Page 71 of Dysfunctional

“Yes, oh god.”

He strokes slowly at first, teasing me with his grip. I grind back and forth and open my eyes to find him watching me. He nearly takes my breath away with the unbridled lust in his gaze.

“You said you wouldn’t look at me like that,” I whisper huskily.

“Like what?”

“Like I was the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.”

“You’re not,” he breathes, stroking faster. “Pretty isn’t a word I’d use to describe you. You’re volatile and arousing. You’re captivating and dangerous.” He moans when I rock into him. “You’re absolutely devastating.”

I close my eyes and drop my head back, soaking up his words. His hand picks up speed at the same time my hips do. His other hand comes to rest on the side of my neck, his thumb brushing over my Adam’s apple.

“Quin.” His name leaves my lips on a whisper. “Oh god.”

He grips my face tightly. “Look at me.”

My eyelids flutter open and meet his penetrating gaze. “I’m so close.”

His lips are on mine in a flash, his tongue plundering my mouth. It’s our first kiss, after all this time, and it’s earth-shattering.

I never thought twice about the fact that he hadn’t kissed me. He didn’t come off as the type. I was happy enough to have his eyes on me when we were in the same room, to have his hands on me when we fucked. Even felt myself lucky to be on the other end of his blade because I knew he was capable of killing me, like many others, and yet never did. I didn’t think I was missing out until now.

His kiss is possessive, but I fight for control. Our tongues dance together until I suck his into my mouth. He forces us even closer by placing his hand at the back of my head and not allowing me to escape the lashing of his tongue. He swallows my moans while I taste his desire.

This kiss isn’t a regular kiss. It’s not simply lips meeting lips and the soft brush of tongues. He’s brutal and demanding, wanting to lick and taste every square inch of my mouth. His free hand roams my body, rubbing and squeezing. I thread my fingers in his hair before cupping his jaw and growling into his mouth. We devour each other for a long while, his hand still on my cock, though his movements paused during our kiss.

He pulls away, both of us breathing heavily as we stare at each other. That kiss was the most honest form of communication we’ve had.

“Give me your tongue,” he commands.

I stick it out as far as it’ll stretch and watch as he takes the tip between his lips and slowly sucks it into his mouth, repeating the movement the way I want him to do on my cock. He moans and it sends a jolt of electricity down my spine, energizing me. I rise and fall on his dick until my orgasm builds to a breaking point.

The noises I make are shameless. Quintin releases my tongue, his lips glistening with my saliva. “I want every last drop.”

Another sinful moan leaves my throat. I’ve never felt so out of control with lust. I’m dying to come, but also want to live right here on the edge, where everything is heightened and sensitive.

“I don’t want it to end,” I admit.

“We’re just getting started,” he growls. “Now come for me. Paint my skin with your release.”

“Oh shit!”

My orgasm hits hard, cum shooting from my cock and landing on his stomach.

“Oh yeah,” he groans, watching me make a mess.

“Fuck,” I pant. “Oh my god.”

Once he’s squeezed everything from me, he grabs my waist and lifts me up just to impale me on his cock. He does this over and over, hard and fast.

“Oh, fuck.” He moans, his muscles flexing as he continues to control me. “Oh, god. Yeah.” Cries of pleasure leave his lips as he shatters, his cock twitching inside me as he comes.

We suck in deep breaths, moaning and cursing as we continue to live in the euphoria of each other.

* * *

I wakeup Sunday morning in Quin’s bed and find myself alone. After taking a piss, I go through his bathroom drawers and find three unopened packages of toothbrushes stacked neatly. The cabinet under his sink is orderly, extra body wash and lotions in a neat row next to rolls of toilet paper and unused loofahs.

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