“So, do I. Can I take you to my room?” My hands move under her shirt. She tenses for a moment, but smiles.
“I’m ticklish.”
“Good to know.”
“About your bedroom…” She pauses. This is where she tells me we’re just going to make out and I’m okay with it. Nola’s hands find the hem of her shirt. She lifts it over her head and tosses it behind her. I swallow hard at the sight of her plump breasts covered by the lace of her bra. I swallow hard as an unsteady hand reaches out to touch her. “Quinn,” she says my name quietly. “Bedroom.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I scoop her up into my arms, carry her into my bedroom, and set her down on my messy bed. “I’m sorry my bed is a mess.”
“Quinn, I don’t care. What I do care about is the amount of clothes we’re wearing.”
This side of Nola is unexpected, a bit daunting and very welcome. I’m happy to accommodate and do as she asks.
The sun beams through my bedroom window, shining its rays onto Nola. She lays there sleeping, with her hand tucked under the pillow and her blonde hair spread out. About an hour ago, I moved it away from her face, so I could stare at her. I’m probably being a creep, but after last night and earlier this morning, I think we’re past the stage where anything we do to each other could be considered disturbing.
This woman, the one who I made love to all night, the one who screamed out my name in pleasure and dug her nails into my skin, showed me what I’ve been missing. The way she responded to my touch, like her body needed mine to survive, sent me to a whole different level emotionally.
I have never felt so connected to a woman before like I feel with Nola. It’s as if we’ve known each other for years, been in each other’s lives from the beginning. I don’t want to go as far as saying she’s my soul mate, but I feel that she is. The way my heart is beating right now, I think she’s th
e only one who can tame it.
“You’re staring at me,” she mumbles.
“Your eyes are closed, you know nothing.”
She smiles. It’s soft, genuine and perfect. I lean forward to give her a kiss, but she shies away. “Morning breath.”
“I don’t care,” I tell her. I’m in hot pursuit, trying to pin her down and when I do, the urge to take her again is there. I flex my hips. “Are you sore?”
Her lower lip is nestled between her teeth. It’s her tell. She wants what I’m offering, what I’m ready to give her. I learned this after round two. I watched for signs to make sure I was giving her the pleasure she needed, that she demanded from me.
Her body gives me the answer I seek when it arches into me. Leaning over her, my hand seeks protection in my empty drawer. My face falls as I let out a groan.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“It seems to me that we’ve used my supply.”
“Oh,” she says, but doesn’t stop rubbing up against me. My hand rests on her hip, trying to make her stop, but she doesn’t.
“Nola.”
“I’m on the pill, if that’s any consolation.”
“Yes, it is, but I wouldn’t feel right.”
She holds my face between her hands and raises her hips. I’m right there. I can feel her heat surrounding me, welcoming me. “I need you, Quinn.” Her kiss is urgent. Her desire for me is coming off her in waves. I shift to her side and let my hand do the work, giving her what she needs.
“More,” she urges, gripping my shoulders and pulling me toward her. Does she see the struggle I’m going through? Can she not see how much I want to dive right into her, to feel her clamp down around me? “I’m safe. We’re protected.”
Her words split time between my heart and brain. One is saying go for it, while the other is telling me to back off and take a cold shower. I don’t know which is saying what though because my thoughts are jumbled. They’re mixed up between what’s morally right and what’s pleasurable.
Pleasure wins. Hands down. Consequences be dammed. If this is the one bad thing I do in life, I’m doing pretty good.
I’m in mid-thrust when someone says my name. I look at Nola because she sounded a lot like my mother when she said my name, except she’s looking back at me like a deer caught in headlights.
“Honey, I knocked, but you didn’t answer and the door… Quinn James!”
“Shit, Mom.” I scramble to cover Nola and myself up. “Get out of my room.”