That was all I needed. The light turned green and I sped off to the homestretch. Placing an arm under her belly, I pressed my chest into her back, restricting her movement and thrusting into her wet core hard and deep.
It didn’t take long before I felt the telltale tingles at my lower back. My vision went black as I thrust deeper and deeper before finally, colored spots danced behind my eyelids a moment before my body went stiff. I held my breath and gritted my teeth as my cock jerked inside of Camilla, filling the condom with come.
I held Camilla in my arms a good thirty seconds before I could move again. I slipped out of her and gently lay her on the bed, covering her with a sheet. She sighed dreamily, and I knew she would be asleep by the time I came out of the bathroom.
That was one of the reasons I liked Camilla. There was never an awkward goodbye. She fell asleep and I left. Till next time.
Making my way to the bathroom, I cleaned myself up and dressed, then quietly made my way to the door. I listened to the soft snoring of Camilla as I made my exit. I left my key on the table by the TV and closed the door behind me.
I stood in the hall, rubbing the back of my neck. I was officially fatigued, drained, and yet, I wanted to know if Maya was awake. I wanted to hear her voice before I went to sleep.
The first thing I did when I pulled into my building was turn on my cellphone. I didn’t even think before I called.
She sounded groggy, as if I had just woken her. “Quinn?”
Shit. I hadn’t checked the time before I dialed. I pulled my phone away from my ear and saw the time.
1:32 a.m. Yeah. Shit is right.
“Hey, sorry I woke you. I just wanted to check on you, see if you were okay.”
She sounded confused and adorably sleepy. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
I wouldn’t scowl. I wouldn’t. “You didn’t call.”
I heard ruffling in the background as I imagined she sat up. “I know. I sent you a text.”
Then I did scowl. “No, you didn’t.”
She argued right back. “Uh, yes, I did.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did!”
I fought a sigh. This was going nowhere fast. “Would I be calling to make sure you were okay if you had sent me a text?”
She paused. “Hold on a second.” She pressed buttons on her cell and I pulled it away from my ear as it beeped again and again. She muttered, “Shit,” then came back sounding apologetic. “You’re right. I did write out the message, but it’s still sitting in my drafts. I must’ve never hit send. Sorry, Cap’.”
I smiled at one of my many nicknames. “It’s all right. I really just wanted to make sure something hadn’t happened to you.”
Her voice came across pleased. “You didn’t need to do that.”
My response was immediate. “I wanted to.”
She swallowed hard then replied softly, “I’m okay.” Then she paused a moment before whispering, “Goodnight, Quinn.”
My heart skipped a beat, and it shocked me. “Sweet dreams, babe.”
She hung up and, looking down at my phone, I thought about the husky sweetness of her voice. I’d bet my life she had a soft pink blush on her cheeks.
It took me five minutes of thinking to realize I had been standing outside my front door, in the hall the entire time.
Chapter Sixteen
Mia
After Quinn called, it took over an hour for me to find sleep again. I couldn’t stop thinking about the rough lilt of his voice. Past memories assaulted me.
Coming home for Christmas had been a mistake. I did this every year, and every damn year, I regretted it.
Losing weight hadn’t been easy, but in the past year, I had lost nineteen pounds. Sure, it didn’t look like I had lost much, or even anything, but I felt better about myself and was proud of my willpower.
I didn’t drink. I didn’t smoke. I didn’t do drugs. But I ate. And having a food addiction was so much more severe than any other addiction, I thought, because food was available anywhere and everywhere. Years back, I would spend nights going to the gym then leaving just to be tempted by burger joints on the way home. There I would be, in my gym clothes, eating a burger in a dark part of the parking lot, feeling ashamed.
It was harder to say no than yes. I was weak when it came to my eats.
So when my mother looked at me with that disapproving frown and accused, “Have you lost weight?” I cracked. Would it have killed her to tell me that she was happy I was finally doing something about my weight? Yes, apparently, because every spare moment, she would shove something edible under my nose, and after a short argument, I would give in.
I’d bet I would go back to college at least six pounds heavier and a shitload sadder.
I never understood my mother or why she fought so hard when it came to my wanting to lose weight. The only thing I could think of was that she thought my personality would change along with my weight. I’d heard her make the same accusation about her sister, my aunt Penny.
Every year, a member of our block would host a Christmas party. This year was Mom’s turn. We ate Christmas lunch at midday then got to work making trays and trays of appetizers, dips, and desserts. Of course, I ate while I worked, which pleased Mom immensely and left me feeling ill. Around six p.m., members of the community started showing up. I went upstairs to change, only to find that the dress I had bought before I came home, nineteen pounds thinner, no longer fit.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by this. I had eaten almost every hour over the past three days and the dress had been tight when I bought it. Talk about discouragement. I almost threw a fit, but instead, I pulled up my big girl panties and dressed in black pants and a blouse. I was underdressed and felt ugly, but it was my own fault.
I stood in a corner most of the night. Harry disappeared after lunch to do a shift at the bar, and all the normal people my age were
out with friends and loved ones. I was the only person under forty at this shindig, and it blew.
Mom had placed me on waitress duty, as if I wasn’t embarrassed enough, so I spent the majority of the night taking trays of finger-food, walking them around for a minute, and then hiding in the corner with the tray, eating all the contents of said tray till I felt sick.
Ten-thirty rolled around and I was sure Mom wouldn’t notice my absence, so I fled upstairs. If Mom had an issue with that, she could suck an egg. I was done.
I got out of my clothes and into my Snoopy pajamas, tied my hair into a high ponytail, and sat on my bed, reading. Mom had placed a red rope across the stairs, so no one would be coming up, and I felt it safe to leave my door open.
I should’ve closed it. Then locked it. Then placed a chair against it and sat in that chair.
Being engrossed in my book had nothing on the tall, stumbling man who gripped my doorframe to keep from falling over. He held on tightly with one hand, his body swaying from side-to-side as he groaned and ran a hand down his face. Wide-eyed, I held the book to my chest and heaved in anxious breaths. Then he saw me.
His hair looked freshly cut, was dark brown and styled in that way hairdressers do when they’ve completed your new ‘do. I couldn’t see his eyes from where I was, but I knew they were too light to be brown. His tall body was lean but muscular, and the sleeves of the black shirt he wore over his dark jeans had been pushed up to the elbows, his top button undone. He leaned forward, squinting hard, looking right at me and teetering.
“Minnie, right?”
He knows me?
There was only one person who called me Minnie. My brother. By process of elimination, I quickly realized who this person was. I blushed and nodded slowly.
He smiled crookedly, and it was shocked me at how my stomach fluttered. “I’m Matt Quinn, Harry’s friend.” Before I could say anything, he stepped a foot into my room and sat. “Mind if I sit?” He stretched his legs out in front of him, giving me a close-up view of just how tall he was.