Drive Me Crazy

CHAPTER Eleven


Elise was on fire, and had been from the moment she’d heard Quinn playing the piano. The sounds he drew from the instrument, the way his long fingers caressed the keys, the way his body tensed and flowed with beats of the music turned her on like few things ever had.

And now that he was holding her, now that he’d positioned her body around his and she could feel him—hot, hard, throbbing—between her thighs, it was all she could do not to beg. To plead. It had been so long since she’d felt like this. So long since she’d trusted a man to get this close to her.

“I want you, Elise.” Quinn’s voice was low and gravelly and sexy, so sexy. “I know I shouldn’t. I know that you’re injured and vulnerable and the last thing I should be doing right now is pressuring you—”

She leaned forward and cut him off with her lips. He was making sense, being kind and considerate and all of the things a man should be and frankly, she didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear any of it. All she wanted was to relish the feel of him against her, to savor what it meant to be wanted, desired, needed.

For long seconds, Quinn didn’t move. And then, as if in a trance, he skimmed his hands over her arms, across her shoulders, down to her collarbones and then up her neck to her chin. He cupped her jaw in his long musician’s fingers, stroked his thumbs gently over her cheeks.

Elise gasped a little, whimpered deep in her throat at the feel of his hands on her. They felt so good. He felt so good.

Quinn tensed at the sound, his fingers going rigid against her face. And then, suddenly, it was like a rope snapped and Quinn’s restraint with it.

His hips thrust up against her at the same time his mouth slammed against hers with bruising force, his lips and teeth and tongue devouring her in a cacophony of wild need. His tongue stroked over her lips, probed at the corners of her mouth before licking along the curve of her bottom lip again and again. She moaned at the soft warmth of it, the sweet, sexy feel of him sliding along the tender flesh of her mouth.

“I want you,” he murmured again, wrenching his mouth from hers. He skimmed his lips across her jaw to the sensitive spot behind her ear where he pressed one soft kiss after another. “I need you.”

Her head was spinning, her body on fire from the feel of him everywhere—his calloused hands holding her face, his hot, sculpted chest pressed against her breasts, his lean, hot thighs pushing against her own. She didn’t know why he was talking, didn’t know how he was talking when she could barely think let alone formulate words.


She wanted him to take her, right here, right now, to spread her open and f*ck her while the music still thrummed through her veins. Tomorrow could take care of itself.

But this was Quinn. Sexy, beautiful, teasing Quinn, who looked like danger and sounded like sex, but who was secretly a gentleman underneath it all. And when he refused to do more then press soft kisses against the curve of her neck, she knew that she was going to have to gather enough brain cells to reassure him. Because Quinn would never take anything she didn’t want to give willingly.

Sliding her hands up his back to tangle in his gorgeous, glorious hair, she tilted her head back to give him better access. And murmured, “I need you, too, Quinn.”

She thought it would be all the reassurance he needed, but instead of ripping her clothes off like she wanted him to, he pulled back a little, his midnight eyes searching hers in the soft light of the music room.

“Are you sure?” he demanded.

“Yes.” She tugged on his hair, tried to pull his mouth back down to hers. It had been a long time since she’d been held like this, longer still since her body had reacted like this.

Since Quinn, she realized with a jolt. She hadn’t felt this hot, this turned on, since the last time—the only time—Quinn had made love to her. It was a shocking revelation, one that shook her to her core.

The shock must have been reflected on her face, because Quinn suddenly looked a lot more concerned. “What’s wrong, Elise? Do you want to stop?”

His hands went to her waist, and he pulled up on her, as if he was going to put her away from him. But that was the last thing she wanted, to lose this chance to be with Quinn when it might be the only one she’d ever have. Or at least the only one for another ten years, if their past history was anything to go by.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer and pressed frenzied kisses over his hot cheeks and down his stubbled jaw. “No, don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.”

She was frantic at the thought of losing this small part of him that he was willing to give her and she started pushing at his shirt, tugging at it, in an effort to get closer to him. In an effort to convince him that she wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything.

Quinn’s hands slid around to her back, rubbed soothing circles on her shoulders as he tried to gentle her. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

But she was beyond gentling, beyond comforting. Her need for him was a wild thing within her and all she could think was more. Now. Please, God, now.

“Quinn,” she gasped, her hips rocking against his in a frenzied rhythm even as she scraped her nails down his back. “Please, Quinn. Please. I need—”

…

Elise’s voice broke and with it, so did his restraint. He’d been trying to be gentle, to be considerate, to make sure she knew what she was getting into. But the moment he heard her voice crack, the moment her nails dug into the muscles of his back, Quinn was a goner.

Twisting his hands in her own hair, he pulled her face back to his. Then he kissed her until he was drowning in her.

Until she was all he could feel or smell or taste.

Until he couldn’t tell where she left off and he began.

Until he was sure she felt the same way.

He wanted her on fire, wanted her burning with the same desire that threatened to burn him alive. He wanted to forget the past and the future, wanted to forget all the mistakes he’d made and all the reasons this could never work between them. He wanted to come inside her with an ache that bordered on obsession, wanted to feel her orgasm against his mouth, his fingers, his cock, until she had nothing left to give him. And then he wanted to take her all over again.

He’d been hungry for her for ten long years and tonight he was going to make up for every second that he’d missed.

He wanted to pull back, to take it slower, to show her how much he wanted her, how beautiful and precious and important he thought she was, but Elise was having none of it. Her hands fisted in his hair, her fingers dug into his scalp and a sharp, shaken cry ripped from her throat.

That cry tore through his control like a freight train, had him fighting back urges so primitive he could barely think, could barely breathe. With a groan, he nipped at her upper lip, before sucking her lower lip between his teeth and biting down on her honeyed softness.

Elise moaned, a wicked, wild sound that shot straight to his dick. Taking advantage of her open lips, he delved deep—taking her mouth the way he was dying to take her body. Licking, sucking, savoring the gorgeous taste of her. The sexy honey and strawberry scent of her. The sweet, musical sound of her gasps as she clutched at him in a desperate attempt to pull him closer.

When he couldn’t take any more, when the need to thrust his tongue inside of her and hear her scream was nearly overwhelming, Quinn pulled away. She moaned and whimpered, fought to keep him where he was. But it wasn’t enough. Not for her and definitely not for him. He wanted to give her more. Wanted to give her everything.

“Lissy, sweetheart, I want more of you.” He shifted just enough so that he could pull her tank top over her head, making sure not to catch her injured arm in the tangle of fabric.

Her bra was pale pink silk, and for a second he just looked at her. She was so beautiful kneeling there, chest heaving and nipples peaked and hard beneath the soft fabric. He leaned forward and pressed a hot kiss to first one nipple and then the other, his tongue laving at the hard buds through the thin fabric.

She whimpered again, her back arching in a desperate plea for more. He lifted his head, looked at his handiwork. And nearly lost it right there in his jeans. She looked obscene like this, half-undressed, hair wild around her face, wet marks on her bra that had the silk clinging to her nipples.

Quinn groaned, clenched his fists against the need ripping through him. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just stay like this forever, Elise in his lap and her gorgeous body on partial display in front of him.

But his dick had other plans, and, in the end, so did he. He wanted to see her, to find out if her nipples were still the same dark raspberry color he remembered. So he moved a hand to the back clasp of her bra and unfastened it before pulling it off and tossing it over his shoulder.

She was beautiful. Absolutely exquisite, and for long seconds he could do nothing but stare at her soft, ivory skin, her small, round breasts, her hard, raspberry colored nipples.

Elise let him look, but he could hear her ragged breathing, could feel the way she rocked her hips against his own. She wanted more, needed more, and he wanted to give it to her.

Lowering his head, he ran his tongue over first one nipple and then the other. He teased them, pinched them, licked them, nipped at them, sucked them, until she was all but sobbing his name. And still it wasn’t enough. For either of them.

…

Elise’s heart was beating so fast and hard that she was afraid it would jump right out of her chest. “Quinn, please,” she whispered as she ran her hands over the burning hot skin of his chest. He was making her crazy, bringing her right to the brink of madness—again and again and again—with nothing more than his mouth on her breasts.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses over the curve of her breast. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need—” Her voice broke. “I need you.”

He grinned, a wicked twist of his lips that somehow made him look even hotter. “You’ve got me, baby. I’m right here.”

He went back to her breasts, kissing and licking and nibbling at them until she thought she would go insane. She was hot, needy, aching inside with a desperation she had never felt before. A desperation she never would have imagined existed before this moment.

“I want—”

“What?” Quinn asked, lifting her off of him. “What do you want?”

She whimpered at the loss of sensation—at the loss of him—and he stroked her back reassuringly even as he stood her on her feet.

She was so turned on that her legs felt weak, her knees like jelly, and she would have fallen if Quinn hadn’t been there to hold her up. But he was there, one arm wrapped around her waist while the other pulled her yoga pants and underwear slowly down her legs.

He was watching her, his eyes dark and focused on her own as he stripped her. Almost as if he was waiting for her to protest. But stopping him was the last thing on her mind, not now when she was so close to having him inside of her.

When she was naked, he settled her onto the piano bench, legs spread wide and back resting against the grand piano. Then he sank to his knees in front of her, his broad shoulders pushing her legs open just a fraction more.

Elise froze at the feel of him between her legs, at the knowledge that she was completely exposed to him, completely vulnerable. This wasn’t the first time she’d had sex since Quinn had walked away from her, but it was the first time she’d let herself be this open. The first time she’d given this much of herself to a man. And even though there was a voice in the back of her head telling her to stop, warning her that Quinn would hurt her again, she was helpless to do anything but let him have his way.

She didn’t say a word, but somehow Quinn knew, because he watched her patiently, waiting until she worked up the nerve to look him in the eye. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse with restraint and need.


That was all it took to bring her back, to have desire tearing through her all over again. The knowledge that he was as affected by what they were doing as she was. He might be a rock star, with a different woman in his bed every night, but tonight he was hers. Tonight he wanted her, not some nameless groupie.

It was more than enough.

“Yes,” she told him, forcing the word out of her dry throat as she stroked a hand down his cheek.

Quinn smiled at her, a quick, brilliant grin that lit up his whole face and had her reeling. Then he was leaning forward, his tongue lapping gently at her stomach. Stroking her side. Circling her belly button. Slipping lower and lower until he was licking at the top of her mons and she thought surely, surely, he would take her in his mouth.

But just when she thought he would thrust his tongue inside her, just when she thought she was moments from coming, he paused and looked at her with those eyes—those dark, mysterious, magic eyes—and whispered, “Tell me, Elise. Tell me how you like it. Soft and sweet?”

His tongue made one long, lingering foray along the edges of her sex.

“Or hot and hard?” He spiked his tongue, ran it in circles around her *.

“Slow and deep?” He slipped his hands beneath her hips, tilted her up to his mouth then licked straight down the center of her sex before stabbing his tongue deep inside her.

Elise screamed at the feel of his tongue inside her, moved restlessly against him as she arched, trying to press her hips even closer to his mouth.

“Is that what you like, sweetheart?” Quinn asked, his breath hot and fast against her. “You want my tongue inside you?”

“Yes. Please. Oh, please.” The words slipped out before she had a clue she was going to say them. But she was too far gone to be embarrassed by her eagerness, too desperate for the feel of him to think about anything but the orgasm she could feel gathering deep inside of herself.

Quinn laughed a little, a warm, dark chuckle that sent shivers up her spine. Then he was back, thrusting his tongue inside her, stroking the walls of her vagina with strong, powerful motions that had her eyes all but rolling back in her head. Again and again he licked and stroked and sucked as the need spiraled within her.

But just when she was on the brink of coming—when orgasm called to her like salvation—he pulled away. Left her hanging on the edge without a safety net, every nerve in her body screaming for a relief he refused to give her.

“Quinn! Oh, God, Quinn. I need—” The words were a jumbled mess, hoarse and trembly, but he must have understood because once again he began to lick at her. But this time, it was all slow swirls of his tongue, soft brushes of his lips.

It felt good, so good, and Elise nearly came off the bench in her effort to get closer to him. But he wouldn’t let her take control, wouldn’t let her do anything but sit there and take what he gave her as his big, warm hand pressed against her stomach. Pressed her back into the bench.

As he fluttered his tongue over the lips of her sex, over her *, a whole new range of sensations began spinning through her. Elise gasped, her fingers clutching at Quinn, the only solid thing in the maelstrom of sensation and emotion ripping through her.

Once again, he took her right to the edge. Once again, he stopped moments before she went crashing over. Grabbing his hair in her hands, so far gone that she barely noticed the twinge in her broken wrist, she tugged sharply then reveled in the groan he couldn’t suppress. “Damn you, do it,” she demanded as her hips rose and fell against his mouth.

She felt, more than saw, his smile. “Do what?” he asked before pushing his tongue back inside her.

“You know what!” It was a plea.

“I’m not sure I do,” he answered with a teasing flick of his tongue. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Quinn, come on!”

“Elise, come on.” He mimicked her in between soft, sweet swipes of his tongue.

The pleasure was building, taking her higher, but still he didn’t let her come. Finally, when she couldn’t take any more, when the pleasure was so intense it was almost pain, she pleaded, “Make me come. Please, Quinn. I have to come.”

He groaned low in his throat, his hands clenching on her hips. Then, with one wicked swirl of his tongue on her *, he sent her careening into orgasm. A few more flicks and the quick slide of his fingers inside her had her spiraling up and over again.

And still he wasn’t done.

Sitting up for just a moment, he draped her legs over his shoulders, using his hands to spread her thighs even wider. And then he looked at her, just looked at her, for long seconds.

“Quinn, what are you—”

“Shh.” He leaned forward and pressed a long, lingering kiss against her sex. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

She laughed, but it came out as more of a sob. “I thought you already did.”

She felt more than saw him smile. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years. Believe me when I say, I’m just getting started.”

Then he lowered his head and whispered something dark and obscene against the very heart of her. Before she could even assimilate what he’d said, he pulled her * into his mouth and began to suck.

She came like a shattering crescendo, her body spiraling up and over the edge so quickly that she hadn’t even seen it coming. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but feel as she waited for whatever he was going to do next.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, taking her over. Frightening her with its intensity. She’d spent so much of her life not feeling anything that feeling all this, at once, was completely overwhelming, as overwhelming as Quinn himself. The pleasure was so real, so raw, so all encompassing that she couldn’t help being a little scared of it, certain it was going to take over every part of her.

For long moments, she struggled to regain control. But Quinn would have no part of it, no part of anything that gave her even a chance to breathe. Instead, he swirled his tongue around her *, again and again until she bucked against his mouth in an effort to get closer, to get away. But he wouldn’t let her. He held her in place with his strong musician’s hands, and took her over completely.

Need built in her again, sharp and all consuming, and she didn’t know what to do. She was going to lose her mind, her control, maybe even her heart right here and now and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He was taking her and in doing so was knocking down every wall she’d spent so long building between herself and the world.

The thought terrified her and for the first time she pushed at him, tried to squirm away. “Quinn, stop. I can’t—”

“You can.” His voice, that magic, melodic voice, was lower, harsher than she had ever heard it. And when she glanced into his eyes, she was trapped by the flames flickering there, building to a towering inferno that threatened to consume every part of her.

His tongue—his wicked, wonderful, wild tongue—went from quick swirls to long, luxurious licks that had her hurtling, inconceivably, toward another orgasm. Ecstasy trembled along nerve endings that hadn’t recovered from the last climb as he used his teeth, his tongue, his lips on her.

“Look at me,” he demanded and her eyes flew open. Met his obsidian ones, and what she saw there ripped through the defenses she’d spent so many years building. This wasn’t just sex for Quinn, wasn’t just a quick romp with an old girlfriend. He was taking her, claiming her, demanding more from her than she’d ever wanted to give and as he did, ensuring that she’d never be able to forget him.

A high, keening sound came from within her at the thought, filling the room and making Quinn’s entire body tense. Slipping a hand between her thighs, he thrust first one finger and then another inside of her. He found her sweet spot and stroked—once, twice—before pulling out to spread her wetness over and around her anus. Again and again he pressed against her and she whimpered, nearly out of her mind with the need for more. Always more.

Just when she was certain he wasn’t going to do it, when she was certain she would lose her mind, Quinn slipped one long, calloused finger inside her and started to stroke. Another orgasm whipped through her and he thrust his tongue inside her, groaning at the feel of her inner muscles fluttering around him.

She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, couldn’t function, and still he f*cked her with his mouth, with his fingers, with his tongue. Sucking, licking, thrusting his tongue deep inside her until one orgasm blended into another. And another. The more pleasure she took, the more pleasure he was determined to give her until she couldn’t do anything but take it. Take him.

“Quinn, no,” she finally gasped. He had to stop. He had to. She couldn’t survive another—

He laughed, a dark, rich sound that burned through her blood. Then he thrust his tongue inside her and hurtled her, just that easily, into yet another climax.

“I’ll never get enough of tasting you,” he growled in between long swipes of his tongue. “I’ll never get enough of watching you unravel in my arms. I could go down on you all night.”

“Please, I can’t—”

“You can.” Once again, he slid his tongue between her slick folds and licked her to madness. Once again, he thrust his fingers inside of her sex, her anus, and stroked her to insanity. And once again he sent her flying into climax, stars exploding in front of her unseeing eyes as she whimpered and sobbed and pleaded with him to take her.


Finally, finally, when she was on the brink of losing herself, he lifted her legs from his shoulders and placed them gently on the piano bench. Then he pushed to his feet and looked down at her lying there, so worn out that she was resting bonelessly against the piano.

“I can’t take any more,” she told him hoarsely, licking her lips in a desperate attempt to quench her thirst. “You have to do it.”

“Do what?” he asked, cupping her chin in one large hand so that she had no chance of looking anywhere but at him.

“F*ck me, please. You have to f*ck me.”

…

Elise’s shattered plea broke over him like a summer storm and Quinn nearly trembled in relief. Part of him had wanted nothing more than to stay kneeling between her legs all night, bringing her off again and again and again, until she couldn’t remember the sorrow of losing Ellington, the pain of losing her career, the fear he knew she had deep down of losing herself.

But then she’d asked him to take her, to f*ck her, and he’d never been able to say no to Elise. Even in the old days when he’d spent so much of his time messing with her for the sheer pleasure of watching her lose her temper, he’d never been able to deny her anything. Tonight was no different.

Especially as he stood here looking down at her body, all flushed and gorgeous and needy. Sometime in the last hour she’d gone from leaning against the piano to lying over it and he could honestly say he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life than Elise spread out over his Bosendorfer.

Her back was arched over the keys and action frame of the piano so that her breasts were thrust upward like they were just waiting for his mouth while her head was resting on the lid of the piano, her long, dark hair fanned out across its surface.

Reaching out, he rubbed a finger across her lower lip, just for the sheer pleasure of touching her. Of seeing her lips part and her eyes flutter closed. Then, because he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her, he slid his finger over her chin, down the slender column of her neck, over her breastbone and down the center line of her body until the tip was pressed right up against her * again.

Elise moaned even as she pressed her hips up to meet his touch. He loved that, loved how responsive she was. Loved how she let him touch her anywhere and everywhere.

The thought overwhelmed him and the tight rein he’d been keeping on himself broke. With a desperate groan, he ripped at his jeans, shoving them down his thighs and onto the floor. He paused only long enough to yank a condom out of his wallet and put it on before he was on her, slamming himself up and into her, burying himself balls deep with his very first thrust.

The piano keys groaned discordantly, but he barely heard them as Elise clamped around him like a greedy fist. She was slick and wet and burning hot, and for a moment he was truly convinced he would lose it before he could make her come one last time.

Gritting his teeth against the sensations gathering at the base of his spine, Quinn worked to hold onto the razed edges of his control. Then Elise whimpered—her hands yanking at his hair, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, her p-ssy pulling at his cock—and he knew he’d reached the end of his patience.

He rode her hard, his hands braced on the piano as he kept his gaze on hers. He’d spent ten years thinking about the one and only time he’d made love to her, and though he didn’t regret leaving—how could he when he’d done it to keep her safe—he was going to savor every second of having her back in his arms again. Of having her beneath him, her hips moving restlessly against his as he thrust inside of her.

Over and over he pressed into her satin heat until the fire between them threatened to consume him. Flames of pleasure flashed through him, burning him up with the intensity of the emotions and the sensations that had taken over his body. He needed the release, needed the sanity that would come with emptying himself inside of Elise. But there was a part of him that wanted to keep making love to her, that wanted to stay like this forever, connected to her by his body and by the overwhelming pleasure that burned between them.

Sweat beaded on his chest, rolled down his back, but still he refused to stop. He thrust into her over and over again, trying to get as close to and as deep in her as he could. Trying to get inside more than her body. Trying to wipe out the specter of the past and all the shit that had gone down between them a decade before.

His arms trembled under the onslaught, his cock screamed for relief and still he continued to move inside her.

Elise was sobbing, pleading, her muscles contracting more and more tightly around him with every slam of his hips. Her nails dug into his back, her teeth into his shoulder, and still he kept at her. Her legs circled his hips, her hands clutched at his back and he knew that he couldn’t hold on any longer. She felt too good, too real, too perfect.

He was buried deep, as close to her as he could get, when he felt the orgasm rip through her, a deep, dark wave of sensation so powerful that it swamped him, buried him, dragged him under before he could find the will to resist. His own orgasm welled up within him, the sweet clutch of her body sending him right over the edge and beyond, to a place where nothing existed but the pleasure and the pain of being with Elise again.

It started at the base of his spine and spread out from there, through his dick, his stomach, up his back, around to his chest. Ecstasy, agony, aching desire roaring through him, flowing from him to her and back again as he emptied himself inside her in a series of powerful, all-encompassing waves.

Elise wrapped herself around him—her arms, her legs, herself—and for the first time in ten long years, Quinn let himself go. And for now, for this one perfect moment in time, it was enough.