Strong, Silent Type (Rough Riders 6.5)

“You are beautiful. You’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world to me. That hasn’t changed in fourteen years. The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. It never will.”

“Quinn—”

“That said…” He distractedly adjusted his cock. When he realized she’d been staring at his crotch, his palm repeatedly stroked the bulge between his legs. “Oh, little wifey mine. I’m likin’ this naughty side of you. I like it so much, in fact, that I’m gonna give you fair warnin’.”

“About what?”

Instead of answering, Quinn removed his hat. Stripped off his T-shirt. Toed off his shoes and socks.

But he left his sweatpants on.

“Fair warning about what?” she prompted.

“Fair warnin’ that after you run into the house, I’m gonna be hot on your heels. And when I catch you, I’m gonna f**k you right where you stand.”

Her heart thumped a whole lot faster.

“You wanted to let the cat outta the bag and here I am, more than ready to pounce.”

Oh God.

“So if I’m the cat, I guess that makes you—” his gaze swept over her impatiently, “—the mouse.”

Ah hell, she was so screwed.

And she loved every second of it.

Quinn showed his teeth in a ravenous smile. “Now’s your chance. Run little mouse, run.”

Libby opened the truck door just as Quinn lunged at her. Modesty forgotten, she raced up the walkway naked.

***

Three. Two. One.

Quinn leapt out of the truck.

He ignored the burn and sting of the concrete on his bare feet. His focus was on one thing.

Libby.

Finding her. Fucking her. Marking her. A possessive, red haze, more animal than man, fogged his neural pathways. Every pounding footstep echoed in his head as a mantra: mine mine mine.

He tore up the porch steps and shouldered aside the front door. The kitchen zipped by in a blur. He sprinted past the dining room table into the front room.

No. Wait. He stopped. Backtracked in mind and body. There she was, trying to blend into the wall separating the three-season room from the living room.

Silly woman. She’d never been a wallflower in his eyes. She’d never blended. She’d always been the only one who’d stood out in every crowd. From the first moment he’d seen her.

Find her. Fuck her. Mark her.

Mine mine mine.

Quinn growled and advanced on her.

Libby remained utterly still. He ripped off his sweats and stood naked and fully aroused before her.

He slapped his hands on the wall above her head, but she didn’t flinch.

He planted his mouth next to her ear. “I found you.”

“I see that.”

“I want you.” Quinn rubbed his cheek over hers, marking her with his scent.

“I know.”

“You’re mine. Only. Ever. Mine.”

“I know that too, Quinn.”

“Do you also know how I wanna f**k you, little mouse?” Quinn let his lips trail to where her pulse jumped frantically in her throat.

“Ah. No.”

“Then I’ll tell you. You’re gonna be face-first against this wall. Me rammin’ into that sweet, wet, hot, tight pu**y from behind, takin’ what belongs to me. And when I can’t hold back another second?” He flicked his tongue across the hollow of her throat. “Then I’m gonna pull out and come all over your back.

Just like I came all over your front.”

She whimpered a sound of pure need.

Quinn spun Libby forward, positioning her arms above her head, flattening her palms to the wall. He curled his hands around her hips and angled her pelvis for easier, faster, deeper entry.

He slid his right hand over her swollen pu**y lips and used the thick cream to stroke her clit. “You’re drippin’ wet thinkin’ about what I’m gonna do to you.”

Another moan. Louder.

“Gonna be fast, hard and dirty, darlin’ wife.”

“Do it.”

Quinn kept his hold on the front of her body as his left hand aligned his cock. He thrust to the root with one sharp snap of his hips.

Tight. Hot. Wet. Damn. It was good to be inside her. It was damn good to be home.

“Oh. God. Yes.” Her hoarsely spoken words shattered what little restraint he had left.

He slammed in. Withdrew quickly and rammed in again. Over and over. Setting a pace that robbed him of reason and the ability to do anything but sate his need for her by f**king her.

Sweat dampened his hair and trickled down his spine. Blood pounded in his head, his throat, his heart.

His groin was on fire.

A familiar tightening at the base of his c**k signaled he’d reached the end point. Four, five, six, ball-bruising thrusts and he withdrew from Libby in time to take himself in hand. He jacked his c**k hard and aimed at her lower back, groaning at every hot burst of come exploding from his dick. He watched each spurt dotting her skin and a primal roar arose.

Soon as the final shot was over, he pressed his belly to her back, spreading his fluid between them.

“Quinn. I-I need—”

“I’ll take care of you.” Gripping her left hip in his left hand, he used his right fingers to rub her distended clit. No teasing touches. He focused every bit of attention on that pouting bundle of nerves.

Libby gasped. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t. Come for me. Show me you can still come undone at my touch.”

Powerful contractions pulsed beneath his finger and Libby threw her head back. Quinn latched onto the sweet spot at the nape of her neck and suckled strongly, gifting her with a mark.

She bumped her pelvis in time to the throbbing pulses until they stopped. Then she sighed dreamily.

He whispered fiercely, “You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

After a minute or so, she wiggled her butt. “Good thing, because I think we’re stuck together.”

“Appears so.” Lightly, he said, “You mind bein’ stuck with me?”

She didn’t respond right away.

Quinn waited, even though it damn near killed him.

Libby released another long sigh. “I’m finding the idea of being stuck with you more appealing than I imagined a day ago.”

“I can work with that. Hang on.” He turned her and slipped his right arm behind her knees, cradling her to his chest as he lifted her into his arms.

“Quinn! I’m too heavy for you to carry.”

“No, you ain’t. Now hush up.”

“Where are you taking me?”