerk stuttered.
“John, it’s okay,” Quinn said softly from behind him.
He didn’t turn around.
“Here’s two bucks. That should cover the cost of my candy. You can put the change in the tip jar,” Driftwood said, wanting to say so much more. But to do so would embarrass Quinn, and he wouldn’t do that to her.
He grabbed Quinn’s hand and towed her toward the doors, barely noticing when she dropped the candy she’d been holding onto a nearby newspaper stand before they left. He didn’t speak as he opened the passenger-side door for her, or as he got into the driver’s side and started the engine.
He was still trying to get his anger under control when he heard Quinn make a weird noise next to him.
He turned to her, ready to console her, to try to make her feel better and forget the idiot women in the store—but when he saw her, he blinked in surprise.
She was doing all she could not to burst out laughing.
“Quinn?” he asked.
“Oh my God, John, did you see their faces?”
What in the world? “Um…yes?”
“They were all set to flirt with you, and then you laid into them. I thought they were going to burst into tears right then and there.”
She wasn’t upset. That was the only thing Driftwood could think.
“Shit, that was hilarious,” Quinn said absently.
“You’re not upset.” It wasn’t a question.
“I was at first,” she told him. “I stood looking at those stupid chips because I didn’t want to face them. I was embarrassed and frustrated and even a little mad that, once again, I was being stared at like I was a specimen under a microscope. But I couldn’t make my feet move. Then there you were, swooping in like an avenging angel, spreading humiliation and chastising them for being normal human beings.”
“That’s not normal,” Driftwood replied. “Being curious is fine, but not being rude like they were.”
Quinn was still giggling. “I know. But seriously…that was awesome.” Then she leaned over and lightly kissed him on the cheek before sitting back in her seat. “I swear, I wish I could have you follow me around everywhere just so you could put people in their places when they do stuff like that. That would be awesome.”
“What would you have done if I hadn’t come in?” Driftwood asked, somewhat stunned that she wasn’t more upset, not only about him butting in, but about what was said.
“Probably stood there for a minute or two more, then sucked it up and gone up to the counter. I wouldn’t have said anything, wouldn’t have just left. They probably would’ve talked about me afterward and speculated about whether my face hurt or if I bleed all over my pillow at night.”
“Is that what usually happens?”
She sobered then and nodded. “I’m used to it. I don’t like it, but sometimes it’s easier to just let it go. It’s exhausting trying to educate the world. I’m never going to get everyone to see me as normal. I’m always going to be a freak to some people. Whether because they weren’t taught that people are still people no matter what they look like or what their disability, or because of their religion, or because they’re just assholes who need to put others down to make themselves feel better. I’m trying to come to the realization that it’s their problem, not mine.”
“You’re incredible,” Driftwood said and held his hand out to her. She took it immediately, and some of the anger in his soul bled away. “I know you don’t exactly like it when I do things like that, but I can’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I mean, I’m not sure I’d like you as much if you were the kind of man who could hear something like that and just ignore it.”
That made him feel better. “I’ll do my best to keep it to a minimum. But I can’t stand it when you look sad, Emmy. I’ll always do whatever I can to keep you happy.”
“Thanks,” she said softly. Then she chuckled again.
“What now?”
She nodded to the console between them where he’d thrown the pack of M&Ms he’d bought. “Did you even notice that you picked up the dark chocolate ones?”
Looking down, Driftwood saw for the first time that the bag he’d grabbed was dark purple instead of brown. “Damn.”
Quinn giggled again. He’d never heard a more beautiful sound in his life.
Chapter Eight
Quinn sat with her legs curled up next to her and listened to John’s heartbeat under her ear. She had her head on his chest and his arm was around her, holding her tightly to him. His feet were bare and resting on the footstool in front of him. They were in the oversized armchair he had in his living room, watching an old James Bond movie.
The day had been long and eventful, but surprisingly, Quinn felt wide awake. She’d been surprised that John had been able to spout statistics of people born with port-wine birthmarks to the clerks today. She’d asked him about it while they were eating dinner and he’d admitted that he’d done some research of his own.
That made her feel good. No one had really done that before, always relying on her to tell them what they wanted to know. But John had gone out of his way to educate himself on her birthmark.
Her nervous energy wasn’t only because of that t
hough. It was from spending all day with John and knowing she didn’t have to go home. It was from remembering how he’d stood between her and Willard in the mailroom. It was from the way he’d backed down when she’d protested him giving her money to buy a simple bag of candy. It was from thinking about the looks of chagrin on the clerks’ faces when the handsome hunk took them down a peg.
It was from the feel of his hand in hers as he drove. The contentment she felt sitting close to him like she was right this moment, simply enjoying each other’s company.
In short, John Trettle was everything she’d ever dreamed about in a man. He made her laugh, was protective, and didn’t seem to have a problem admitting when he was wrong. Earlier, she’d convinced him to at least try the dark chocolate M&Ms, and even though he’d made a fuss, he had. And had been surprised to find he liked them just as much, or more, than the classic plain ones.
“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” he asked, interrupting her internal musings.
“That I haven’t given you that massage I owe you.” That hadn’t been what she’d been planning on saying, but Quinn couldn’t be upset when she looked up and saw the interest flare in his eyes.
“Where do you want me?” he asked.
Carnal images shot to her brain, but she controlled the hussy inside her and said, “You could lie on the floor right here.”
“Your wish is my command,” he said with a smirk.
She sat up, giving him room to scoot to the edge of the chair. He got down on his knees and looked back at her. “Shirt off or on?”
“Off.” The answer was immediate. She’d been trying to figure out how to get him out of his clothes since he’d entered the kitchen after his shower earlier. He smelled delicious, and the teasing glimpses she’d gotten of his chest hair peeking from the V of his polo shirt had been driving her crazy.
Without breaking eye contact, John brought one hand up to the back of his neck and pulled, ducking at the last minute to yank the material over his head.
Quinn got a glimpse of a very defined chest with a sexy smattering of blond chest hair before he turned and lay down on the carpet in front of the chair.
She’d seen his grin as he’d lowered himself, but she couldn’t even care that he was enjoying himself a little too much. Two could play at that game.
Once he was settled, Quinn kneeled on the floor and threw one leg over his thighs. She lowered herself down until she was sitting on his ass. And what a firm ass it was.
John groaned and rested his forehead on his hands under his head.
“What was that…?” Quinn asked with a smirk.
“Nothing. Carry on,” he said.
Quinn leaned over and placed her hands on his warm shoulders and began to knead. Jesus, he was one big muscle. Digging her fingers into his flesh, she lost herself in the feel of his skin under her fingers.
How long she’d massaged his shoulders and upper back, she had no idea.
It wasn’t until she moved down to his lower back and pressed with her thumbs that he groaned again and shifted under her.
“Sorry, too hard?” she asked, pausing in her ministrations.
“No, God no. Your hands are fucking magic,” he told her.
“Oh. Good.” Quinn shifted down farther, giving herself more room to caress his lower back. She was so focused on what she was doing, she didn’t even realize that her hips were moving in tandem with her hands. Up and down. Over and over.
Not able to stop herself, she leaned over and placed a kiss in the middle of John’s back. Then her tongue came out, and she licked a small path up his spine.
He shuddered beneath her—and the next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on the floor and John was hovering over her. This time, he was straddling her. She looked up in surprise and froze at the look in his eyes.
Lust.
The man was beautiful, and intense, and at that moment, Quinn thought she knew exactly how the heroines felt in the books she liked to read, being conquered by a handsome, marauding knight.
“John?”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t take any more.”
“It didn’t feel good?” she asked.
“It felt more than good. It felt fucking fantastic. So much so I almost lost it with just the touch of your hands on me. But when I felt your lips on my skin, that was it. Game over.”
Quinn couldn’t help it. Her eyes went south to his crotch. Sure enough, there was a wet spot on the front of his jeans. Holy shit. He’d come from just her hands on his back?
“I’ve dreamed about having you touch me for so long but the reality was ten times better than anything I imagined. When you kissed me, all I could think of was what your mouth would feel like on other parts. The final straw was your hot, wet tongue on me.”
Quinn smiled. She loved knowing she’d done that for him. To him.
“You like that,” he said.
“Yeah,” she agreed. Feeling braver than she’d ever felt with anyone, she ran her hands up his lightly furred chest, loving how the springy chest hairs felt on her palms. He was all man, and she didn’t think she’d ever get enough of him.
He groaned again when her fingers brushed over his nipples, making them stiffen into little points. Lifting her head, she covered one with her mouth and sucked, hard.
“Enough,” John croaked.
She felt his fingers at the hem of her blouse.
“Emmy?” he asked.
Loving that, even after he’d come and she was still teasing him, he paused to make sure she was okay with him taking off her shirt, she nodded.
Ever so slowly, John eased her T-shirt up and over her head. She felt her hair billow out above her head and realized that she hadn’t thought about her birthmark once since she’d put her hands on John.
“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, and she looked up into his face. His eyes were glued to her chest. Quinn had never thought much about her boobs. They weren’t huge or tiny. They were proportionate to her body. But John obviously approved.
His hands hovered over her bra for a second before reverently pulling the cups down, exposing her nipples to his view. The material of her bra got caught under the globes and he used his thumb and forefinger on one nipple as he leaned forward and took the other in his mouth.
The second his lips closed over the sensitive tip, Quinn arched her back and moaned. God, this felt so good. Only one other man had seen her bare breasts, and he’d done some courtesy tugging and sucking on them, but had immediately moved to what he’d called “the good stuff.”
But John’s mouth on her…holy hell…that was the good stuff. With every suck from his mouth, she felt a corresponding twinge deep in her core. She opened her legs as wide as she could with him still straddling her and felt John give her his weight. Tipping her hips up, she felt him shift until his hard cock was right where she needed it.
Neither of them said a word. They communicated with body language. When he sucked a little too hard, Quinn squeaked and he eased off. When she moaned, he increased the speed of his tongue flicking against her nipple. When he switched sides, and his fingers rolled the nipple that had just been in his mouth, she couldn’t help but spread her legs even farther apart and press upward with her hips.
As if they’d done this forever, John began to gently thrust against her in time to his sucks on her nipple. Quinn felt overwhelmed with sensation. She could feel the cool air from the AC against her naked chest, all the more chilly on the nipple still wet from his mouth. He made noises in his throat, which reverberated through his mouth, making the sensual torture of her nipple more intense.
But as much as she was enjoying his ministrations, she knew she wouldn’t be able to come from them. God, how she wished she was the kind of woman who could come from nipple play alone. But she wasn’t.
“John,” she moaned desperately.
“What do you need?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. What do y
ou need, Quinn?”
Without thought other than to ease the ache inside her, Quinn moved her hand down the front of her body. John immediately gave her room and watched as she unbuttoned the top button of her jeans with one hand, then slipped it under the waistband.
“Fuck, that’s sexy,” he murmured, then leaned down and captured her nipple with his mouth once more. He alternated between nipping at it and sucking hard. He put one hand under her ass and squeezed while the other kept up its assault on her other nipple.
Quinn knew if she thought too much about what she was doing, she’d be embarrassed, but at the moment, all she could do was feel. As she fingered her clit, she hovered on the edge of an orgasm, desperate for the release, but not knowing what else to do to get there.
The choice was taken from her as John leaned up and put his lips on her neck. He licked and sucked before moving up to nibble at her ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his warm breath wafting gently over her, making her shiver and goose bumps raise on her skin. “So perfect.”
His fingers tugged on her nipple relentlessly at the same time the others dug into the fleshy skin of her ass. “Let go, Emmy. I’ll catch you. So beautiful.” Then he took her earlobe in his mouth and sucked. Hard.
That did it.
Quinn’s legs began to shake and her eyes slammed shut. She could feel the copious wetness between her legs and used it to help stimulate her clit. The orgasm welled inside her and she put her feet flat on the floor and pushed upward. She didn’t get far, not with John’s weight on her, but the move pushed the hand inside her jeans against his hard cock, and the extra pressure, along with the thought of how he’d look right before pushing into her, was all it took.
Arching her back, Quinn came.
She started to pull her hand out of her pants, but John grabbed her wrist, holding it in there as he moved it up and down. The extra stimulation on her already swollen and sensitive clit made her orgasm more intense than she’d ever felt before.