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My stomach clenches. My pussy squeezes in on itself. My ass twinges from the memory of how it felt to be spanked by him. I cannot seriously be turned on by his dirty talking. Oh, but I am. I am so wet. And so horny. Oh, god. My nipples tighten, a pulse flares to life between my legs.
“Do you, Raven?” He stares into my eyes, and there’s no escaping the desire in his. Or the way his chest seems to expand, and his shoulders grow bigger or— I risk lowering my gaze to his crotch and find it impressively tented. My entire body turns into one big throbbing ache.
"Don’t you want to be with someone who knows exactly how to wring orgasms from you?”
Oh, my god. He said the O word. Why did he say the O word? I squeeze my thighs together, all thoughts of hiding my body’s reaction gone from my mind. I want... relief from this gnawing, aching sensation that’s clawing between my legs.
His breath sears my cheek. His masculine scent is so strong it feels like I’m bathing in it.
"I can do that for you, Raven. I can touch and suck and lick every inch of you."
My nipples pebble. My toes curl.
"I can take charge of your orgasms. I can eat out your pussy every night and make you come over and over again until you can’t walk straight.”
My scalp tingles. My breath comes in pants.
"This will be our secret.”
I shiver.
“I can pleasure you, and take care of you, and show you how good it can be when you give in to those dark needs inside of you. Question is”—he searches my eyes— “do you want to?"
15
Quentin
Her pupils dilate, color smears her features, her neck, the creamy skin of her décolletage. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes hazy with lust.
I tighten my hold on her waist. I’m this close to throwing her down on the bathroom floor and having her right here, but that would be all wrong. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want her. Nothing could have stopped me from walking up that aisle and proposing to her. Not when everything in my body had been pulled to her. It was a visceral reaction, a connection which has only grown stronger since.
Question is, does she feel the same way?
"Do you always say what’s on your mind?" she asks, then shakes her head. "No, don’t answer that." She tugs at her hand; I let her go.
She doesn’t want to answer my earlier questions. That’s okay. I can wait until she tells me she’s ready to explore this part of our relationship further.
I reach for my T-shirt and am about to shrug it on when she nods toward it, “let me at least wash it and dry it for you first.”
I scoff, “It’s only blood and my own blood at that. Unless—” I shoot her a sly glance, “— unless the real reason you want me to keep my T-shirt off is because you want to keep admiring my abs?” I say it to get a rise out of her and she doesn’t disappoint me.
“Whatever, be macho and wear the T-shirt stained with your own blood,” she flounces off.
I allow myself a low laugh. Seeing her all riled up and shoot arrows at me with those gorgeous flashing eyes of hers is my favorite past time. I could get used to it. In fact, I very much want to be the recipient of all her emotions throughout the day. I rise to my feet. "Move in with me.”
"What?" She pauses halfway to heading out of the bathroom.
"I noticed you were packing your things."
"So?"
"Clearly, you share this place with Felix and can’t stay here." I brush past her into the bedroom, then glare meaningfully at the pile of men’s clothes folded on a chair in the corner. No way was that my son’s doing. “You do his laundry?” My jaw tightens.
She follows me in and wrings her hands. "Uh, sometimes.”
Which means she always does it for him.
I drag my fingers through my hair. I know my son hasn’t picked up after himself a day in his life. Which is my fault. I wasn’t around long enough to discipline him. I wasn’t there to help him set boundaries or help him self-regulate. I stayed away and let my aunt deal with him. And while she tried, she never managed to be strict with him. The result? Felix got away with a lot. By the time I realized what was happening, he’d already grown into a teenager. That’s when I tried to be home more often. I tried to correct his behavior but that didn’t help. In fact, it often made things worse. I stopped trying after a while, preferring to keep the peace.
