Page 71 of Fragile

“Jesus, Queenie, baby, what are you doing?” I ask, struggling to inhale at the sight.

“I want to do this for you.” She looks up at me from under her lashes. “I want to suck your cock.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” I groan, barely holding on to my sanity.

“Please? I’ve been thinking about it.”

“You have?” I manage, half choking at the imagery that particular admission brings. Does she think about doing it when she gets herself off? Jesus, I can’t cope. I think I’m about to implode, just as her fingers reach up and trail down my stomach, pausing at my belt buckle.

Nodding, she licks her lips, and seeing the wetness she leaves behind on her bottom lip makes my cock jump in my pants.

“Have you ever…?” I begin, then quickly realize I don’t want to know if she has. Why the fuck did my brain go there? But when she shakes her head, euphoria lights up my veins and sparks of fire dance along my skin at the thought of being this girl’s first something.

“Please,” she begs, her eyes soft, yet full of want and lust. Her fingers move with a slight shake, but the belt undoes in one smooth motion. With a swift flick, my pants button is undone,followed by the sharp, metallic sound of the zipper, loud in the quiet locker room.

Bringing my hand up to her cheek, I caress her skin, completely in awe of her.

She pauses just as she moves her fingertips to brush over the band of my boxers. I thread my hand into her hair to pull out the bow, watching the strands unravel over her shoulders, still gripping just enough in silent encouragement. And then she pushes the material down, freeing my aching cock.

“Jesus,” she whispers, coming face to face with me for the first time. The wideness of her eyes and the intrigue glistening in them too makes me feel invincible.

“You know that look on your face does wonders for my ego.”

“The eggplant emoji is supposed to be a euphemism, not a real thing.”

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to say it’ll fit?”

The noise that leaves her mouth is a mixture of snort and laugh. “I’m not afraid of your above average dick.”

“Very above average,” I correct, gripping myself and stroking once, twice, three times to take away the edge I’m already teetering on.

“Overachiever,” she mutters playfully, and then I watch with rapt attention as she brings her hand up to replace mine and her perfectly pink tongue sneaks out and licks the tip. I almost lose my shit right there and then.

“Holy shit,” I curse. Her mouth opens, and her heat surrounds me, all of me, taking me to the back of her throat in one swift motion. “Ooh, holy shit,” I repeat, because I really am about to lose it. I bow forward, but stop myself by holding on to the wall. The coolness of the stone wall helps me refocus for about half a second before she’s dragging her mouth back to the tip.

Looking down, as her head bobs and her hand works the base of me, I feel a growl building in my throat at the sight. It’s sloppy,and lacking in finesse, but she makes up for it with enthusiasm and the ability to take me so deeply that my toes curl. This is fucking Quinn Dawson, the girl next door, the girl who bakes cookies and colors within the lines. And now she’s giving me the best blow job of my life.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I hiss, my hips pushing forward as my grip tightens in her hair. The idea that I’m about to corrupt this innocent girl makes me feel like I’m spiraling out of control. Heat builds down my spine as she moves faster, gripping harder, and I can barely catch my breath.

“Oh, shit. I’m gonna, you need to—”

I’m cut off by her pushing me all the way to the back of her throat with a determined look, and then I lose it, coming harder than I ever have, my muscles locking and jaw slack as she watches me fall apart for her.

She sucks me once more, eyes still locked on mine beneath me as she slowly pulls away, her tongue lingering on the head of my sensitive cock and licking every last drop. With a hiss, I haul her up as she brushes her thumb over the corner of her swollen lips, and I crash my mouth to hers, tasting myself on her sweet tongue. “You’re incredible,” I murmur against her mouth. “I can’t wait until I can taste you.”

Her sharp inhale and the wild look in her eyes tell me she can’t wait for that too.

Chapter thirty-three

Quinn

“Is it really happening?”Hudson whispers.

“Maybe it’s a mirage, or maybe we’re all hallucinating.” Jay snickers.

“Get fucked, all of you. I’m here, okay? It’s not a big deal.” Miles pouts, which is one of my favorite things he does because he gets this little dimple in the middle of his chin when he pushes his bottom lip out. It’s adorable.

“Listen, we just never thought we’d see the day when Miles Cooper, the man who is too good for sparkly tape, would get his own scrapbook.”

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