Page 15 of Finding Haven (Haven #2)

Zack

I don’t know why I thought for a single fucking second that exposure therapy was going to eradicate Quinn from my mind. As if seeing her more would somehow make me want her less.

When she told me that she planned on spending the day finding the perfect set of lace to wear for me, I knew I would spend the day meticulously checking my phone, waiting for any kind of message or notification from her.

What I didn’t expect was for her to send me photographic proof while she was out shopping.

I also didn’t anticipate the insane desire I had to call the boutique and make sure that whatever she chose to buy was paid for.

I don’t want her to spend her hard-earned money on me.

Besides, she’s only out shopping today because I requested that she wear something meant for my eyes only.

It was all too easy to use the photo she teased me with to track down the lingerie boutique, and the woman I spoke to on the phone was more than happy to take my credit card information to ensure that Quinn’s purchase was covered.

I had to lie and say that I was her boyfriend, but with any luck, it won’t be a lie for long.

I can only hope that Quinn will be pleasantly surprised when she finds out that I’m the man she’s been talking to on Frisk.

I don’t know how to explain the coincidence of our chance encounter at the Elysian bar and then stumbling upon her camsite shortly after.

If I wasn’t so intrigued by this woman who seems to radiate pure sunshine, I would have ended my subscription and distanced myself immediately.

But I’m being pulled into her orbit the more we speak.

There’s something about her that betrays her radiant exterior, and the demons living inside of me are clawing at my skin with the desperate desire to discover what shadows she has lurking beneath her bright surface.

Now, as time ticks by and my scheduled session with her draws near, I find myself growing increasingly agitated by the confines of my office. The comfort usually provided by the isolation is suddenly causing my skin to crawl. My suit and tie feel suffocatingly tight.

With a growl of frustration, I shove back from my desk and stand, raking my hands through my gel-slicked hair, willing my body to calm the fuck down.

I have at least another hour before I can call it a night, an hour that needs to be spent gathering as much information for Ace as I can before he moves to exterminate his target.

I don’t have time to spare on frivolous thoughts and fantasies of a woman who may never be mine.

But, fuck , my craving for her only seems to be growing, and I’m not sure how much longer I can fight it.

I don’t think I want to fight it.

By the time I’m finally able to call it a night, my skin is damn near crawling with the incessant need to see her.

It takes me a few minutes to shut all of my computers down, ensuring the firewalls and safety measures are all running as they should, before I lock up my office and head for the employee parking structure.

The short drive drags on as I hit every red light, but the tension gripping my body eases a fraction when I step inside the comfort of my home.

As desperate as I am to swipe open the app and see if Quinn might already be on, I need to wash away the grime of the day first. I spent the entire day hunched over my desk, digging through criminal files and gathering information, but the things I saw today are enough to make me feel like every inch of my body is coated in a thick layer of filth.

I’ve wrestled with my brain all day, trying to force thoughts of Quinn from my mind.

Standing in the shower with hot water pouring over me and rolling down my back, I finally allow my mind to indulge.

I can’t wait to see what she picked out for me.

The woman at the boutique offered to send over a digital receipt of Quinn’s purchase, but I declined.

I don’t care how much of my money she spent, and I want to be surprised by whatever she chose.

Stepping out of the shower, I dry off my body and wrap the towel around my waist, my cock already straining with anticipation.

I make quick work of brushing my teeth, shaving away the five o’clock shadow of stubble, and running a comb through my hair in an effort to control the soft curls springing to life in the humidity of the bathroom.

Our agreed upon time for the private session is quickly approaching, and I spend the last few minutes throwing on a pair of boxer briefs and gray jogger pants before sliding into bed with my phone.

A thin layer of cold sweat begins to coat my palms and bead along the base of my spine as I swipe open the app, pressing the button for my inbox.

My chat window with SugarQueen appears, and my fingers drum against the side of my phone while I contemplate what to say.

My heart’s thundering my chest, each beat more powerful than the last.

I don’t want her to feel like I’m pushing her to do this with me if she isn’t ready, but I won’t lie and say I don’t want it. That I don’t need it. Especially after last time. I won’t ever be upset with her for something she has no control over, but tonight I’m fucking desperate for the release.

Good evening, Sugar.

She responds seconds later. It makes me wonder if she has been looking forward to this as much as I have. But considering I’m paying for her time, she probably has, though not for the same reasons.

SugarQueen:

Hey there, Z. Are you ready for me?

Am I ready for her?

I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for anything or anyone in my entire life. It’s been so long since I’ve found any kind of connection with someone

When you are, Sugar.

Her mask-covered face fills my screen a moment later.

My breath catches in my throat, and my lungs seize while I try to remember how to make them fill with air.

Her lace mask is a dark shade of pink, and I would be willing to bet it’s the same color as whatever lingerie she has chosen for my viewing pleasure.

I told her to pick something she would enjoy wearing as much as she would enjoy having me rip it from her body, and my cock is throbbing with the need to see all of her.

“Are you gonna be shy, Z? Or are you gonna let me see you?” Her voice is a low, teasing seduction that filters from my phone’s speaker.

The sound has me fighting back a groan as I reach down and palm my erection through my pants.

I have every intention of letting her see me.

It’s part of why I bothered to shower first. She deserves every ounce of respect I can give her, even if it means merely making myself presentable for her.

The irony that I got cleaned up to get dirty with her isn’t lost on me.

I shove another pillow behind my back, shifting my position until I’m lounging back comfortably. Tapping the video icon, I bend a leg and plant my foot on the mattress, resting my arm on my knee. I keep the camera angled downward, my body only visible from the chest down.

“That’s a little better,” she says. Her breathy tone has my grip on my phone tightening, my other hand resting on my chest. My heart is hammering so forcefully in my chest that I can feel the erratic rhythm like a steady vibration against the palm of my hand.

“But this would be much easier if I could hear your voice.”

I watch my own chest rise and fall with deep breaths on the screen. She has a point, talking would be easier. Especially given the direction I hope this conversation will take. But she has heard my voice on several occasions now, both in person and through this app.

How much longer will I be able to hide who I am from her?

How much longer do I want to hide from her?

My exposure therapy idea has already proven to be complete bullshit. The more I see her and the more I talk to her, the more I want to demolish the walls that have been built around my heart. Walls that may have already begun to crack.

“There’s no reason to be nervous.” Quinn’s lust-filled words halt my wandering thoughts as she scoots back on her bed.

I groan out a harsh “fuuuck” when her body comes into view.

Her top is a dark pink lace with boning that dips into a V, pulling my gaze down over the gentle swell of her stomach and towards the lace keeping her pussy hidden from view.

The sight of her has my dick growing impossibly hard.

I want to turn on the mic, but I also want her to keep talking to me like this.

She’s on her knees in the middle of her bed with warm light coming from one side, casting soft shadows over her curves. “You know, Z. I’m gonna need your consent if you want me to show you anything.” She drags her hands up her thighs, along the length of her body, and then back down.

It’s official. The sight of her turns me on, but my dick would harden from her voice alone.

She spreads her legs, her hands resting on her upper thighs. “Are you sure you don’t wanna let me hear you?”

I release a deep groan and tap the microphone icon in the corner of our chat window. “Hey, Sugar,” I rasp.

Quinn swipes her tongue across her lower lip before tugging it gently between her teeth. “God, I love your voice,” she softly moans, the tips of her fingers pressing into her thick thighs as she squeezes them, her hips shifting from side to side ever so slightly.

“Show me,” I growl, unable to fight the gravel coating my throat.

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” Her stormy blue eyes sparkle with mischief behind the mask as she runs her hands up her torso, grasping her full breasts through the confines of the pink lace.

“Please, Sugar. Let me see your body.” The words spill from my lips with a guttural groan.

Even as I beg to see more of her, there’s a frozen ache in my chest screaming for me to stop, to shut this down and get away before one of us gets hurt.

I can’t fathom the thought of hurting Quinn in any way, but the idea of opening myself up to forming a real connection, allowing emotion and feelings for her to develop, has fear coiling like a serpent in the pit of my stomach.

She hums softly. “Not yet.” Her fingertips tease along the lace at her hips, one hand slipping down between her thighs to rub her cunt over the delicate fabric.

“I would think that after going through the trouble of tracking me down and paying for what I'm wearing,” she says with her eyes locked on the camera, warming my skin as her gaze burns into me, “you would want to enjoy it a little longer.”

My heart lurches into my throat, making it damn near impossible to breathe as her words sink in.

She knows I’m the one who called the boutique and paid for her lingerie.

She knows I told the boutique employee that I’m her boyfriend.

Nothing about her current body language indicates that she disapproves of my actions.

If anything, I would say she’s turned on by it.

Is it possible she likes that I stepped in and took some control over the situation?

I clear my throat, contemplating what I can say to ease her mind. I don’t want her to think I have no respect for her privacy.

“I’ll admit”—she pulls her hand away from where it was between her legs, trailing it up her body until her fingers comb the length of her honey-blonde hair—“it caught me off-guard. But as soon as she said my boyfriend had called the shop to pay for my lingerie, I knew.”

Her eyes flick down, giving me a moment to force air through my lungs before her heated stare once again meets the camera lens, weighing me down and pinning me in place.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Z. Tell me it wasn’t you. ”

“Don’t ask me to lie to you, Sugar.” I may not be a good man, but knowing I’m at least an honest one helps chase away the shadows contaminating my heart and soul. I have never lied to anyone I’ve cared about, and I refuse to lie to Quinn.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, fighting back the smile threatening to make an appearance.

“You’ve already spent so much money on me, Z.

I think you’ve earned this.” She reaches both arms around to her back, and I watch with bated breath as the pink lace top falls to the bed, revealing her full breasts and peaked nipples.

A groan emanates from my chest as my cock pulses, pre-cum leaking from the tip as she runs her hands along the underside of her breasts. Using her index finger and thumb, she pinches and pulls at her nipples, turning them a rosy shade as her head drops back and a moan slips from her lips.

Fucking hell.

All pretenses of respect fly completely out the window as I slip my hand beneath the waistband of my briefs and wrap my fist around my dick.

Stroking with a leisurely pace, I gather the pre-cum pooled at the tip and slick it down my shaft, using it as lube as I watch Quinn explore her own body for my viewing pleasure.

“You’re so damn gorgeous, Sugar,” I choke out, fighting back another groan as she lifts her head and runs her hands down to her lace panties, her thumbs teasing along the delicate fabric at her hips. “Are you gonna show me that pussy, baby?”

“That depends. What are you going to show me in return?” Her lust-thickened voice is like a blazing inferno over my skin, and the heat has my grip tightening around my cock .

“Anything you want,” I tell her honestly because I know for a fucking fact that I would show her—give her—whatever she wants, now and forever.

Damn, I’m fucked.