“I did.”
“You always… I don’t know. It was hard to quantify, but there’s something about you.”
“The tattoos?”
Her cheeks flush. “It’s not. I swear I don’t have a thing for bad boys.”
“Yeah?”
“Really. I do like them. The tattoos, I mean. But it’s more than that. It’s more you. I like you.”
“Thanks.”
“God, that’s such a lame compliment, isn’t it? I like you.”
“You could do better, yeah.”
Her laugh is soft. “How about: I find you incredibly attractive.”
“Make it dirtier.”
Her cheeks flush. “You’re hot as hell.”
“And…”
“And?”
“You want to tear my clothes off?” I ask.
Her nod is shy.
“Say it out loud.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” I hold up my wine glass. “We’ll toast to it.”
“We’re going to toast to my desire to tear your clothes off?”
“Can you think of a better toast?”
Her laugh is loud. Hearty. “No, actually.” She picks up her glass and brings it to eye-level. “Westley Keating—” Her blush deepens, but she pushes through it. “I desperately want to tear your clothes off.”
Chapter Ten
Wes
My cock stirs.
It’s incredibly impatient.
It doesn’t have time for the flirting, the tease, the foreplay.
It wants her hands, her lips, her cunt.
Quinn brings her glass to her red lips. Her throat quivers as she swallows.
Fuck, her neck is beautiful.
Her lips are perfect.
Her tits—
Uh-uh. Not going there. Not yet.
“Your turn,” she says.
“For?”
“A compliment.”
“You sure you can handle that?”
She shakes her head. “Do it anyway.”
I should probably ease her into this. Say something about her dress or her hair or her smile.
My hand goes to the small of her back.
I pull her body closer. Not all the way into mine. But close enough I can feel the heat of her.
Fuck, she’s positively electric.
I can’t remember the last time I wanted someone this badly.
I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted someone this badly.
“I want to pin you to that wall, slide your panties aside, and drive my fingers into your cunt until you’re groaning my name,” I breathe.
“Fuck.” Her pupils dilate. Her cheeks flush. Her chest heaves.
“I want to throw you on my bed and bury myself in you.”
Her eyes stay wide with interest.
“I really fucking want to taste your cunt.”
Her tongue slides over her lips.
“And I will.” I release her. “But not yet.”
She stumbles as she steps backward. She’s too lost in something.
In me, I guess.
It feels good.
Like everything I want.
This is where we should be.
This is where everything makes sense.
No baggage. No pretenses. No pretending.
Just me driving her out of her fucking mind.
“I, uh… is dinner ready?” She motions to the stove.
“Should be.”
“Let’s eat then.”
Fuck, she’s adorable nervous.
I nod.
Together, we scoop everything into bowls, and bring them to the table.
She refills our glasses then scoops vegetables with her fork. “What about you? Your criteria?”
“It’s not complicated.”
“Oh?” She bites a green bean in half. Chews. Swallows.
“It’s a sense I get.”
“Of?” She leans closer. Stares into my eyes.
“How much I want to make a woman come.”
“Oh.” Her blush spreads to her chest. Her pupils dilate. Her fingers dig into the table. “That’s, um… Do… um… do you want to make me come?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Oh. Good.” She eats the other half of her green bean. “I also… I want that too.”
Fuck, she’s trying to kill me.
I swear she is.
“You… um… you’re very sexy,” she says. “How do you do that?”
“Don’t really think about it like that.”
“Still. There must be something.”
“Just practice.”
“Right.” She scoops meat and rice with her fork. “You said that.”
I nod.
“Sorry. I’m kinda nervous.”
“It’s okay.” It’s cute. Sweet. Hot. Still. I need to set her at ease. “You waited awhile to have sex.”
She nods.
“Any reason?”
“I don’t know.” She takes a bite of her dinner. Chews slowly. “I guess I never met anyone who really inspired me. I’ve had the desire. I’ve gone on dates. But I never felt like I could trust anyone enough.”
“You trust me?”
“Well… not yet. But I want to.”
That’s fair.
“What do you do?”
“Hmm?” Her fingers curl around her wine glass.
“When you want to fuck?”
Her blush deepens. “You know…” She clears her throat.
I shake my head. I don’t know. I can guess. But I want to know.
She shoots me a really look.
“Say it.”
“I masturbate.”
“How?”
Her blush spreads to her chest. “I just… do.” She swallows a sip of wine. “How do you?”
“You want a play-by-play?”
Her eyes go wide.
“‘Cause I can walk you through it step-by-step.”
“Maybe… Um… I…”
“Sometimes, I replay a past fuck. Sometimes I watch porn. Sometimes I think about someone I desperately want.”
“Have you thought about me?”
“Yeah.”
She chokes on her wine. “I… Uh…”
“I want you bad, Quinn. I’m not doing this as a favor.”
“Good.” She sets her glass down. Wipes her hands on her dress. “I want you too. A lot. I… um… I thought about you too. That’s what I normally do. Imagine stuff. I’ve watched porn, but I don’t really like it.”
My cock stirs. A beautiful mental image fills my head—Quinn spread out on my bed, her eyes glued to the TV screen, her hand between her legs, her face contorted with pleasure. “Go on…”