Page 65 of Parker

“You’re pretty cut, Quinn.”

“Nah. Not like your brothers.”

“Gross!” she cries, swatting at me. “Don’t talk about my brothers when you’re straddling me, half-naked with a hard-on!”

I laugh, reaching for the hem of her T-shirt and recalling that she’s not wearing a bra.

“Get half-naked with me,” I suggest.

She raises her arms, and I pull her top over her head, messing up her already-messy bun. Reaching for her hair scrunchie, I pull it from her bun, freeing her long blonde locks, before looking down at her bare chest. Her breasts, the object of my most lustful fantasies of the past decade, are creamy and pink, the nipples standing at attention.

For me. Formyattention.

I lean down and lick a circle around one, which puckers against my lips, darkening to a deep rose. Her hands land on the sides of my head, her fingers threading through my thick, black hair, her nails digging into my scalp as I suck on her nipple before sliding my lips to her other breast and doing the same.

She whimpers softly, little moans of pleasure that make my breathing quicken. I slip my hands down her sides, marveling at the softness of her skin, at how toned and taut her muscles are beneath my palms. When I get to the waistband of her sweats, I pause, waiting for permission to move lower.

Her fingers abandon my hair as she covers my hand with hers, pushing my fingers under her pants, under her panties, and over her hips. Leaning up on her knees, she pulls down the pants completely, then lays back on the couch. Her eyes never leave mine as I pull the pants from her legs, place her knees over my shoulders, and bury my face between her thighs.

Chapter 9

Parker

I throw back my head, closing my eyes as my hips lift off the couch. His tongue licks a lazy circle around my clit, and my hands plunge back into his hair. His hands land on my hips, holding me in place as he laps at my clit, then covers it with his mouth and lightly sucks.

Oh my god, he’s good at this.

My belly warms. My toes, dangling against his back, tingle. I feel light-headed. It’s like that feeling you get on a roller coaster right before and after the first big drop, when you’re weightless and slightly terrified, but wide-eyed with excitement.

One of his hands flattens against my belly, then strokes lower. His tongue doesn’t let up on my clit as he inserts one, then two fingers, into my vagina, hooking them expertly to push against my G-spot.

I grind my head back into the sofa cushion as my hips lift again.

His fingers press. His lips suck. His tongue licks.

Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod.

My muscles tense to a clench, a whimper blossoming into a scream that surges from the back of my throat as every muscle in my pelvis lets go. I’m loud when I orgasm against his mouth, weightless and wet, exhausted and replete. Waves and waves of pure pleasure overtake me, and I let them. Eyes closed, head thrown back, I feel safe in his arms. I want him to do that to me a million more times…but not right now. Now, more than anything else, I want—no,I need—to feel him inside of me.

He gently lowers my legs from his shoulders, and I open my eyes to find him standing by the side of the couch. I stare athim, hungry for more, as he flicks open the button of his jeans and unzips his fly. He eases the denim out and over the biggest erection I’ve ever seen, and while I’m grateful for the way he prepared me, I’m a little terrified about how he’ll fit inside of me.

My mouth drops open. I can’t look away as he reaches for his cock, rubbing the pre-cum around the tip, then stroking its length as he reads the trepidation in my eyes.

“I’m big.”

“No shit,” I murmur, sliding my eyes to his.

“Toobig?” he asks.

I drop my eyes back to his erection, tilting my head to the side, while trying to gauge the girth of him and the tightness of me. It’s going to be snug. That’s for sure. But painful? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I sure as fuck hope not because I want him. I need him. I’m throbbing with emptiness, and Quinn’s monster dick is the only thing that’ll ease that ache inside.

“Look, Parker…” He grimaces. “We don’t have to—”

“Shut up, Quinn,” I tell him, crooking my finger to beckon him closer. I’m lying a little when I add, “It’s going to be fine. Come here.”

Knees bent, I spread my legs wide, and he kneels between them. With his palms on my kneecaps, he stares down at me, his face full of love, but edged in worry.

“I love you so much,” he says. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

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