First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)
No wonder Wren is so ashamed of me right now, feeling the need to throw it in my face that when she was sexually frustrated with Shepherd during their “What the hell are we doing with each other?” phase, I so helpfully told her to grow some balls, take her clothes off, and order him to screw her. These last few weeks with Quinn, hanging out around the island and him popping up wherever I am, has just completely confused my brain and my heart with this pretend relationship we’re supposed to be in.
“The first time I walked into the Vipers’s locker room and saw my picture and jersey hanging on my locker, I cried like a fucking baby,” Quinn says softly, finally filling the quietness in the room my lust-filled freaking out caused.
It’s almost creepy, being in here all alone, with all the lights turned off in the massive, carpeted room aside from the small recessed lights above each locker shining down on them and the handful of flat-screen televisions hanging on the walls, flipping through a slideshow of the current Sharks roster. The quiet stillness in the room makes you feel like you have to talk softly or whisper.
“I did the same thing the first time I put on my Vipers uniform,” I tell Quinn, my heart flip-flopping around in my chest, thinking about this man being emotional and shedding tears.
“I still feel like a dick that I didn’t recognize you the night we met,” he admits after having told me during one of our runs that he never bought a calendar, giving me the explanation why, and apologizing to me so many times I had to jokingly threaten that I was going to pepper spray him again. “You’ll be happy to know I have since looked through all your calendar photos, and July from last year is definitely my favorite.”
I swallow thickly when his eyes trail down my body, remembering that last year’s calendar was a special swimsuit edition. I was kneeling in the sand with my legs spread, one arm flung over my head, wearing a white bandeau bikini top, with the thumb of my other hand hooked into my tiny white bikini bottoms, starting to tug them down my hip. It was a pretty good photo, taken right at sunset, with my wet hair clinging to my face and down over my shoulders. The fact that Quinn has seen it and is remembering it right now makes my skin feel hot and itchy, like it did that day of the photoshoot, when I was covered in sand and sweat under the scorching, setting sun.
“Have you been doing dirty things with my calendar photo?” I tease, trying to lighten the situation and cool off my heated skin, waiting for him to come back with a sarcastic reply.
It takes a few torturous seconds for his eyes to make their way back up to mine. He holds my stare quietly for a few minutes, making my heart pound even harder than it already was and the teasing smile slip from my face.
“Are you asking if I looked at that sexy as fuck picture of you, with beads of water dripping off all that smooth, creamy skin, biting that full bottom lip I already know tastes like heaven, while I gripped my cock in my fist and jerked off so hard I almost passed out when I came?” Quinn asks casually with a raise of one eyebrow, each word that effortlessly comes out of his mouth instantly forming visuals in my head, making me pulse with need and the flimsy black G-string I’m wearing soak with wetness. “Would that be considered a dirty thing?”
Well shit. This just got a little too real.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, wondering how I even manage to get the words out of me I’m breathing so hard.
“Not being a proper gentleman, that’s for goddamn sure” is what I think Quinn mutters under his breath, but I honestly can’t be sure, since he changes subjects so quickly it makes my head spin. “Wow, that orchestra is really all over the map with their song choices tonight.”
There’s an amused smile on his face as he looks at me while I stand here panting, like he wasn’t just talking about cock, and gripping, and coming, filling my head with so many dirty images of him I might pass out.
Both of us stay quiet for a few minutes, listening to the faint sounds of “Celebrity Skin” by Hole, hoping he can’t hear the thundering of my heart as well. Even with being a little ways down the tunnel, we can still hear the muffled sounds of the orchestra’s music making its way to us, and it’s actually kind of nice and doesn’t make this room seem so church-like.