Page 13 of His Wisconsin Wallflower (Stateside Doms #25)

Chapter Twelve

Raisa’s heart pounded as Quinten’s lips met hers.

Their kiss was clumsy at first, a collision of desperation and longing until soon, they found their rhythm, inhaling at the same time, diving in for more.

His hands, warm and firm, cupped her face, guiding her deeper into the kiss.

A surge of heat rushed through her, a wave of desire she hadn’t anticipated.

“Quinten,” she whispered against his mouth. Her voice trembled with barely contained need.

He responded with a deep-throated growl, his lips moving to her neck, nibbling and sucking gently.

He slid a cold hand slid under her T-shirt, but his fingers warmed instantly as he stroked her skin, lifted her breasts, and pinched and rolled her nipples through the fabric of her bra.

She gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

She wanted to lift her hips, to guide his hand to her throbbing core where she needed him most, but then he sucked on her earlobe.

Every coherent thought left her brain. His touch was electric, igniting her senses, and all she could do was surrender to her overwhelming desire.

Raisa arched her back as Quinten’s touch sent a ripple of pleasure over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

A rush of heat coursed through her body, a tingling sensation that started in her nipple and spread outward.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps. Her heart was stampeding like racehorses on their way to the finish.

She was acutely aware of every stroke, every touch, as if her entire being was focused on the sensations he was creating.

She let out a soft moan, gripping at fabric, shoulders, his hair, her body surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure. She drew him closer, wanting more.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against her neck. She could only moan in response, lost in the sensation of his touch. The world around them faded, the frustrating news about Vanessa momentarily forgotten.

Raisa tried to straddle him, but her movement was awkward, and she bumped against the steering wheel.

Quinten’s low, throaty chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “We must look like horny teenagers.” His dark eyes twinkled with amusement.

She offered a breathless, giddy laugh. “Hmm-hmm. I think we do.” Her voice was husky and throaty and didn’t sound like her at all.

He pressed her back into her seat, his gaze intense, locking onto hers.

She could happily drown in those dark brown pools of his.

He wormed his hand under her waistband, and with that same intense eye contact, started stroking and patting her pussy.

His fingers found her clit with an almost magnetic pull.

Maintaining eye contact, he began to play with the little bundle of nerves with a precision that made her gasp.

Each touch was finetuned like she had a manual, and he had studied it, firm enough to make her moan but never crossing into pain.

His rhythm was impeccable, a slow, deliberate increase that spoke of a man who enjoyed the journey as much as the destination.

He was playing her body like a finely tuned instrument, one only he knew how to master, indulging in her responses as much as she was lost in the sensations he was creating.

The sensation was electric, a surge of pleasure that made her gasp.

The heat was building, the tension coiling tightly within her. “Quinten.” His name on her lips between her ragged breaths was a feather in the wind.

“Let go, Raisa.” His words came out on a growl. “Just feel.”

And she did. The pleasure washed over her in waves, intense and overwhelming. It was like electric dominoes falling in different directions under her skin. She was aware of nothing but how his fingers moved against her, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

A throbbing need hit her at the apex of her thighs and spread throughout her body like a wildfire. It was like a real moment in the day that was purely for her, and maybe Quinten, too. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the all-consuming euphoria.

Her body trembled as the pleasure peaked. It was like a hard candy, and she sucked on it until she reached the center with its burst of flavor. She was falling, falling into a pile of tingling ecstasy. She screamed, feeling everything and nothing at the same time.

Gradually, her breathing eased, her heart rate slowing to almost normal. She gasped and shuddered, vaguely aware of Quinten withdrawing his hand from her pants and holding her in a tight grip as she gathered her scattered emotions.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, she lay there, catching her breath, her body still tingling with the aftershocks. Quinten stroked her cheek, and she could smell herself on his fingers. It could have been embarrassing, but instead it felt... intimate.

She let herself melt against him for a few seconds longer, cheek pressed to his shoulder, his fingers still lightly stroking her back. Then, reluctantly, she shifted off his lap and slid back into the passenger seat, tugging her clothing in place as she exhaled.

She looked at him, letting a soft smile playing on her lips. “What about you?”

He let out a pained chuckle and adjusted himself behind his zipper. “I’ll survive. I’m getting used to being hard around you.” He started the car, shifted into gear, and pulled away from the curb.

Raisa couldn’t stop studying him, and her mind raced faster than Joey Logano in his Ford Mustang Dark Horse.

Quinten Carrington wants me? Bad?

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh —the girly-girl inside her was waving pompoms and doing a happy dance. Her inner critique partner was scoffing, telling her that her tits bounced harder than her pompoms. But for now, she let herself bask in the afterglow, the memory of his touch still fresh on her skin.

Quinten drove her home, the scent of her arousal filling the car like the sweetest perfume.

His mind raced with the memory of her body pressed against his, the way she had responded to his touch.

He should get a medal for ignoring his inner caveman and not doing what he wanted to do right at that moment, which involved throwing her down and sinking his cock into her wet heat until his balls touched her buttocks.

The image of her, spread out before him, her eyes clouded with desire, was almost too much to bear.

He wanted to tie her to a bed and feast on her pussy until she begged him to stop.

He wanted to edge her until that brilliant mind of hers shut down and she could only process what he was doing to her.

The thought of her losing control, of her surrendering completely to the pleasure he could give her, made his pulse race.

He wanted to have her sweet mouth around his dick, to see her cheeks hollow as she sucked him off.

He imagined her lips wrapped around him, the sight of his entire length disappearing between those plush lips until she had to fight her gag reflex.

The idea of her on her knees, looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes, was a too-appealing picture.

Fuck, he shouldn’t think like this. He might embarrass himself and come in his pants.

This wasn’t high school, but he felt like the Cinderella from the prom—his wallflower turned into a princess—was his and his alone.

The warmth of her body still lingered on his skin, and the way she had melted against him was driving him crazy.

He glanced over at her, her face flushed, her lips swollen from their kisses.

She looked like she had been thoroughly ravished, and the thought sent a fresh wave of desire through him.

He wanted to pull over, to take her right there in the car, but he couldn’t.

He had to get her home, maintain some semblance of decorum.

As a former top athlete, he had more control over his body and urges than the average man.

Nevertheless, the drive appeared to be endless, every red light a torture.

He could feel her observe him and knew she was thinking about what had happened between them only moments ago.

When he turned to face her at the next red light, the question in her eyes and the cogs in her mind turning were palpable.

Between them, the air pulsed with everything unsaid, thick with want and the ache of holding back.

When they drew up in front of her Nana’s house, he killed the engine, and the already charged silence in the car turned expectant. He faced her, his gaze intense, searching her face for any sign of what she was thinking.

“Despite the thing with Vanessa, I had a wonderful time tonight,” she whispered.

“Me, too.” His voice was rough with emotion, and he reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek and tracing the line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

“I don’t want this night to end.” The husky words were roughened with the echo of her release, and slight tremble to them dug under his skin like a hook.

Quinten’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

God, that voice. He wanted to bend her over the hood and bury himself in her until she couldn’t say another word.

But she was looking at him with wide, searching eyes, and the raw edge in her tone wasn’t just lust. It was vulnerability.

His heart raced, and his breath was trapped in his throat. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything, but he didn’t want to rush her. He didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t ready for.

“We have all the time in the world.”

The words felt heavier than they should and lodged in the back of his throat. He wanted to pull her closer, crush her against him, and erase the space between them but instead, he threaded his fingers deeper into her hair, holding on like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Every nerve in his body screamed to claim her right there, now, but somewhere beneath the ache was a quieter voice—one that told him this, whatever this was, had to last.

“We can take this one step at a time.” His libido screamed at him, but his inner gentleman nodded approval.

She sighed, leaning in to brush her lips against his in a hint of a kiss. A hum of regret escaped her. “I should go inside.”

“I’ll walk you to your door.” He opened his door and stepped out into the cool night air.