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“Ooh,” Quinn said appreciatively, pushing open the bedroom curtains and pulling up the wooden blinds. She was naked, her long red hair trailing down her slim white back, impossibly vibrant against the gray smudge of the world outside.
“Don’t open that,” I said in alarm as her fingers slid beneath the lift. “You’ll flood the house.”
Ignoring me, Quinn got down on her knees and slid it open just a fraction of an inch so that only a splatter or two got through the screen. She inhaled deeply and then looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I love rain.”
I pushed up on my elbow to watch her. “I remember.” The first time I uncomfortably realized that Quinn Collins wasn’t a little kid anymore was when she was sixteen. She was walking homefrom school in rain that wasn’t as bad as this, but wasn’t what you wanted to be walking alongside a road in. I was coming over to visit my parents when I saw her. Her red hair was plastered down her back. Her baggy band t-shirt was glued to breasts I hadn’t realized she’d developed. And when I pulled up beside her and told her to get in, she laughed and shook her head.
I love rain.
If it had been Renee or one of the others, I’d have badgered them until they got in. It wasn’t safe. But the way Quinn looked, her eyes lighter than I’d ever seen them, clothes clinging to her slim, curvy body–shelooked dangerous. At least, for a twenty-six-year-old, first-year lawyer who had just gotten engaged.
“Come here,” I said thickly, pulling myself back into the present.
Quinn heard the change in my voice. A small smirk flickered across her lips. She turned slowly and began crawling back toward the bed. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky behind her, briefly lightening the grayish twilight. She stopped at the edge of the bed and sat back, tilting her head playfully.
“Come on, Callum. You’ve got to meet me halfway.”
“Get in the damn bed, Quinn.”
“No, you get over here.”
Intrigued, I sat up and slid over to the side of the bed. She sat back just enough for me to put my legs down on either side of her, then leaned into my lap. The sensation of her soft hair on my thigh, the juxtaposition of my cock and her delicate bone structure made me even harder.
Flicking me another playful look, she began to run her tongue up and down the shaft, licking it like an ice cream cone.
“Fuck,” I muttered involuntarily, threading my fingers into her hair. I was careful not to push or pull, but I had to touch her. I reached for her breasts with my free hand, tweaking and rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger the way she liked.
Quinn moaned and pushed into my hand, then the tip of my cock disappeared between her full lips. She looked up at me as she bobbed on it, inching slowly down the length until I felt the tip against the back of her throat. I gathered her hair into a ponytail at the back of her head and tipped my own back, trying with all my might not to succumb to the pleasure. I wanted this to last. I fondled her tits until that alone might have driven me over the edge, then I fisted my free hand in the sheets.
“Fuck, I–” I swallowed the words I wanted to say and fought to find others in my fogged out brain. Nothing coherent came to mind as she continued to work my cock with her small mouth while her gorgeous gray eyes looked up at me.
Just when I thought I was going to lose it, Quinn pulled off and crawled up into my lap. With the dexterity of a gymnast, she wrapped her legs around my waist and slid onto my cock. She was holding onto my shoulders for balance, bouncing up and down, half laughing half moaning. I wrapped my arms around the small of her back to protect her and let her set the pace. My head spun as her breasts bounced against my chest, her laughter subsiding completely and becoming pants of pleasure as her climax built. I continued to hold steady, wanting her to take her pleasure from me any way she wanted. Only when I felt her orgasm ripple through her body did I tighten my grip on her and begin thrusting upward, climaxing almost instantly. It was all I could do to support her boneless body as all the strength drained out of mine.
We slid onto the floor, limbs still intertwined. My arm pillowed her head. Her leg was still hooked over my thigh. We looked at each other, spent and satisfied, but as always, wanting more.
CHAPTER 25
QUINN
Two hours before Joanne’s party, there was a break in the rain. It slowed from a deluge to a gentle patter–a very tiny green spot in the swirl of red on the storm radar. I seized on it, throwing my guitar into its hard, waterproof case and digging out a raincoat from the coat closet. It was clearly Callum’s, black and oversized, but it would keep me from getting soaked.
Downstairs, Callum and Noah were at the breakfast table working on a Lego set that looked too complicated for a six-year-old. When I came down the back staircase that led directly into the kitchen, Callum was holding the glossy, colorful manual in one hand and picking through the assortment of small, scattered pieces with the other. “Maybe they forgot to include it.”
“Which piece?” I asked, coming up behind him.
He half turned and frowned when he saw that I was clearly planning on leaving, but before he could say anything, Noah plucked the manual from his fingers.
“This one,” he said, pointing to a flat, black, L-shaped piece.
I put my hands on Callum’s shoulders and leaned over, scanning the table until I found it, half under another piece. I plucked it up and handed it to Noah, who grinned appreciatively.
Callum wasn’t so appreciative. His shoulders were tense beneath my palms. “Are you going somewhere?”
I tried to knead the muscles, but it was like trying to massage a rock. I gave up and went to find my shoes. I didn’t bring rain boots with me on my original flight, and I hadn’t bothered to pick any up since I got here, so my regular boots would have to work. “I need to get to Jimmy’s early to meet the sound engineer,” I said as I came back up the hall. “There’s a break in the rain, so I figured I’d go now and do some decorating.”
Callum stood up from the table. “I’ll drive you.”
I snorted, thinking for a second that he was kidding. But in the next minute, I realized he was patting his pocket like the car keys might already be there. “Callum, you’re not driving me ten minutes down the road to Jimmy’s.”
