Page 79 of The Fire We Crave

It’s late.

She’s tired.

But I can’t bring myself to wait. I shift to kneeling on the bed and roll the condom on. They’re a necessary evil, but I’m taking Quinn to get us both tested tomorrow.

My family line ends when I do.

So, I’ve already taken permanent measures to make that happen. Club life would always involve some club girl trying to trick you into marrying her by getting knocked up.

Even condoms and birth control aren’t always a hundred percent effective.

Technically, neither are vasectomies, but they’re definitely more reliable.

Something makes me bend down and kiss Quinn’s forehead gently. It’s not like me to be tender at a moment like this.

Hell, it’s not like me to be tender, period.

But then, I’ve never had someone I wanted to reassure. Never held someone after a nightmare who wanted nothing more than to comfort me. Never had anyone care about my consent.

“Want you on your knees, sugar. Might be easier with…” I gesture to the scars on my ribs.

She immediately does as I ask, and I love the fast but graceful way she moves her body. Whether it’s while she’s baking or dancing in the kitchen or letting me fuck her.

I move behind her and run my hands down either side of her spine. She stretches like a cat, lengthening the lines of it. I can see the ink she has on her arm bleeds over onto her shoulder, and one day I’ll ask her what it all means.

But it’s delicate fine-line work with splashes of watercolor that looks stunning on her.

I line up my cock, and she wiggles her ass a little to make sure I’m in the right spot. The gesture makes me smile, and I realize my nightmare is long forgotten.

Just as I’m about to thrust, I stop, taking a deep breath.

Not sure why this feels momentous.

More important than the million other times I’ve sunk my cock into someone’s pussy.

This is the very first time it will be Quinn. And in one possible future version of the two of us, it could be the very last time it will be anyone new.

I swallow deeply, burying the thought to pull out and break apart later.

Instead, I press forward into the sweetest fucking pussy.

I’m thick; she’s tight.

The stranglehold is delicious.

I bury myself right into her. Balls squashed up against her. And it’s still not enough.

I want all of her.

“Fuck, sugar.”

Fucking can take all kinds of forms. Solo, a simple release when you need one. A fast fuck, a quickie grabbed because, while you don’t have a lot of time, it’s the only way you can think of spending it, buried in someone who wants you for whatever time you want them. At the other end is a planned scene, one with agreed terms and boundaries. One that takes days to negotiate, building the anticipation.

I’ve fucked strangers. I’ve fucked friends. I’ve even fucked two Outlaws brothers. I’ve fucked more than one person at once. I’ve joined trains fucking a lineup of women.

And I feel absolutely zero shame in any of it.

I’ve enjoyed most of it.

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