Page 26

26

WARREN

Quinn is soft and perfect and mine. I want her so fucking badly, and I don’t care that I shouldn’t. That we haven’t fixed everything yet. That I still don’t know what this means for us.

She screwed up. I screwed up. Maybe her explanation for stealing isn’t enough. Maybe I’m a damned fool for letting her back in so easily. But against all reason, I get it. I accept it.

And right now, all I want to do is make up for lost time.

I’m not eighteen anymore. I’ve been with other women—enough to know that none of them were ever her. None of them felt like this. With them, it was just noise. Heat without purpose, connection without depth. I kissed them, fucked them, tried to forget the way Quinn felt in my arms. But no matter how many times I tried to move on, she never left me.

Because being with Quinn was never just about sex. It was her breath catching against my neck, her fingers curling against my skin like she was trying to mark me. It was her laughter against my chest when I said something annoying just to piss her off. It was the way I’d catch her watching me—like she knew exactly what I was thinking before I even opened my mouth.

And now? Now, I can make her feel good , really fucking good. I can make her forget every second we spent apart. I can make her remember how good we were together. How good we can still be.

I unhook her bra, slowly undress her. Then I pull her hair out of its elastic and slip it around my wrist. Dark strands tumble loose, fanning out like spilled ink, with little glints of blueish silver catching in the sunlight.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

Her skin is warm and glowing in the afternoon light, her body soft in all the places I crave. Her breasts, full and flushed, rise and fall with each unsteady breath. My gaze traces the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, the shadow between her thighs—already slick and glistening.

She’s naked, back pressed into the grass, and I’m still fully dressed. Still in control. I drag my knuckles along her ribs, watch the way her stomach quivers. She’s so soft, so fucking responsive, and I could spend hours just memorizing the shape of her.

Her fingers twist into my shirt, tugging impatiently, and I grab her wrist, pinning it to the grass beside her head.

She gasps, her body arching beneath mine. There’s a brief, instinctive struggle like she’s trying to break free. But then she goes still, breath coming fast and shallow, her chest heaving beneath me. Her nipples pebble tight in the cool air, and her eyes—dark and glassy—flicker up to meet mine.

She likes this. She wants this. The weight of me holding her down, the tension hanging heavy in the air between us.

“You want my clothes off?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she breathes, shaky but certain.

“Then ask me nicely.” I ease my thigh between her legs, press against the heat of her—hot and slick against my jeans.

She writhes, hips jerking forward. She’s desperate for more. “Please,” she gasps. “Warren, please.”

I dip my head, brush my lips along her throat, just to feel the way she shivers. “You can do better than that, Quinny,” I murmur. “Tell me what you want.”

Her breath stutters, fingers flexing where I’ve still got her pinned. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” I drag my thumb over her nipple, rolling it slowly until her breath stops. “You want me to fuck your pretty little cunt? Want me to make you come?”

“Yes,” she chokes out. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” she says, voice breaking. “Please, Warren, I need you.”

I groan—low and rough—because hearing her beg for it drives me fucking wild. I let go of her wrist, and her hands are on me instantly, fingers pushing at my shirt, fumbling at my belt.

“Easy,” I mutter, catching her wrists again, pinning them just above her head. “You always did like your games,” I say, dragging my mouth along the shell of her ear.

“You’re the one playing games.”

I grin against her skin. “And you love it.”

I let her go, finally, and strip my shirt off over my head. Quinn’s hands are everywhere—dragging down my chest, scraping against my abs, tugging at the waistband of my jeans like she’s about to tear them off herself.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I shove them down.

My cock is already hard, thick and pulsing, aching to be inside her.

I push my boxers down, too, and drag the head through her folds, coating myself in her slick. She’s so fucking wet, and my mind spins with it—with the way she’s trembling beneath me, her thighs twitching as I tease her.

“Warren,” she gasps, hips jerking.

“You want it?”

“Yes,” she chokes out. “God, yes.”

I line myself up and press just the head inside her. “That what you want?” I taunt. “Just this?”

“Don’t,” she whines. “Don’t tease me.”

“You always liked it when I made you work for it.”

I thrust forward another inch, her body clenching tight around me.

“Please,” she begs. “Just fucking take me.”

I almost break. Almost slam inside her and lose myself in the heat and the friction. But then I remember—no condom.

“Shit,” I mutter, pulling back.

“No!” Her nails dig into my arms. “I’m on the pill. Please, I don’t care—”

“I do,” I cut her off, voice tight. “I’m not risking that.”

She groans. “Then hurry the hell up.”

“Do you need me to grab your inhaler?”

She huffs and glares. “I do not need my inhaler to have sex with you.”

I raise a brow. “You sure about that?”

“Just fucking go already.”

I force myself to roll off her, drag my boxers back up, and stumble toward my car. I’m still half-hard as I fumble in the glove box, digging through receipts and loose change until I find a few condoms.

Thank God.

Then I see it—the blanket in my back seat. I grab that too, drape it over my arm, and run back to her. When I get there, she’s still on her back, flushed and breathless, her thighs pressed together like she’s trying to ease the ache.

“You good?” I ask, half teasing.

Her glare is molten. “Get the fuck over here.”

I grin, toss the blanket down, and crawl back on top of her. Then I shift us so we’re on the blanket, my knees pressing into the soft fabric as I peel my boxers down and kick them aside. My cock is already hard and heavy in my hand as I roll the condom on, fingers slipping in my rush.

Quinn watches as I settle between her thighs and slide a hand down to guide myself against her. The tip of my cock drags through her wetness, and her hips lift, desperate and greedy.

“Please,” she breathes, voice barely there.

I push in—just a little—just enough to stretch her open, to feel the wet heat of her pulse around me. Her nails scrape down my back, her legs winding around my waist.

“More,” she demands.

“You’re lucky I’ve forgiven you.”

She huffs. “You’re lucky I didn’t leave when you went to your car.”

I laugh—and then I’m kissing her once more, hard and desperate, like if I stop, I’ll lose her all over again.

“Yeah?” I rasp against her lips. “We’re both lucky, huh?”

I can’t get enough of her. Every gasp, every breathless moan. She’s so warm, so fucking tight, and when I push fully inside of her—slow and deep—her whole body clenches around me. It’s like she’s trying to hold me there forever, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold on tight.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my forehead dropping to her shoulder. “Even better than I remember.”

Her hands slide up my back, nails dragging lightly down my spine, just enough to make me shiver.

“Harder,” she whispers. “I need it.”

I give her what she wants. Drive into her harder, faster—deep enough to make her gasp, deep enough that she’s arching beneath me, clutching at my shoulders. She’s panting now, her breath ragged against my ear, and I can’t stop. Don’t want to.

The sound of her—soft, desperate, so fucking sweet—just makes me want to bury myself to the hilt. To split her open. To make her take all of me.

I shift her legs up higher, one ankle over my shoulder, and fuck her like I mean it. Until her nails are biting into my skin. Until she’s sobbing my name.

“Oh, God,” she gasps. “Don’t stop. Don’t—”

“I won’t,” I growl, thrusting harder. “I won’t. Fuck—Quinn—”

Her whole body tightens, legs squeezing tight around my waist as she shatters beneath me, her cunt pulsing and fluttering around my cock. I can barely breathe. Barely think. All I know is her—the heat of her, the way she’s falling apart in my arms. The way she’s mine again.

I spill into the condom with a strangled groan, muscles jerking as I ride out the last pulse of pleasure. But I don’t move, not yet. I stay right there, pressed against her, panting into the crook of her neck like if I let go, I’ll lose her.

Her hand comes up, fingers sliding lazily through my hair.

“Jesus,” she mutters, voice wrecked.

I chuckle against her skin. “Yeah.”

I should be done—I should be spent—but when I pull out and reach for the filled condom, I’m already half-hard again. My dick twitches in my hand, still slick from her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says breathlessly.

I grin, reaching for her. “C’mere.”

I pull her into my lap, fingers sliding between her legs, teasing her back open. “You’re still really fucking wet.”

“Yeah,” she breathes, grinding down against my fingers. “You gonna do something about it?”

“Fuck yeah.”

I reach for a fresh condom, barely able to roll it on before she’s sinking down onto me. Slow at first, teasing me the way I teased her—grinding her hips in lazy circles, rolling her body.

My fingers dig into her hips, guiding her until she’s bouncing on my cock, her tits flushed and full, her face twisted in pleasure.

“That’s it,” I growl, dragging my thumb over her clit. “Look at you.”

Her breath stutters, her body finding its rhythm. It’s slow at first, like she’s testing me, testing herself, rolling her hips in deep, deliberate circles that make my vision blur.

“Uh-huh,” I mutter, head falling back. “Just like that.”

But then she changes it up—leans forward, planting her hands against my chest as she grinds down. It’s quick and dirty and greedy. Her nails bite into my skin, her breath coming fast and ragged as she moves.

“God, Quinn,” I groan, digging my heels into the ground to thrust up and meet her. “Fucking perfect.”

She gasps, back arching as she takes me even deeper, her body tightening like a fist. I can feel it—the way her muscles start to tremble, the way her breath turns shallow and sharp.

“C’mon,” I rasp, circling her clit with my thumb again. “I know you’re close. Give it to me.”

She cries out, a choked little sound that makes my stomach tighten. Her whole body locks up, and then she’s coming, her cunt squeezing me so tight I can barely think. Her face twists in pleasure, her body shuddering as the orgasm crashes over her.

And fuck—I can’t hold back anymore.

I thrust up one last time, spilling into the condom with a groan so loud I’m sure the whole damn forest hears it. But it’s still not enough.

I lay her back on the blanket, spread her thighs, and kiss my way down her body. Then I bury my face between her legs, tongue teasing her open, licking into her like I can’t get close enough.

She’s still sensitive—still twitching and overstimulated, but she’s pushing into me, riding the edge of it like she’s chasing something more.

I suck her clit between my lips, flick my tongue fast and sharp until she’s a trembling mess. She practically sobs through it. Tells me I’m the only one who gets her like this, and then her legs shake as she comes all over my face.

“Warren,” she gasps, weak and breathless. “I can’t. I can’t—”

“You can,” I mutter against her skin, kissing the inside of her thigh. “I’m not done with you yet.”

I crawl back over her, kiss her slow and deep until she’s moaning into my mouth. Her fingers slide down between us, curling around my cock as it twitches back to life. I groan into her mouth. My hips jerk forward.

“How is that even possible?”

I nip at her bottom lip. “It’s been nearly a thousand days since I’ve had you, Quinny. I could fuck you for the rest of my life, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

She looks up at me, dark brown eyes all soft and steady, her fingers tracing slowly along my skin.

“Yeah? Then prove it.”