"Yeah, and I'm fucking terrified it's going to happen to me if I don't do something, something drastic."
Quinn smiles, stepping closer. "Well, good thing you came to Linesworth when you did. You got away from the drama of the family and came somewhere quiet, somewhere you can clear your mind and focus on what's really important. Think about what you really want."
I let out a soft groan, wrapping my arms around her. "What I really want? Damn, Quinn. I came out here lonely as hell and not an hour later, you showed up. What I really want, I think I fucking found her."
6
QUINN
He leans in and kisses me, his arms wrapped around me, his palms on my hips, holding me firm at my waist.
And I feel steady, safe, his.
Like this is right where I belong.
I've never been a shy girl. That's not why I've never had sex. I've just never been in the right place at the right time.
I've never been here.
I give into the kiss because this is the kind of kiss I have been waiting for my whole damn life. And I find myself whimpering against his mouth. Our lips part, and his tongue finds mine, and I breathe him in, and he smells like cinnamon and pine, like Christmas.
He's not from Linesworth, but I can feel in my bones that this is where he belongs.
That's not something I'm going to say during our first kiss, but I'm letting myself believe in the magic of this holiday season. I'm letting myself sink into the magic of this moment.
When our lips part and he steps back, his eyes are locked with mine. "Quinn," he says, "That kiss, that kiss was something else."
I lick my lips and I nod. "Better than a sundae?"
He laughs. "Not even close, but it gave me a taste, a tease of what's to come."
"So you're still hungry for something sweet?"
"More than hungry," he says.
"Good," I say, "but you know, I haven't had my supper yet."
"You telling me you want me to cook you dinner before I lick hot fudge off your tits?"
I laugh, covering my face with my hands, embarrassed and indulgent and incredulous and excited.
"Maybe," I say, "I mean that kiss got me all hot and bothered, but also I am a little nervous," I admit, "a little… I don't know. Nicholas, I've never had a man do anything like that to me, anything so erotic."
"Have you ever had a man undress you?" he asks. "Touch you?" He runs his fingers over my breasts. They're covered in a cotton T-shirt, but my nipples are hard and he can feel them. “Have you ever had a man slide his hands down your belly, past your panties, between your legs, cup your pussy, touch you there?" he asks, his hands moving lower, mimicking his words.
I shake my head. "Never," I whisper. "Not once."
"Oh, baby," he tells me. "You're more than a virgin. You're so innocent. You sure you want a man like me, a man you've just met, to take all your firsts?"
At this point, though, my body is on fire. His fingers between my legs are massaging my pussy, and my panties are soaked. I know he feels it. He's grinding his hand against the fabric of my jeans, and I have to step backwards, bracing myself against the counter. I close my eyes. "You're going to have to stop," I tell him, "or you're going to have to do a hell of a lot more."
He groans. "Fuck," he says, "you know I want to do more, but I want to make sure this is what you really want. You've just met me. I've just met you, and yes, I want to lick your pussy. I want to do more to it, too, but..."
I open my eyes. I run my hand through his hair, drawing him to me, pulling him close. I hop up on the counter and I wrap my legs around his waist. I see his cock is bulging in his jeans. He looks so handsome in his flannel shirt, his muscles pulling at the seams. I wrap my arm around his neck. I've never done this.
"I've never been properly kissed, and I've certainly never been fucked, not by a stranger and not by a man I've known, but I want it to be done by you. The moment I heard your voice on the phone, I had this feeling, this desire, this need. I wanted you, Nicholas."
His eyes widen. "Really?" he says. "Because, Quinn, I thought the same fucking thing. I heard your voice on the phone and I thought, damn, now that's a voice I could get used to. That's a sound I want to hear every damn day of my life."
"Stop it," I say. "You didn't."
He groans. "No, girl, I did. Now. I'm not making you dinner right now. I promised you dessert, and I'm a man of my goddamn word." He opens the fridge and he grabs the whipped cream and the jar of fudge. "It's time for that sundae." He scoops me off the counter, laughing, and carries me to the living room.