Chapter 17

Quentin

It's because my ribs are already bruised, but when Felix slams his fist into my side, I grunt. Pain spikes across my nerve-endings. I feel the skin tear open further, and blood begins to drip down my side. He follows it up with an upper cut, which I don't avoid. I'm not going to hit my son—though, considering I already slapped him; the point is probably moot. But what I did was wrong. He's a grown-up, an adult… And I shouldn't have insulted him like that.

But I'm not going to fight with my son, especially knowing I'm stronger than him and could seriously injure him.

The fact I'm not defending myself seems to anger Felix further. He sets his jaw; his eyes flash. Then he pulls back his fist and lets it fly. The angle is such, I know it's going to connect with my jaw. I brace for it, but at the last moment, Raven slams into him with all her weight.

His fist whistles by my ear, the breeze cool on my sweat drenched skin.

"Stop it." She shoves at his shoulder. "Stop it right now."

Felix shakes his head, then he looks between us. He opens his mouth, as if to speak, then shakes his head again and stomps away.

Her features fall. She begins to go after him, but I curl my fingers around her bicep. "Let him cool off."

"But—"

Felix tears open the door, barrels through it and slams it behind him. The crash resounds around the apartment.

Her shoulders droop. "This is not good."

She's right. "I was wrong in raising my hand on him, but"—I jut out my chin—"he insulted you. He shouldn't have done that." I release her and drag my palm over the short bristles on my scalp. "It's my fault he's angry. My fault he grew up feeling abandoned. I wasn't there for him when he needed me most. I was too busy pursuing my own career. I put my interests before his. I might have made sure he didn't want for material things, but emotionally, I was unavailable to my own son."

She purses her lips. "And his mother?"

I feel that old resentment rising to the surface, feel my defensive walls going up again. "I don't want to talk about her."

Her features crumple. The light goes out of her eyes, and goddamn, if I don't feel like the worst person alive for doing that to her. She turns and begins to walk into the bedroom, but I stop her with a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, that came out way harsher than I intended."

"That's okay. We're almost strangers and this whatever-it-is between us is all based on lies." She stares straight ahead. "I shouldn't have asked that question."

"You should have absolutely asked that question, and I know how your cunt tastes, so we're not strangers. Besides, nothing between us is lies."

She draws in a sharp breath, and when I walk around to stand in front of her, I see the red blotches on her cheeks. "You're filthy."

"And you like it." I take in the feverish look in her eyes, and I know I'm right.

"Can you not constantly refer to my?—"

"Pussy?"

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Yes, that. Can you not bring that part of me into every conversation."

"How can I not when I can smell the scent of your arousal, and taste the honey of your cum, and see how your nipples are outlined against your blouse?"

Her eyelids snap open. Her pupils are dilated. The pulse at the base of her throat kicks up in speed. If I were to touch her now, she'd come in a heartbeat. No matter what other issues are between us, when it comes to our bodies, there's a bond that neither of us needs to fake. I understand her on a primal level, and she can't help but respond to my demands. We understand each other's unspoken cues. We were drawn to each other from the moment we met. I know how to make her scream and she… can reduce me to putty. She has so much power over me. Good thing she doesn't know it yet.

I'm not stupid enough to think I deserve her, but… I also owe it to myself to convince her that I'm right for her. It's that which makes me fold to my knees in front of her.

Her lips part. A look of surprise is on her face, which turns to lust when I run my hands up her calves, then continue up the backs of her legs, lifting her skirt with the momentum. I squeeze her ample butt cheeks, move up further, then move my hands over her hips and across her lower belly, working my way back down the front to her inner thighs. I go slowly, very slowly, giving her every opportunity to back away or stop me, but she does neither. Instead, she swallows, then parts her legs further, giving me better access. I slip my hand up and under the seam of her wet panties, and when I brush up against her slit, she shudders. And when I stuff three fingers inside her, she cries out and grabs at my head.

She tries to pull at my hair, but since I have a military-style crew cut, it means her nails scrabble across my scalp. A flash of pain stabs my neck. It clears my mind further. Turns my already rigid muscles to granite. My senses sharpen; my vision tunnels.

This… This is why I was put on this earth, to make this goddess come. To keep her happy and fulfilled and satisfied and ensure she's never goes a few hours without an orgasm.

I pull aside her panties with my other hand, then slide my palm around to cup her butt, both to stabilize her and so I can feel the give of her flesh. She's not skinny, my Raven; she's exactly how I like her to be. Curvy, sensuous, and with enough jiggling bits I can hold on to as I ravish her.

I weave my fingers in and out of her, and she gasps. And when I press my thumb into the nub between her pussy lips, she throws back her head.

"Q, please, please, please," she chants.

"Do you want to come?"

She nods.

"Good, because I want you to spray that sweet cum of yours all over my face." I pull out my fingers and replace them with my tongue and lips. I use both my hands to squeeze her butt cheeks and angle her so I can flick my tongue in and out of her, in and out.

She whimpers, moans, and wails. I note, she wails again. I store the sounds in my memory, knowing nothing has sounded more erotic to me than the sound of her helpless gallop toward her orgasm.

I keep my gaze on the curve of her neck, the way she writhes and moves her hips, meeting every thrust of my tongue. The way she pushes her cunt into my face, knowing I can satisfy this hunger within her. I eat her out, and slurp at her pussy lips, and when I squeeze apart her butt cheeks, she moans. When I play with her forbidden hole, she gasps.

Her eyelids flutter open, and she looks down at me, with my thumb inside her back channel and my tongue inside her cunt. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. All the better, for then, I close my mouth around her swollen clit, while releasing my hold on her butt long enough to stuff four fingers of my other hand inside her pussy. And when I twist those fingers and touch her G-spot while stuffing my thumb past the ring of muscle of her back hole to stimulate her A-spot, she cries out and orgasms.

The gush of cum from between her thighs flows into my mouth. I lick it up, tasting it and swallowing every last drop. And when she sways, I straighten her panties and her skirt, then rise to my feet and haul her up in my arms. I stalk toward the doorway, pausing to scoop up her handbag on the way out.

She manages to crack open her eyelids and look up into my face. "Where are you taking me?"

"Home." I kiss her forehead. "I'm taking you home."