He massaged the nub relentlessly, focusing on nothing but the circular movement of his touch. My body seemed to compress into that one spot, coiling all feeling there as if waiting for the right moment to release it and zap the sensation back out the ends of my arms and legs.
“Nectar is what attracts the bees who carry off the pollen to other flowers where they get more, but me...if I were a bee, I don’t think I’d be a good pollinator. I think I’d taste one brand of flower and like it so much I’d become addicted. I’d never want to go off to another one ever again.”
After dipping his face, he licked me, right up through the center of my petals, swiping up a mouthful of my nectar. I shrieked and clutched the blankets under me, my thighs quivering and chest heaving while the hard tips of my nipples burned for the same attention.
Lifting his face to look up at me, he groaned. “God, yes. That’s the flavor, right there. That’s what would keep me coming back for more, every time.”
Which is exactly what he did. His tongue went back for more, working faster, making his strokes longer, and applying pressure harder until I was squirming under him, grabbing handfuls of his hair, and whimpering completely incoherent words. It was so much more than I ever thought this could possibly be, and yet something seemed to be missing, like I needed—
As his tongue continued to lavish ceaselessly, his finger went lower, circled the damp rim of my sex and then pushed inside.
I cried out. The muscles inside me greedily contracted around his fingers before the tightening in my womb went crazy. I didn’t know how to control it; there was no way to control what happened next. I choked out the most embarrassing sound, and yet I didn’t care. I was freaking flying. My body went haywire in the best way possible and Quinn, the source of it, just kept feeding the explosion with his mouth and fingers.
By the time I settled down, I was limp and exhausted, yet exhilarated and at peace, satisfied in a way that boggled my mind.
Quinn took his mouth off me and slid his finger free. I whimpered from the loss, but I still felt too good to really care. When he sat up and our gazes met, he looked a little feverish, his eyes desperate and his skin slick with sweat.
Feeling as if I’d taken on all his alcohol, I offered him a drunken smile. “Whoa,” was all I could think to say.
He laughed, and his flushed face crinkled with genuine pleasure. “I wish I could take a picture of your smile right now.” He reached out to unstick a sweat-clogged piece of hair from my cheek. “I want to memorize it and carry it around with me always.”
Too blank to think up an appropriate response to his sweet words, I nodded. I wanted to thank him, pile my own heap of sweetness right back onto him, and praise him for being...him. But I’m pretty sure he’d just scrambled all rational thought right out of my head.
So what I ended up saying was, “There’s more, right?”
His blue eyes sparkled as he nodded. My gaze fell down to his cock where he was still kneeling between my spread legs. Hard, and long, and completely intimidating, it dripped with anticipation, stirring up a new arousal in me I had thought for sure he’d licked away.
Before, I’d been worried about the fit, but after his finger had been in me and I’d loved the way it had filled me—and had wanted even more filling me—I was actually eager to feel the real deal. Spreading my legs wider, I lifted my hips to him, displaying everything I had to let him know I wanted it. I had no clue where my inhibitions had gone, but with Quinn Hamilton hard and dripping before me, those things had highjacked themselves out my body and taken a vacation.
“Show me,” I said.
Again, he nodded without speaking. After spotting his crumpled jeans hanging off the side of the bed, he dug into the back pocket, pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. As he pulled out a condom, a moment of reality struck. Hard. I experienced another slap of guilt.
He’d probably bought that condom, thinking he’d use it on my roommate.
Oh, God. What was I doing? I shouldn’t be doing this. He was Cora’s. She’d had him first, and probably opened herself in this very position to him many times. I should never be allowed—
But then he tore open the package and began to sheathe himself. It was beautiful to watch. He rolled the small layer of latex down with such care, holding on to the tip as he went. Then he wrapped his fist around the base as if to insure everything was in proper place.
When he started to let go, I choked out a sound of resistance. “No. Don’t.”
He looked up, startled. “What’s wrong?”
I blushed, embarrassed by what I wanted and averted my gaze. “Nothing.”
“No, tell me. Zoey, please.”
He touched my hip and looked so worried, as if he thought I might stop everything, I had to tell him. Ducking my face, I admitted, “I...I liked watching you...touch it.”
His mouth fell open. He looked down at himself and then back up to me. Then his lips twitched. “What? Like this?”