Not untouched, any longer, but defo still a virgin. . . . Seemed like there were two people in the world he couldn't have sex with. The trend continued and he was going to end up celibate.
As he sat up, his head pounded, proof positive that Herradura was an opponent of worth.
Rubbing his face, he thought back to kissing the Chosen. He'd taught her how to do it properly, how to suck and stroke, how to open the way for someone's tongue, how to penetrate a mouth when she wanted to. Female learned fast.
And yet it hadn't been hard to keep things from getting out of hand.
What had killed the urge to seal the deal was the way she stared at him. When he'd started down the Lewis- and-Clark highway with this sex- ploration shit, he'd assumed she was just looking for the practical course after all her textbook training. But on her side, there had quickly been more to it than that. Her eyes had started to get stars in them, like he was the key to the door that kept her locked in herself, like he alone held the power to spring her dead bolt and set her free.
Like he was her future.
Rather ironic because, on paper, she was his ideal female. Might well have solved his mating problem permanently.
Except his heart wasn't in it.
So yeah, no way he was taking on the responsibility for her hopes and dreams. And not a chance he was going all the way with her. She was already being seduced by a fantasy of him--if he actually made love to her, it was only going to get worse: When you didn't know any better, that kind of physical rush could easily be mistaken for something deeper and more meaningful.
Hell, that sort of delusion could happen between two people who had experience.
Like that chick at the tat place, for instance, slipping him her number. He'd had no interest in calling her before, during, or after. He couldn't even remember her name--and the intel vacuum didn't bother him in the slightest. Any woman willing to fuck a guy she didn't know in a public place with three other males around was not someone he needed to have a relationship with.
Harsh? Yes. Double standard? Not a chance. He had no respect for himself either, so it wasn't like he judged his own low, filthy standards with any less distaste.
And besides, Layla had no clue what he'd been doing with humans since his transition. . . all the sex in bathrooms and alley
s and dark corners of clubs, that dirty math adding up to his being able to know exactly what to do with her body.
With any body. Male or female.
Shit. Didn't that make him think about how Blay had spent the day.
Qhuinn fumbled with his phone and flicked the thing open. Calling up the text that Blay had sent from that unknown number, he read and reread and reread it again.
Had to have come from Saxton's phone.
Probably typed out on the guy's bed.
Qhuinn tossed his BlackBerry onto his table and stood up. In the bathroom, he kept the lights out because he was sooo not interested in what he looked like in the jeans and shirt he'd slept in.
Hot mess. No doubt.
As he was washing his face, a subtle whirring sound emanated from all around, the shutters rising from the windows. With water dripping off his chin and a can of Barbasol in his mitt, he glanced out into the new night. In the moonlight, the buds on the silver-trunked birches by the window had come out even farther, indicating the day had been a warm one.
He totally ignored any parallel to Blay's being awakened to his own sexuality.
By Qhuinn's own cousin.
Disgusted with himself, he skipped the razor action and stalked out of his room. Gunning for the kitchen, he went as fast as he dared, given that the barometric pressure in his skull was making him worried about the health and longevity of his optic nerves.
Down in Fritz's fiefdom, he made a pot of coffee as doggen scurried around making First Meal. Good thing they were already so preoccupied. Sometimes, when you felt like shit inside and out, you wanted to work your own Krups.
Pride mattered in moments like this.
Mind you, first trip through the park, he forgot to add the grounds, so all he got was a nice, steaming pot of clear water.
Once more with feeling.
He was coming out of the dining room with a camping thermos full of dark brown miracle juice and a bottle of aspirin when the door to the vestibule was opened by Fritz.