Page 20 of Body Lock

Chapter Four

Quinn

The subway was a place I loathed. It was always full of hoards of people, squished together liked canned tuna. I fucking hated it. I wanted to walk back, but she insisted we needed to get to the bar quickly.

There were two options, walk or take the train. With the amount of traffic, a taxi would be pointless, and according to Cadence, time was limited.

The only bonus to this ride was standing hip to hip with her. I had been inches away from fucking her in that bathroom. Had it not been for the hesitance she had, I would have ripped her damn pants off.

My cock was aching to slide into her silky, wet pussy. Her hard nipples had pressed against my chest, poking out from her shirt, calling me to bite them.

Since we left the diner, she wouldn't look me straight in the eyes. Instead, they darted around my body, looking every where but at me directly. She would stare at my arms, my chest, even my tongue as I spoke.

I knew Cadence wanted me just as badly as I wanted her. It rolled off her body like a waterfall, flowing from every piece of her flesh. Each prickle that burst off her skin with the slightest touch of my hand caused my cock to thicken.

Purposely, I would trail my fingers over her neck, and run them gently down her hand. With each touch she would tremble, I could see her body shudder. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't stop herself from reacting to me.

And I fucking loved it.

The reaction was thrilling. I wanted to watch her squirm beside me, forcing herself to hold back. Her tongue would run over her lips, her head would tilt with each subtle stroke.

But secretly, I wanted to make sure every asshole on this train knew she was mine.

Once we hit the sidewalk, she walked three feet in front of me, her pace quickening with each stride. Occasionally, she would glance over her shoulder to see if I was still there.

And I couldn't stop wondering what she meant back at the diner. Her words played on repeat in my head, 'I'm fucked.' But it wasn't fitting in my brain, she didn't do anything wrong.

Was this meeting also to prove that she was telling the truth?

Did her father question what had happened?

Cadence paused at the entrance to Whiskey Sour, her fingers gripping the handle softly, face leaning towards the ground. “Okay, before we go in, I do want to say thank you, and I mean that.” A thin smile pulled gently across her cheeks as her eyes mollified her feelings.

I wanted to kiss her again, run my tongue over the velvet touch of her lips. Deep down, my stomach twisted from a tactile sensation that I hadn't experienced before.

Reaching my arm out, I squeezed her shoulder. The lean muscles tensed, and her back straightened. Cadence drew in a long sullen breath as she tugged the door open.

Standing behind her, a whirl of her perfume slapped against my face. The scent was erotic, yanking on my nose to lean in closer.

Damn! Even her smell is a fucking turn on.

The hair on my neck raised up, cock stiffening. I wanted to grab her ass, tear into her with my massive, throbbing hard-on.

Her pussy had been warm to the touch earlier, she wanted me, I knew that for sure. The heated cunt, slippery between her thighs, had called for me.

And I was ready—had been ready, to fuck her like she's never felt before.

But the moment she stepped inside that building, her whole demeanor changed. A wave of seriousness flooded her expression; her jaw was held in tight, eyes contracted, squeezing their natural impulse to move.

This was her domain, her place of existence.

Being here with the sun shining high above the sky was strange. I'd never been in a bar before happy hour, and never left seeing completely straight.

A milky colored hue floated over the room, streams of light poured in from the ceiling above through glass tinted a dull shade of yellow.

I hadn't noticed the skylights the night before; then again, how often do you look up when you're out getting shitfaced?

Our feet echoed across the empty space, hers were much lighter, mimicking the soft tap of ballet slippers. A translucent mirage of her dancing around serving drinks coated my brain, my head felt suffocated, drained from the oxygen being squeezed out.

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