15. Quentin

SpottingVogue ducking away from campus towards her flat, I jog to catch up with her as she walks, the late afternoon light turning everything golden around us. The campus is buzzing with students heading home, but all that fades into the background when I see her.

"Hey," I call out, and she slows down, turning to face me with a curious tilt of her head. "Got any plans tonight?"

Vogue shakes her head, her eyes on mine. There's a spark in them that always gets my heart thumping just a bit harder.

"Want to grab some food with me? I can pick you up in an hour."

She considers it for a moment, then nods. "Sure, I'll go change."

"No need for anything fancy. Keep it comfortable." I flash her a smile, hoping to convey some of the casual ease I'm not quite feeling as I take this unfamiliar step.

"Comfortable, got it." She gives me a small, enigmatic smile before heading into her building.

As I head back to my car—a sleek black Mercedes that still feels too extravagant even though I've driven it for months—I can't shake off the image of her walking away from me. My fingers brush over the cool leather of the steering wheel as I slide inside, firing up the engine. It purrs to life, a subtle reminder of the world I was born into but never grew up in, one of wealth and danger.

I drive through town, the streets familiar yet distant. Everything about my old life feels like it belongs to someone else now. I pull up at the local takeaway place, a nondescript joint with the best burgers and fries in Crestmont, which is not hard, but still pretty fucking tasty. I order the food and a couple of drinks and wait. I'm sure Callum would try to impress her with a fancy restaurant and expensive wine, but I get the feeling she will appreciate this more.

When the food is ready, I snatch up the paper bag and drinks tray, and with it all safely stashed in the Merc, I make my way back to her flat. She's waiting outside, even though I'm early, looking like she stepped out of one of those paintings you see in stuffy art galleries. She's all long lines and soft curves in a flowery dress that brushes against her calves, flat shoes, and a black denim jacket. Her hair cascades in waves, catching the last of the sunlight.

For a second, I just sit there and watch her, struck by the sight. Vogue isn't like the girls I used to know. She's real in ways that leave me feeling raw, like she could see right through the walls I've built up over the years.

"Hey, Quen," she says, shortening my name with a grin after pulling open the car door and sliding into the seat beside me. Her presence fills the car, and suddenly, it's the best place in the world.

"Hey yourself," I reply, trying to sound smooth and not like I'm completely floored by her simple beauty. "You do know you should've waited for me to come and get you."

"Don't need you to watch over me like a hawk. I grew up in Westfield. I can handle waiting outside in the daylight for my… date."

"Date." The way she says it makes it seem sexy and deep. I hope that is where this goes.

I indicate the bag of food on the back seat. "Hope you're hungry."

"Starving," she says, and there's laughter in her voice, easy and free, "and burgers are my favourite."

"Good."

My heart is thumping, and nerves are making me want to slam my foot down to try to run away from them, but I keep it steady as we roll through town. My cargo is precious, and I need to keep her safe. The buildings and streets pass us by as we head up the winding road to the hilltop.

"Nice spot you've picked," Vogue says, her eyes scanning the view as we park in a space that looks like it was made just for us.

"Best one in town," I tell her, grabbing the food and blanket from the back before climbing out. I lay the blanket out on the grass, all neat and squared off, as Vogue steps out and helps me spread it wider, her hands brushing against mine, sending signals I'm doing my best to ignore for now.

We sit down, the skyline of the town painting a picture in front of us that could be worth a thousand words, but I don't say any of them. Instead, I hand her a burger wrapped in paper and some fries, placing the drinks in their cardboard tray between us and popping the tops on the cans.

"Cheers," she says, lifting her drink in a makeshift toast before taking a long sip.

"Cheers," I echo, tapping my can against hers.

We eat, and the silence isn't awkward—it's comfortable, filled with a soothing silence and the occasional rustle of leaves around us.

"Never thought I'd enjoy a simple burger this much," she muses, wiping her mouth delicately with the paper napkin.

"Life's surprising like that," I respond.

Her eyes hold mine for a moment longer than necessary. "Yeah, it is," she replies with a smile.

I stare at her, mesmerised. Her eyes are on the horizon. She's got this way of looking at things, like she's drinking it all in, and it makes me want to see the world through her eyes.

"Vogue," I say, and my voice sounds rough even to my own ears. She turns, eyes questioning, and something about the way she looks at me right now—like I'm the only person in the world—grabs hold of my guts and twists.

The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue. They're simple, honest, but they feel like a leap off a cliff. "I need to tell you something." My hands are steady, but inside, everything's churning.

She tilts her head, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and waits. Always patient, that's Vogue. The burger forgotten, she gives me her full attention, but that seems to make it harder.

"You've kinda turned my life upside down," I start, and her eyebrows rise a fraction. "In a good way, I mean. Since you walked into my life, everything's brighter, somehow." I pause, watching her face for any sign, but she's an enigma. I plough on, because if I don't say it now, I might never get the balls again. "I've seen things, been through stuff that would break most people. But you—" I shake my head, amazed. "You just light up the dark spots without even trying. And I want to be there for you, protect you from the shit that life throws out, because yesterday, you gave me something that I've never had before. A foundation to rebuild my shattered soul. I owe you everything for that."

Her lips part slightly, like she's processing and calculating, and I brace for whatever comes next. I've laid it out bare, my heart kicking against my ribs like it's trying to escape.

For a moment, there's silence between us. I can't move, can't even breathe. Her mouth closes, and she swallows hard. When she speaks, her voice is soft but steady.

"With you, it's different to the past. I feel something real, and it scares me a little because it's so rare to find someone who gets me."

Her confession punches me right in the gut. It's exposed, honest. She's trusting me with a piece of herself no one else gets to see.

"Vogue," I say, and it's more than just her name; it's everything I'm feeling right now. I lean over, closing the distance, and my lips meet hers.

The kiss is a world-shaking kind of thing. It starts slow like we're both testing the waters, but then it catches fire. My brain goes quiet, and all I can think about, all I can feel, is her. Her lips, her breath, her hands as they come up to cup the back of my neck.

We break apart for air, and the sun decides to put on a show just for us, painting the sky all shades of oranges and pinks. The fading light wraps around us, and we're not just two people kissing; we're sharing something unspoken, something that's growing stronger by the second.

The fire from our kiss rages into an inferno, the kind that burns away all thought except for the need, the raw hunger clawing inside me. My hands pull her closer, and I can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her dress. She's a flame, and I'm all too willing to fly into it and be scorched.

"Quen," she gasps, breaking the kiss, her voice heavy with desire. Her eyes search mine, dark and wild, telling me she's right there with me, on the edge of something reckless.

I don't wait another second. With an urgency that matches the pounding in my chest, my hands slide up the outside of her thighs, pushing her dress up around her hips. My fingers hook onto her panties, and when she doesn't stop me, I pull them aside as she helps, lifting her hips. Sinking my finger into her pussy, I groan, kissing her again as I press her into the blanket, covering her body with mine. She's wet and hot, and I need my cock inside her right fucking now.

Her breath hitches, eyes falling shut, a little sound escaping her that's all pleasure and want. I look down at her, this fierce woman who makes me feel like I'm more than the sum of my fucked-up parts. My hand trails up her body, over her stomach, to her breasts. She arches into my touch, and I can't wait another goddamn second.

With one hand holding me steady, I unzip my pants. My cock springs free, stiff and aching for her. She opens her eyes with this look of raw hunger that's just for me. It's nearly enough to make me spurt my load all over her.

"Quen," she whispers again, reaching down to wrap her tiny hand around my cock.

"You sure about this?" It's the one and only time she will hear me ask this.

"Yes."

It's all I need. As she guides me to her pussy, I push my cock inside her slowly, trying to keep control because if I don't, this will be over too damn fast. Her fingers dig into my shoulders like she's holding on for dear life.

"Yes," she pants out as I fill her completely.

I set a rhythm of deep thrusts because I need to feel every inch of her cunt around me.

She soaks my cock as I grind into her, needing so much more of her.

"Faster," she breathes out, and I oblige without hesitation. My hips slam against hers with an urgency that has us both spiralling towards something monumental. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I can feel every pulse of her pussy clenching around me.

"Fuck, Vogue," I grunt as the pressure builds inside me, needing to break free.

I can tell she's close, too; her body trembles beneath me, her eyes fluttering. Her pussy tightens around me like a vice, and I know we're seconds away from shattering together.

"Come for me, Vogue. I need to feel you possessing me."

"Fuck, Quen," she gasps, arching her back as her cunt clamps down on my cock practically snapping it in half.

That's all it takes for me to lose it. With a few more powerful thrusts, I come hard inside her, spilling myself with a guttural groan that is loud in this quiet space, but I don't give a shit if I look up and the world is watching.

Vogue's shuddering breaths ease, and she looks at me, eyes wide, and then glances shyly around. "I've never done that before."

"What?" I croak but then frown.

"In public," she giggles. "It was freeing knowing anyone could walk in on us."

Chuckling, I pull out of her and stash my dick before I tug her panties back into place and lower her dress. "Next time, I'll take you someplace where that could be an even stronger possibility."

"Ah," she gasps, slapping my shoulder lightly. "You're so bad."

"Need you," I murmur and fall to her lips again, thrusting my tongue into her mouth like a starving man.

Her hands come up to my face, as she deepens the kiss and I fall head over ass in love with her.

She is everything.

She is my everything.