24. Chapter 24

Everyone is meeting up at The Eagles' Nest tonight, since the football team has a late afternoon home game tomorrow. I don't normally pass up a Friday night out, but I'm just not feeling it.

Truthfully, my head is all over the place. Every time my thoughts drift off, I go back to Chicago and Quinton being dared to kiss me. How he didn't hesitate and how it felt to kiss him. I thought for sure it'd feel awkward, but it didn't. And I know we went so much further than kissing, but we never would've gotten to that point without that dare. The kiss just felt so monumental.

It felt good. Damn good. My body buzzed.

And then waking up with him in my bed this morning felt so natural. And then, as if I wasn't already on edge, Professor Peters's encounter was just off-putting.

Instead of going out and getting drunk, I told the girls I was meeting a guy. Which wasn't a lie. It's why I find myself standing in front of a black door outside of the Football House. It's quiet, no loud music, and the lights are off. I don't even know if anyone is home. Before I talk myself out of it, I ring the doorbell and wait. And wait some more. Just as I'm about to turn and walk away, the front door swings open.

Quinton is standing in front of me in a pair of athletic shorts, no shirt. And my eyes trail over every muscle. They gaze over the large eagle that is tattooed across his muscled chest and the large cross that is tattooed on his right rib cage before skimming over his abs and landing on the deep V that points down to his very impressive asset. That same asset I had in my hand this morning. My cheeks flush red, and I lick my lips before snapping my eyes up to Q's. He's already staring at me, waiting for me to finish my shameless perusal of his strong, dark, and athletic body.

"You done?" he asks with a smirk.

Heat spreads across my chest, and I can only manage a nod. Opening the door wider, he gestures for me to come in.

"What are you doing here, Brynn?"

Hearing my first name on his lips instead of my last name is a shock to the system.

"I thought we should talk."

Closing the door behind me, Quinton just stares at me before turning and heading toward the staircase. This might be Quinton's house, but we never hang out in the main living area unless there's a party or a group of us hanging out. Quinton has always retreated to his room, and that's where we head.

"Yeah, we should," he tosses over his shoulder, leading us upstairs.

Following him, I take stock of the house. It's super clean, which is surprising since there are five college men that live here. Quinton has the primary bedroom that's on the left side of the house, while the other three bedrooms are on the right side. The third floor was turned into a fifth bedroom and another rec room. Quinton steps into his room first, and I'm not surprised to see his room is clean and organized. I"ve never met a guy as tidy as Quinton. He hates messes, which is why he's constantly picking up my room. The only things out of place are the books on his desk. Looks like I was interrupting his homework time.

"Want anything to drink?" Quinton asks, grabbing a Gatorade out of his mini fridge.

Shaking my head, I answer him, "I'm good. Thanks. If I'm interrupting, I can come back later."

He takes a drink of his lemon-lime drink and just stares at me. His eyes bore into me, and I feel exposed.

"No, we are talking. Everything is weird, and I can't take it anymore."

Making my way over to his bed, I kick off my tennis shoes and climb onto his bed. Realizing that I can't cross my legs since I'm still in my skirt, I bend my legs to the side, placing a pillow in my lap, just in case.

"I'm not trying to be weird, Q. I just—I just don't know how to be around you."

Shock crosses his face and contorts into hurt.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Quinton doesn't join me on the bed like usual. Instead he leans against his desk, facing me.

His position mirrors that of Professor Peters. While Peters made me feel uncomfortable, all I want is for Quinton to shrink the space between us. I want to feel his hands caressing my skin while I watch his muscles flex with every movement.

"It means you kissed me. And I liked it," I whisper, looking down at my lap.

He doesn't say anything, and I refuse to look up. I can't believe I just said that. Exposing my feelings isn't something that I do. It's raw and real and feels unnatural but also perfectly natural. The pause has gone on almost too long. I sneak a glance up and see him staring at me.

Pushing off the desk, Quinton takes two large strides before he's erased the space between us. Following my gaze up to him, I see the darkness in his eyes. Before I have a chance to say anything, two large hands are grabbing the side of my face, forcing my head up to meet him. Our eyes bounce back and forth, soaking each other in, trying to guess what the other is thinking.

And then his lips are on me.

Soft, powerful lips are crushing mine. His tongue lashes out, running across my lower lip. Begging me to open for him. And I do. Our tongues meet and begin dueling with fervor. A moan slips from the back of my throat, but that only urges Quinton on more. He's coaxing my body down onto his mattress, his hand sliding in between us, grabbing the pillow I had in my lap, tossing it aside. Once the pillow is out of our way, his hand is back on me, running down my body. My legs open and his large body fits perfectly in the open space. It feels like too much. It feels passionate. It feels like we've been fighting our feelings for way too damn long.

My body feels like an electric shock from my head, down my chest, and settling in my core. Our bodies are moving together, and the only things separating us are his athletic shorts and a tiny scrap of fabric covering my pussy. The denim skirt I'm wearing is bunched around my hips. I wonder if he can feel how wet I am for him. Thank God he has black shorts on, or there'd be evidence of my arousal in his lap. Quinton pulls away from my mouth and starts kissing his way down to my neck, finding that sensitive spot below my ear.

My chest is heaving, and I'm so wrapped up in what he's doing to my neck that I don't feel his hand traveling from my thigh to my center. His pointer finger slides across the fabric, and he growls into my neck. He sucks the sensitive skin into his mouth before pulling away to look at me.

"Christ, Wilder, you're soaked." He watches my reaction; no doubt he can see how turned on I am. "Is all this for me?"

Words are hard. My best friend just kissed me into blissful oblivion. All I can do is nod my head. Grabbing the back of his neck, I pull him back down to meet my lips. I can feel how hard he is for me. He's even harder now than he was this morning. Quinton takes his pointer finger and goes back to rubbing me. Sliding the thin piece of fabric to the side, he slips his finger inside me. A long gasp escapes my lips, and I moan. It only fuels him as he begins to pump his finger inside of me, then slips a second digit to meet the first. Using his thumb, he applies pressure to the bundle of nerves that are pulsing for attention.

"Oh, God," I cry out, meeting his movement.

"No baby, it's just me," he says, going back to devouring my neck.

I'm close. So close. He must sense it too, because his movement quickens. His fingers work faster, hooking to hit that spot deep inside me, while his thumb applies more pressure to my clit.

"Quinton!" I scream, not even caring if there's anyone in the house or not. "Oh, oh. I-I-I'm coming!"

"Let go, Wilder. Come for me," he says, looking up at me.

He's watching, waiting for me to come apart. And that's all it takes. I'm coming, moaning, and screaming his name. Body shaking, chest heaving, I come back down to reality. Quinton Boyd just made me come again. Come hard and fast. And I loved it. He slides his fingers from inside me, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean. I moan again, questioning if I could come again from just watching that.

His mouth finds mine again. Our lips fuse together, and I open, allowing his tongue to enter. I moan at the taste of myself. He grunts at my response before pulling away with a sexy smirk.

"You like tasting yourself on me, don't you?"

"You already know I fucking love it," I respond, reaching up to pull him back down to me.

Our tongues find each other, dueling and tasting each other.

My hand roams from his neck to his front. Grazing my fingers down the ridges of his abs, I feel him shudder beneath me. A thrill runs through me, spurring me on. Continuing my journey, I find his long, hard cock. Gripping him through his shorts, he groans against my lips.

"Fuck, Wilder," he hisses between clenched teeth.

I'm dying to repay him. I begin stroking him over the silky material of his shorts. Another moan. Another shiver. And I know what I need to do.

In one swift movement, I shove him off me and roll off the bed. Before he has a chance to speak, I'm kneeling on the floor, looking up at him through hooded, lust-filled eyes. A devilish smirk spreads across my lips before running my tongue over my bottom lip.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Q asks, bringing himself to a sitting position, legs hanging off the side of his bed, erection tenting his pants.

I chuckle before responding. "Have you never had a girl get on her knees for you?"

"I mean, yeah, but you don't have to do this. I don't expect anything in return…" he trails off.

"Shut the hell up and let me put that cock in my mouth, so I can taste you too."

"Jesus Christ, Wilder," he rushes out, getting on his feet in front of me. "Keep talking like that, and I'm going to come right now."

Without saying another word, I reach for the waistband of his shorts. Slowly, I pull them down, watching his cock spring free. Letting the material pool at his feet, I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his thick dick. My eyes watch him as I begin to pump him in my hands. Watching him watch my hand, I increase the pace. His eyes flutter before closing, and that's when I lean forward, licking the bead of precum off his tip.

A moan escapes both of us. No longer willing to wait, I take him in my mouth. His crown slips past my lips as I slowly suck him in. Working my way down and opening my throat to take all of him.

"So big," I mumble around him.

"Fuck," he responds.

I continue to bob my head as I suck and pump him with my fist.

"Shit, Wilder," he grumbles, his hand finding the back of my head. "You feel so good sucking my cock, taking me in your throat."

I moan against him as his words affect me. His hips thrust as he works my head until he's fucking my face. I continue to hollow my cheeks, sucking him as I let him take control.

"I'm coming!" he yells his quick warning before he's spurting his hot seed in my mouth.

Sucking every last drop from him, I pull away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Sitting back on my feet, I take in the man in front of me. His eyes are wide, his chest heaving, and he's a picture of a satisfied man. It's hot seeing him come undone, especially at my hands—well, my mouth.

"Thanks for the warning, Q. But I'm no quitter," I say with confidence. "And I loved tasting you."

"Shit, Wilder," he rasps out. "I'm going to be hard again."

"What's wrong with that?" I ask, shrugging.

"I, uh, wasn't expecting that tonight," he admits bashfully.

Reaching down, he grabs me under my arms and pulls me so that I'm standing in front of him.

Stretching on my toes, I kiss him.

"I mean, I'm not complaining."

We both chuckle, and that seems to snap us out of our heated exchange.

"But we should probably talk."

He sits on the bed, moving until his back is resting against his headboard. Extending his arm out, he pulls me so that my back is resting against his front.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Quinton says, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on my neck.

Now that we've opened up the door, he can't keep his hands off me. I wonder how long he's been holding back on the urge to touch me. To show me his feelings. And why did it take us so long?

Sighing, he rests his head against the headboard as I burrow into his embrace.

"I want to give us a go, Wilder. It's been building, and these feelings I have aren't going away. I tried. I tried to fight them, because I can't lose you. You're too important to me."

Turning my head, I find his gaze.

"Well, it's safe to say our friendship has just gotten stronger. See five minutes ago for proof." I let out a small laugh. "But if we're going to try this, you need to be patient with me. I haven't dated in a long time, not since—not since Asher. And he was the only one."

His arms tighten around me. It feels weird to be having this conversation today. A day after the day.

"Wilder, I've been patient for two years. I'll give you whatever time you need. Just, just be mine." His expression is so wholesome, so vulnerable.

I spin, getting on my knees to face him. Grabbing his face, I lower myself to kiss him.

"Thank you," I whisper against his lips.

Before I can pull away, he stops me.

"But if we're going to give this a go, I want to be exclusive. I'm not sharing you with anyone else. You're mine, Wilder."

"I'm yours, Quinton."