Friendly Fire (Ricochet 2)

Quinn was lying on her stomach, hugging a pillow under her head as she slept. The room was warm enough that she had kicked off the sheet at some point, exposing all of that perfect, creamy flesh. Rick leaned over and gently fingered a lock of her dark hair. Its soft texture slipping easily through his loose hold.

Swollen, ruby red lips contrasted starkly with both the white bedding and her pale skin. They were parted just enough to flood Rick with images of them stretching wide around his thick cock as he thrust it down her throat. His suddenly insatiable dick stirred to life, pulsing with a rush of blood to his groin.

Ignoring his arousal, Rick’s eyes continued down the gentle slope of Quinn’s spine, longing to trace the curved line with his tongue. The swell of her hips, starting with two small dimples just above her round ass, begged to be grabbed with his large hands to brace himself as he sunk in deep.

Shit.

His now completely hard dick pulsed, too full to disregard. Rick wrapped his hand around the shaft, stroking languidly as he raked his eyes up and down Quinn’s sleeping form. Not wanting to get caught standing over the bed, jerking himself off like a pervert, Rick slid back under the covers. Quinn must have sensed his movement, because she immediately curled up next to him, that perfect ass pressing against his aching hard-on.

The friction pulled a low moan from Rick’s throat, escaping in a sharp hiss from his between his clenched teeth.

He swore he heard a faint giggle right before Quinn ground those delectable hips back onto his stiff cock. When she began to move, sliding his shaft along the cleft between her buttocks, he realized she was torturing him on purpose.

Rick gave her ass a light slap, and rasped in her ear. “You’re being very naughty, Quinn.”

Quinn immediately froze, her entire body becoming rigid and tense. Rick could almost see the cold veil that dropped over them, chilling the room enough that he actually shivered.

He wanted to kick his own ass for being so fucking stupid. Rick knew Quinn had all of the signs of being abused, so w

hy in the hell would he play around by slapping her?

“I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done—”

‘It’s fine, Rick. I’m fine.” He could tell Quinn was trying to keep her voice light and unaffected, but he could hear the slight waver and feel her body tremble beneath his touch.

Rick yanked his hands back as if her skin scalded him, wanting to give Quinn space to recover from his mistake. He rolled onto his back, making sure that their bodies didn’t touch anywhere, not wanting to make the situation any worse.

“I’m thirsty.” And with that brief statement, Quinn leapt out of bed, hurriedly pulling on a tank top and shorts. She was dressed and out of the room in less than ten seconds, leaving Rick’s head spinning.

“Jesus. I’m such a fuck up.” Rick scolded himself quietly while digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He slowly shuffled into his clothes, which were lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. The more he thought about Quinn’s reaction, the angrier he got. Someone had put his hands on Quinn, her reactions to certain situations made it more than obvious. But who? Her father? It seemed that Quinn had a strained relationship the man, but Mack said he was a close friend. They served together in the Corps. Knowing Mack, and his judge of character, Rick doubted he’d be friends with a man who would beat his daughter.

That left a lover or boyfriend as the most likely suspect. Rick’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles began to ache from the strain. If he ever found out who the bastard was that turned this gorgeous, playful, intelligent girl into such a frightened, untrusting mess, he would probably kill them with his bare hands.

Unsure of what to expect next, Rick took a deep breath and left the bedroom.

Quinn was standing at her living room window, watching the light traffic in front of the gym. A puke green Jeep Wrangler with it’s top down flew into the parking lot, jerking to an abrupt stop. Quinn smiled as Tucker jumped from the car and disappeared through the door beneath where she stood.

“That guy is one of the worst drivers I’ve ever encountered.” Rick said from next to her, looking out the window at the same scene.

She laughed at Rick’s assessment of Sanctum’s I.T. specialist. His Jeep was sitting crooked, taking up two parking spaces. “I can see that.”

Thankful that Rick lightened the mood, Quinn glanced over at him. His face turned serious and it looked as though he was about to say something when her phone rang.

“Sorry.” Quinn pulled her phone out of her purse, not at all sorry for the interruption. The last thing she wanted to discuss with Rick was the reason for her reaction to his playful swat.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Hardy?”

“Ummmm,” Quinn was suddenly very aware of Rick standing half a foot away, listening to her side of the conversation. She didn’t bother to correct her name with the man on the other end and have to explain it to Rick. “Yes?”

“This is Bradley Stanton. I’m calling from your lawyer’s office. We need you to come down and sign a form for your divorce. It was an oversight the last time you were in.” The man coughed into the phone. He sounded horribly sick.

Quinn rubbed a hand across her forehead. “When?”

“I’ll be in the office Sunday morning from ten to eleven. Anytime during that would be fine. It should only take a minute.”