Page 22 of Final Reckoning

11

Finish Him

“I need to get you home,”I tell her.

Her mouth takes on a stubborn set that’s as sexy as it is exasperating. “And you?”

“I have things to do.” Like making sure the people I love are safe.

“Teo–”

“Quinn.” I’m not going to argue this with her.

She doesn’t listen. “There’s no need for you to be on your own anymore.”

“Yeah, there is.”

“Why? It’s not for our safety; all of us are targets already.”

Damn her logic. “It’s not up for discussion.”

“You don’t have to punish yourself.”

I haul her across the cab until we’re face to face. “Don’t try to fucking psychoanalyze me.”

“There’s nothing to analyze! You laid it all out for me.”

Her eyes are bright with temper. Quinn angry is a sight to see … one that makes my dick hard. I yank her against me and let my mouth crash down on hers.

She ignites in my arms. The next few moments are spent dragging her clothes off while I plunder her mouth. When she’s naked from the waist down, I move her to straddle me, free myself, and drive up into her.

Her head flies back and she vises around me. I waste no time in fucking her brains out, slamming her down on my cock while my hips piston. Her tits are bouncing in front of me, and I want my mouth on them.

“Shirt. Off.” And she does it, she peels off the flannel and t-shirt and tosses them aside. “Tits out.” She scoops them from her bra and offers them to me, and I clamp my mouth on one and suck hard.

We’re parked on the shoulder, on a public road, and I couldn’t care less. So far as I know there’s no one for miles around, but if that weren’t the case this would still be happening, maybe just a little more discreetly. But only a little.

“Teo!” I fuck her even harder, not stopping even when she comes, her pussy doing its best to strangle my cock. I keep powering into her, faster and faster, until it hits me, and I bury myself in her a final time and let go, filling her up with the most spectacular climax I’ve ever had in my life.

I’m almost dizzy afterwards. Holding her close, I fumble for the flannel, find it, and drape it over her shoulders. My brain is still foggy with pleasure when she says, “Just so you know, I’m not sorry.”

I blink at her. “What?”

“If I get pregnant, I’m keeping the baby.”

Holy fuck. I completely forgot myself. That hasn’t happened in … ever. Even as a randy teenager, I was careful. “Quinn …”

“Don’t apologize. Please. I just told you I’m not sorry.” Her lips press together. “Even if you are.”

It was fucking irresponsible of me, even if we both wanted it. “Quinn.”

“Don’t.” Her voice sharpens. “You won’t owe me anything.”

Now I’m pissed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If your family tries to pressure you into marrying me, you don’t have to. We can work out our own arrangement.”

I’m too angry to trust myself to speak. Lifting her off me, I find the clothes scattered on my side of the cab and hand them over. A brittle silence reigns while she stiffly pulls them on.

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