Page 30 of As You Crave It

CHAPTER EIGHT

CELIAHEARDQUIN’S door close across the hall. She’d heard the two distinct sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. One was Jared’s. He walked heavily into his room and slammed the door again. The second set however—Quin’s—she’d heard come close, and she moved closer to the door, almost pressing herself against it, rigid with anticipation. Would Quin come to her? Would they start their lessons tonight? Then there was a stretch of silence, and she pressed her ear to the wood, trying to hear anything on the other side. She pulled away however, when she heard Quin’s door close on the opposite side of the small hallway.

It surprised her. She’d expected Quin to come find her after his conversation with Jared, but instead he went to his own quarters? What had Jared said to him? She didn’t want to seem like a desperate woman. If the man wanted space, she would give it to him. It was late, so maybe he went to bed. But she wasn’t tired. She was absolutely wired.

She had things to do, anyway. She went to her desk and booted up her laptop. She’d been reflecting on her conversation with Quin. She’d had a terrible day, but the evening had taken an incredible turn. She sat and finished uploading the audio she’d recorded that day. Even though the recorder had been running when Jared had barged into her room, it hadn’t picked up much of what he’d said. The audio wasn’t clear enough to provide a case against him. She needed as much as possible. It shouldn’t be hard. Jared was a disgusting man, and she had two more days trapped on a yacht with him.

Then on the recording, she heard Quin. When he’d come to her, knocking on her door, making sure she was okay. She gasped when she realized that the recorder had been running while they had sex. She knew she should turn it off, but she couldn’t let herself do it. She was embarrassed at first, but soon embarrassment faded as she reminisced. She kept listening, as if she could feel it again. His body pressed against hers. How he’d filled her, brought her to orgasm. A warm tingling feeling crawled over her skin.

She looked over her shoulder at her closed door and wondered if Quin was still awake. He might not have come to her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t go to him. She turned off the recording and left her own quarters. As quietly as she could, she crossed the hallway and paused outside of Quin’s door. She could hear Quin—his voice was low, but angry. He seemed frustrated at someone on the phone, from the sounds of the one-sided argument. She knocked quietly.

Quin pulled open the door. His hair was mussed, and his shirt was unbuttoned. His voice softened. “Celia.” He put his phone to his ear. “Reid, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She cast a look up the hallway to Jared’s quarters. He knew her meaning and opened the door so she could step inside.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to get something settled with the distillery.”

“You sounded upset.”

“Reid and I are just having a little disagreement on a matter. No big deal.”

Celia looked around. His stateroom was similar to hers. It had all the same features and amenities, but his scent filled it. She looked over his shoulder, betting that bed would be just as comfortable.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You know, if I was your girlfriend, I might be a little upset that you didn’t come to say good-night.”

“Oh, I messed that up already, did I?”

“That’s okay,” she told him, and put her palms flat on his chest, then pushed him onto the bed. She joined him, straddling his thighs.

He smiled up at her. “Your lessons are starting early?”

“No time like the present,” she said, leaning over him, pushing his shirt aside and running her palms up his chest. His rippled muscles tensed under her touch. “Where do you want me?”

He chuckled. “I’ve got a couple of ideas. But I thought this was about taking what you want.”

She hummed. He was right. “All right.” She leaned, nuzzled the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent—cologne and sunscreen, mixed with a scent that was only his. She drew her tongue down the center of his chest. She closed her lips over one of his nipples and he gasped in response. She smiled, continuing her journey southward. His hands smoothed down her back and over her ass and squeezed. He ran his hands over her body, his touch fluid, like a wave rolling over her skin. His touch was her reward for taking control. And she liked it. She was more comfortable in the safe space that Quin provided to do what she wanted.

She kissed her way down the midline of his rippled abdominal muscles, until she reached the zipper of his pants. He touched her shoulder, applying a little encouraging pressure for a few seconds, but then he pulled back his hands again, giving her the freedom to do what she was comfortable with.

Crouching near his zipper, she looked up at him, to see his eyes were trained on her. She’d barely touched him yet, but his chest rose and fell, heaving, with every breath he took. His hands were balled into fists at his thighs. She knew what he was doing. He was controlling his hands, not wanting to interfere, encouraging her to do what she wanted.

She rested her fingers on his zipper, could feel hard cock behind it. She hesitated, not sure exactly what he wanted her to do. How he liked to be touched. He reached down and stroked her cheek. “Are you okay?”

She smiled. “I am. What do you want me to do?”

“You’ve got pretty good instincts,” he told her. “I think you know exactly what to do.”

“You’re showing an awful lot of restraint up there,” she said.

He blew out a breath. “I’m trying my best,” he groaned. “But if you don’t hurry up and stop torturing me, I just might have to flip you over and take you.”

A part of her enjoyed the strained look on his face, so as slowly as she could, she lowered the zipper of his slacks and saw that his cock stretched the material of his boxers. She grazed him through the material with her fingernails. His deep groan and the forward push of his hips were her rewards.

Celia yanked on the waistband of his pants and shorts. He lifted his hips from the bed, and she pulled them halfway down his thighs. His dick sprang up, hard and tall. The past couple of times they’d been together, she hadn’t had the chance to appreciate his body. And did she ever? She grasped him, circling his shaft in her fist. She squeezed him, stroked him, rolled the slick moisture over his head.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Quin breathed. He was all silky skin, draped over steel, and her mouth watered for a taste. She leaned over him and closed her lips over the head of his dick and drew him more fully into her mouth. His groan was deep and satisfied. He thrust her hips up, meeting her. She took him deeper, before her head bobbed up and down as she took him in her mouth, withdrew him and took him deeply again. She repeated the action several more times. Each time, his body becoming more and more rigid, his breath more and more jagged.

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