Strong, Silent Type (Rough Riders 6.5)

“No!” Libby’s shoulders shot up.

Quinn pushed them back down. “Yes.”

“But we aren’t supposed to—”

“Aren’t supposed to what? Ain’t no rules but mine. This is my show, remember? Raise your hips higher so I can reach your sweet spot.”

She had a moment of hesitation before she complied.

“That’s my girl.” Quinn slid his first and middle fingers through the sweet cream pouring from her sex, combining it with the oil, swirling the mixture up. After a few concentrated strokes, he slipped his fingers into her pu**y, letting her clit rest on the bony section at the base of his thumb.

“Oh. That does feel really good.”

He wiggled his fingers around the snug channel, satisfaction filled him at seeing her writhing and trying to force his fingers deeper.

“Please.”

“What?” Quinn was in a fog of lust. His need to prove he could still satisfy his mate became a single-minded pursuit.

At her whispered plea, “Faster,” Quinn lost it. Pumping his fingers inside her, he growled in her ear,

“I wanna f**k you like this, darlin’ wife. Face down on the dining room table, no foreplay, just hard, fast f**king. Poundin’ into this pu**y until you scream.”

“Yes. God. Yes.”

“Give it to me, Libby. Come around my fingers. Prove to me you love the way only I can make you come.”

Libby gasped.

“Ssh. When we’re home you can cause a ruckus, but this time be quiet.” He whispered, “And don’t that just make our naughty little secret so much raunchier, knowin’ you gotta be still when your whole body is buckin’ for release?”

“Quinn…I’m gonna—”

“Come. Now.”

Another gasp escaped Libby’s sweet mouth as her orgasm exploded. Quinn felt it everywhere, a rhythmic pulling around his fingers, a steady throbbing where her clit pressed into his hand, even the skin on her back pulsed the same cadence. He stared greedily as her climax inundated her.

On a final sigh, Libby slumped to the table.

Quinn removed his hand from between her thighs and loomed over her. “Look at me.”

She blinked at him.

“I love the way you taste.” He placed his fingers inside his mouth and sucked noisily. Then he traced her lips with his wet fingers. “Taste yourself.”

Heat flashed in Libby’s eyes. Keeping their gazes locked, she parted her lips, sucking his fingers to the knuckles. Quinn growled at feeling her hot little tongue swirling around the rough skin. He withdrew his fingers, flipped her over, and took her mouth savagely.

The kiss was out of control from the start. After several blissful minutes, Quinn managed to find his sanity before they f**ked right there in AJ’s massage studio. He slipped his lips free from hers and placed them against her ear. “Get dressed.”

“But—”

“We’re done here, Libby. Get dressed. Fast.” He drew in a deep breath. “Please.”

In such close proximity, he felt—rather than saw—her nod. Unable to control his need for her or his raging hard-on, he presented his back to her, trying like hell to ignore the sexy sounds of her uneven breathing and the rustle of her clothing.

Libby cleared her throat. “I’m ready.”

He clasped her hand and ushered her outside without another word.

Chapter Four

The wind whistled, blowing leaves and debris around their feet. Although Libby’s mind was hazed with pleasure, she hated that Quinn was dragging her off like a disobedient child.

She dug her bootheels into the sidewalk and jerked them to a stop.

Quinn whirled around.

Everything feminine inside her cheered at his scorching look. His gorgeous blue eyes were nearly black, not from rage, but from passion, which increased her determination to set things straight before they took another step—literally or figuratively.

Testily, he said, “What?”

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“Why did you haul me out of there so damn fast?”

“Guess.”

Yippee, he was back to one-word answers. “Were you embarrassed about what just happened?”

“No. Were you?”

“No. It was hot as hell.” Libby’s gaze dropped to the front of Quinn’s sweats. Bingo. Damn impressive tent. She smirked. “Are we leaving because you have a hard-on?”

“Yep.”

“That’s all?”

“Jesus, Libby, will you get in the goddamn truck so we can talk about this at home?”

“Nope.”

Quinn stared at her as if she’d morphed into a three-eyed, green-tentacled alien life form.

“So it’s okay for you to get me off in public, but I can’t return the favor?”

“What?”

Libby grabbed him by the shirtsleeve and towed him around the corner of the building. Luckily, this side of the two-story brick structure faced an empty lot. She pressed her back against the sandstone bricks and tugged him. Well, she tried to tug him, but the solidly built man wouldn’t budge.

“What are you doin’?”

“Seducing you. Fair’s fair, Quinn. I wanna get you off. Right here, right now.”

“Good Lord, woman, what’s gotten into you?”

“You’ve gotten into me, remember whose fingers were in who?” Libby wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hoist me against this wall and rub your c**k on me until you come.”

She could picture her husband mentally compiling a list of pros and cons. “We’re outside. Anyone could see us.”

“So?”

“Libby.”

“What? Can you blame me for wanting more of the wild man I met behind the curtain?” Libby rubbed her lips over the baby-smooth line of his jaw and he angled his head, allowing her better access to all the tasty spots. “You’ve held back with me, Quinn. Sometimes you’ve shown me a glimpse of that beast inside you. If we’re really going to try and make this work, no more secrets between us. No more politeness. No more PC behavior. No more hiding behind a mask.”

He squinted at her. “If I lower my mask, you’d better be prepared to lower yours too.”

“What do you mean?”

“That means I wanna see some of the shine worn off the perfect rancher’s wife halo you wear like a tiara. Hell, I’d love to knock that crown right off your pretty, proper little head.”

There was the opening she’d longed for. Masks off, gloves off, the real down and dirty side to each of them, squaring off with no rules. She said, “Deal.”