he informed her.
“How old was she then?”
He paused a moment, then said next to her left ear, “My age.”
Lucy set the photo back on the mantel. “She looks younger.”
“Yeah, she hated that.”
“Quinn?”
“Hmm.”
“I think…I don’t think…” She glanced up into his image, reflected in the mirror in front of her. “I don’t think we should have sex.”
His dark gaze stared into hers. “I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” His hands moved down her arms and came to rest on her waist. “You tell me when to stop.” Slowly, he slid his palms to her stomach and pulled her back against his chest. “Are you uncomfortable when I kiss you here?” He bent his dark head and placed his mouth on the side of her throat. She watched him brush his lips across her skin, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck tingled. She shook her head.
“That’s good. I like kissing you right here. Where your skin’s soft and your hair smells like flowers and looks like the sun.”
He hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of her skirt and slid them to her sides. The backs of his thumbs brushed her black hose.
She tilted her head to the right and he opened his hot, wet mouth and sucked her skin. The heat of his kiss spread outward, across her shoulder and down her chest. Her heart pounded and swelled, and her breasts grew heavy. She leaned back into the solid, warm comfort of his embrace and took a deep breath. The scent of him, his musky cologne and Quinn, filled her head. His gaze locked with hers as he slipped his fingers up beneath the edge of her sweater.
His heavy lids lowered to half mast, and there was no mistaking the desire burning in his eyes. No mistaking the long hard length of it pressed into her behind. He slipped his big hands beneath her sweater, and his fingers fanned across her bare stomach. She would stop him. Soon. But not when it felt so good. When everything about him, his gaze, his touch, the scent of his skin, made her want to sink back into him and stay there awhile. Her feelings for him seemed to expand beyond her control. Overpowering, like Quinn himself, and she felt as if she were in a free fall. A long, hot fall into Quinn McIntyre, and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.
His thumbs brushed the underwire of her bra, a lazy back and forth that drove her crazy before sliding up the swells of her breasts to press into her hard nipples. Her breath caught in her chest, and she knew that if she was going to stop him, she had to do it now. She opened her mouth, and he circled her nipples with his thumbs. She’d tell him in a minute. A heavy ache pooled between her thighs, and she instinctively squeezed her legs together. Her lids drifted shut as his hands slid up and cupped her breasts.
“Your nipples are hard,” he whispered into the side of her throat. “Like a woman who wants to make love.”
She looked at him in the mirror. At his gaze looking back at her with unconcealed lust burning in his eyes. He definitely looked like a man who wanted to make love, and Lucy turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands slid to her back, and her breasts smashed into his chest. She kissed him full on the mouth. He slipped the fingers of one hand beneath the waistband of her skirt and pressed his warm palm into the small of her back, holding her against his rock-hard penis. His other hand moved up her spine and the kiss got hotter, turning into a maddening chase and follow, a slick advance and retreat of hot tongues and mouths.
His fingers continued to slide up and down her spine, his touch light and feathery, making her shudder and moan deep in her throat. Lust, hot and liquid, rushed through her veins, getting all mixed up and confused with the feelings deep in her soul. The last ounce of her self-control slipped away as Quinn rubbed against her and his hands slid over her body, touching everywhere, turning up the heat and taking control. Everything got hotter and dizzier, and somehow she lost her sweater. Before she knew quite how it happened, it was on the floor by her feet. Quinn took a step back, and his hooded gaze moved from her face, down her throat and shoulders, to her breasts.
His harsh breathing lifted his chest, as if he’d just jogged ten miles. Lucy knew the feeling.
“I love a woman in lace,” he whispered and lifted a hand to touch the lace edge of her bra with the tips of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, you make me forget.”
She licked her lips and endeavored to control her breathing before she passed out. “Forget what?”
He glanced up at her, then returned his gaze to her nipples, which were making two distinct pebbles in the white cups of her bra. “That I should take it slow. That I don’t want to blow it by rushing things,” he answered even as he pressed his palms into her full breasts. “But it’s been so long.” The heat from his palms seeped through the satin material, and he pushed her breasts together as he bent forward and kissed her deep cleavage. “Why did you have to look like this?” he asked, his warm breath brushing across her flesh. “This would be easier if you weren’t so beautiful. If I didn’t want you so much that I can’t think of anything but getting you naked.”
Lucy knew that feeling, too. He lifted his face to hers once more and gave her a kiss that she felt clear to the soles of her feet. He ran his hands down her bottom to the backs of her thighs, and he lifted her. She didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around his waist. He walked with her from the room, and she thought he would carry her to his bed.
They made it as far as the darker shadows of the hall before he pinned her back against the wall. He unhooked her bra and fastened his hot, wet mouth on her breast. He drew on her nipple as his hands shoved her skirt up around her waist. He slid his palms over her thighs then over her ribs and around to the small of her back.
Lucy ran her hands through his hair while he kissed and sucked her breasts as if he couldn’t get enough. He ground his incredibly hard penis into her through the thin fabric of her hose and panties, driving her toward the edge until she knew she’d either stop or embarrass herself.
She slid her legs from around his waist and stood. He moved his mouth to the side of her neck just above her clavicle as her fingers unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails from his jeans. She slid her hands over the hard muscles of his chest, abdomen, and back. Her fingers combed through the short hair on his chest, and he whispered something against her throat. With her skirt shoved up around her waist, Quinn slid his big hand between her thighs and cupped her through her panties and hose. She thought she heard him say, “Nothing here but Lucy.” That didn’t make sense, so she figured she’d heard wrong. But there was no mistaking what he said next. No mistaking what he did, either. He pulled down her hose and panties and slid his fingers where she was slick with desire. “You want me, and I want to fuck you until you can’t walk for a week,” he said as he touched her. “Until you can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but moan. Do you want that, Lucy?”
She swayed, and her knees got weak, and all she could manage was a breathy, “Yes.” Maybe under different circumstances she might have objected to his language. The f-bomb was not her favorite word, nor was she real fond of sex talk, but at the moment she wanted what he promised. Walking was overrated. She unbuttoned his jeans and slid her hand inside the waistband and beneath the elastic of his boxers. He sucked in a deep breath.
“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered next to her ear even as he began to stroke her.
“I know. I want to do this.” Her fingers curled around the heavy length of him. He was hard and hot against her palm, and she squeezed him tight. She could feel his pulse, and she brushed her thumb up and over the plump head of his rigid erection.
“Lucy,” he forced through a heavy groan. “I’ll help you, Lucy.”
“Yes. Please.” God, he was a talker. She could deal with that. She moved her hand down the long hard length of him, feeling his velvet-soft skin that covered every ridge and bulging vein.
“Yes, touch me there, just like that,” he whispered. “You won’t be alone. Oh, God that feels good. I’ll get you help. I’ll get you all the help you need.”
He was all the help she needed. Especially when he slipped one long finger inside her and continued to stroke her with his thumb. Her whole world narrowed and centered on Quinn and the wonderful things he was doing to her with his hand. Her flesh tingled and she opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but the first scalding wave of orgasm hit her before the words left her throat. All she managed was an, “Oh no!” before the force of it knocked her head back against the wall and her knees almost buckled. She raised her hands to his shoulder to keep from falling into a hot puddle at his feet. Her heart pounded in her ears as wave after hot wave rushed through her. Over and over, it seemed to last forever and not long enough. She held onto Quinn for support as the last pulsations eased. Above the pounding in her head and the harsh breathing that filled the hall, she heard the insistent ring of the
