Page 122 of Quinlan

Her anger remains. It’s a beautiful thing.

But she can’t resist me.

I can’t resist her either. Can’t do a damn thing about this obsession. The pounding in my chest. The overwhelming desire.

“So tight.” She clamps around me at that, groaning. Frustrated. Mesmerizing. “You took three cocks last night in this tight little pussy. Does it hurt? Having my fingers inside you?”

Her cheeks flush, her teeth clamp on my fingers.

“Poor Quinlan, you must be sore.”

She whimpers, gripping me tighter for leverage so she can tilt her hips up.

“You want more.” I shove her on her back. With my fingers still deep in her mouth, I wrangle her jeans off her legs. Drive two fingers into her cunt and curl them inside her, stroking her walls. “Are you a whore for pain, Quinlan?”

“I hate you,” she murmurs, kicking me in the stomach.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” My palm is flat on her belly, pinning her to the hard surface. Fucking her with the fingers of my other hand. “You’re gorgeous when you’re mad.”

“Mad about what? Or who?” Damien strolls into the kitchen, casual in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. A smirk on his face. “Is there any chance it’s me? Sure fucking hope so.”

Quinlan turns her head to Damien. After my so-called betrayal, she frowns at him. Probably for helping mehidemyother lover.

Another “Fuck you” leaves her lips.

“Fuck me?” Damien’s smooth, prowling toward us. He comes to our side of the counter, grabs Quinlan’s arm, and together, we shift her so she lies parallel to the edge.

“Yes,” she breathes easier without my fingers in her mouth.

“That’s not a nice thing to say.” He doesn’t miss a beat, pulling on her bottom lip and spits into her mouth. Slams her lips shut. “Not nice at all.”

Her eyes are wide, her body thrashing. She screams into his hand.

“Especially since you’ve been bad tonight.” My mouth is on her pussy, ignoring her small kicks, her useless struggle. I look up, her arousal damping my lips. “Sneaking around. Eavesdropping.”

“Snooping? Again?” I hear the smirk in Damien’s voice rather than see it.

“Wasn’t”—moan—“snooping.”

I’m busy kissing Quinlan’s pretty pussy in this new angle. Rubbing her G-spot over and over, my fingers up to the second knuckle. I suck on her clit, and Quinlan’s scream reaches all the way to my balls.

She makes me painfully hard. My cock strains against my sleep pants. I need to be inside her. I need to keep playing this game just as much.

“So, what was it you heard, darling?” Damien kisses up her jaw. Shoves her face to the side, licking her tattoo. Sucking on it.

My fucking God. I raise my mouth, saying, “She thinks I’m married. Or have a girlfriend.”

“Is that so?” The teasing in his voice almost lands him a punch in the face.

He catches her fist, unclenches her fingers and sucks on her middle finger.

“Anne,” she whispers. I bet it drives her crazy, this jealousy. This possessiveness.

Join the club.We’ve had years of that. Of watching, waiting. Needing her so bad it became hard to breathe some days. At work, the three of us talked about it briefly.

She was so beautiful in her photos. Mesmerizing. We’ve been jealous of her fucking mailman.

We’ve wanted her.

---