Page 78 of Quinton's Quest

“Are we in a rush?”

“I texted Mama that I was visiting a friend and might be home late. Or not at all.”

“Leaving your options open?”

“Something like that.”

I squeezed my shaft again. “I’ll prep you. On the bed. On your back. I want to be looking in your eyes when you come.”

He attempted a careless shrug. Or what I perceived to be as one. But his dark-brown eyes stayed laser-focused on me as he hopped into bed.

While I pulled down the covers, he positioned himself in the center of the mattress with a pillow behind his head. He stroked himself leisurely—as if he had all the time in the world.

My mouth watered. I crawled onto the bed and, when his thighs opened, I positioned myself between them. I snagged the lube and poured some on my fingers.

He grinned. Then grabbed his cock and balls and pulled them up.

Leaving the most exquisite sight for me. I slowly drew my fingers around his hole.

A chuckle escaped him. “I know you can do better than that.”

“I can.” I held his gaze as I slipped one finger inside.

“You know, I thought it would be all passion and ripping each other’s clothes off and shit. None of this taking time as if we aren’t in a hurry.”

“Are we?”

He cocked his head.

“In a hurry?” I eased a second finger inside him.

“I suppose not. I just—” He flailed his hand about. “I thought this was going to be hate sex or something.”

That had me pausing. “Do you hate me?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to fuck you because you’re angry at me? Or because I’m angry at you?”

He pulled his lower lip through his teeth. “Well, no.”

I scissored my fingers as I attempted to open him. Cracking the nut that was Quinton Li was proving more challenging than even I thought it might be.

When I brushed over his prostate, he moaned. “Oh yeah. That’s it.”

I grinned. “Sometimes things are really just that simple.”

“A man and his prostate. Works for me.”

A drop of precum leaked, and I bent so I could lap it up. “Yummy.”

He laughed. “Okay.” He held my gaze. “But I still want more.”

So do I—but I don’t know how to ask for it.Because I didn’t know if I wanted another night, another week, or—God forbid—something more permanent. An hour ago, he’d been tearing me a new one. Now he was atmymercy. Inmybed.

With great care, I withdrew my fingers.

He sat up, snagged the condom, opened the wrapper, and rolled it on me. He winked. “To save us time.”