Page 77 of Quinton's Quest

“Plus I go there for dinner on Wednesday nights.”

“Really?”

I met Quinton’s gaze. “Our attempt at civility—our attempt to show the kids that divorce doesn’t always mean acrimony. Even though it did for almost two years.”

“He’s forgiven you.”

“Yes.”

“Have you forgiven yourself?”

Quinton’s question caught me off-guard. “I did what was best.”

“You did.” Yet he didn’t sound convinced. “But it’s still a hell of a burden to carry.”

“It’s why I’m in counseling.”

“Well, that’s good then. All’s well.” He traced his index finger along my thumb.

A shiver ran up and down my spine. I chuckled. “Yes, I’m still interested.”

“Oh, good. I mean, kids first—”

“But since they’re not here, we might as well take advantage of that fact.” Because I never intended to do anything about any itch I might want to scratch while the kids were around.

“I like the sound of that.”

“You need anything?”

“To piss.”

“Well, you know where the bathroom is. Might as well strip—unless you have some fetish where you want me to fuck you still clothed.”

He laughed. “Hell no. Skin on skin all the way.” He sauntered off toward the bathroom.

I made a beeline to the bedroom. After retrieving the lube and condoms, I stripped as fast as I could—still careful to lay my clothes on my reading chair so they wouldn’t wrinkle. I was just pulling back the covers when Quinton appeared at the door.

He whistled.

I stilled.

He grinned. “I’ve been trying to tell myself for the past three weeks that you couldn’t be as handsome as I remembered.”

“Oh?”

“And you’re not.”

I blinked. “Well, okay then.”

“Nope. You’re goddamn even better looking. I was a little busy back in the hotel room—I wanted you too much to spend much time cataloguing your appearance. Hot? Check. Nice-size cock? Double check. Knows what to do with it? Yeah, that was all that really mattered.”

“Oh.” Again with the inarticulate statement.

“Now I get to look my fill.”

My cock strained. I grasped it and held it at the base.

Quinton chuckled. “Don’t worry—I won’t make you wait long.” He sauntered over. “Am I prepping myself?” He snagged the lube from the nightstand.