Losing It

Her gaze travels down my torso. “Say it again.”

“Make me come, Quinn.”

Her tongue slides over her lips. Her chest heaves. Her fingers dig into her thighs.

She stares as I slide my boxers off my hips.

Her eyes go wide. Fill with surprise. “It’s so—”

“You’ve never seen—”

“In movies, yeah. But this—” Her hand goes straight to my cock. “It’s so… big.”

“I’m—”

“Yeah.” Her fingers brush my shaft. “What do I?”

“Start with your thumb and pointer finger.”

She nods.

“Wrap them around me.”

She does. She stares at my cock with wide eyes, like she can’t believe she’s actually touching me.

It’s hard to blame her.

I can’t believe it either.

“Slide your hand up and down,” I say.

She nods.

“Start soft and go harder.”

She holds me with a loose grip. Slides her hand over my tip, up my shaft, back again. Then she does it a little firmer. “How hard?”

“Pretty fucking hard. It can take a beating.”

She lets out an awkward laugh. Then she nods. Gets that I’m absorbing this information carefully look.

She tightens her grip around me. Drags her hand up my cock, then back down. “How fast?”

“There’s no rule. You can keep going until you find the spot.”

“How do you know?”

“You know.”

“Okay.” She grips me a little tighter. Works a little faster.

Fuck, it feels good.

My body swells with pleasure.

It rushes through my pelvis, my torso, my limbs.

It’s everywhere.

Then it’s—

Ow.

“Too much.” I grab her wrist reflexively.

“Sorry.”

“It happens.” I take her hand. Bring it back to my cock. “Try this. Wrap your entire hand around me.”

“Oh?”

I nod.

She wraps her fingers around me. Hooks them with her thumb. “It feels good.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Different than I expected.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Just different. You’re so hard, but your skin is soft. God, I’m usually more articulate.”

“Yeah.” Honestly, I’m barely managing conscious thought, much less articulate conversation.

“It’s just… good.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Sorry, I-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Okay.” She grips me a little tighter. “I want to make you come, Wes.”

My cock quivers.

“Where do you want your hands?”

I bring my hands to her chest.

She groans as my fingers brush her nipples. “Fuck, you’re good at that.” She leans in to press her lips to mine.

She kisses me hard as she strokes me.

Firmer and firmer and—

There.

I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. “Perfect.”

“Faster or—”

“Exactly like that.”

“Okay.” Her voice gets low and breathy.

She arches her back, driving her tits into my hands.

I toy with her.

She groans against my mouth.

Works me with her hand.

It takes her a minute to get back to that pressure, but once she does—

Fuck.

Desire rushes through my veins.

My entire body buzzes.

Quinn Thorn is giving me a hand job.

My teenage fantasies come to life.

She pulls back with a sigh. Watches her hand glide over my cock.

I stare into her gorgeous hazel eyes. Watch her watch.

There’s something so fucking hot about her curiosity.

It makes me—

Fuck.

With her next stroke, I unravel.

All that tension unwinds.

My cock pulses.

Pleasure spills through my pelvis and thighs. Up my torso. Down my lips. All the way to my fucking fingertips.

I spill onto her hand as I come.

“Woah.” Her chest heaves then falls. “That’s—”

“Yeah.”

She waits until I’m finished. Then she kisses me. Stands. Goes straight to the sink to rinse her hands. “I never—”

“I know.”

“It’s always that messy?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you… when you?”

Fuck, I’m barely absorbing anything. My brain is flashing Quinn, Quinn, Quinn.

“Wes?”

“Huh?”

“You need a tissue?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You can use the shower too.”

“Yeah.” I stand. Move into the bathroom. Wash up.

It takes a minute to find conscious thought.

And it dissolves immediately.

I’m about to drag her to her bedroom and make her come.

Conscious thought is fucking useless.

Chapter Twenty

Wes

Quinn is sitting on her bed, back straight, legs together, palms on her thighs, gaze straight ahead.

“Hey.” She plays with the hem of her robe. It’s draped over her shoulders. Showing off that sliver of skin between her tits, down her stomach, all the way to her red panties.

I swear, I’m ready to go again.

I’m not.

But give me ten minutes…

“What, um… What’s the lesson plan, exactly?” She presses her lips together.

They’re red again.

When did she put on makeup?

Suddenly, I’m desperate for her to mark me somehow.

I need her lipstick staining my neck, chest, cock—

“You ever relax?” I move farther into the bedroom.

She shoots me a that’s a stupid question look. Motions to her laptop, now sitting on her desk, currently silent. “Music or no music?”

“You decide.”

“Okay.” She moves to the computer. Scrolls for a minute. Starts a playlist of R&B slow jams.

Fuck, this is perfect.

Her cheeks flush. “Was… um… was it good?”

“Very good.”

“Oh.” She beams. “Thank you.”

Fuck, I can’t say something as cheesy as the pleasure is mine, but I can’t exactly accept the gratitude either.

I should be thanking her.

I should be gushing about her skill.

But this first.

I take another step toward her. “Stand up.”

“Why?”

“That will give both of us the best view.”

“You’re really—”

“I’m really what?”

Her gaze flits to the mirror then back to me. “I can’t watch myself.”

“Why not?”

Her brow furrows. She stares at me like I asked her the stupidest question in the world. “It’s weird.”