Burn (21 page)

“So, what was that new rule you had about not kissing me anymore?” I pant quietly afterwords, standing now and leaning back into him.

I feel his arms circle around me and hold me close; “Fuck the rules.”

After that, it’s like we just say “fuck it” and go wild. After that, it’s basically open season on Quinn and I screwing around any and every chance we get. I even do get to act out the little fantasy I had before of fucking her bent over her desk at work one day, her lips wrapped tightly around my fingers to muffle her screams as she comes like a fucking rocket with me right along with her. Inappropriate touches and lingering looks turn into little squeezes and fondles, even to the point where at one point I’ve got two of my fingers buried deep in her pussy under the table at a power-point presentation, coaxing her to an orgasm that has her scratching her nails across the table-top enamel in the semidarkness of the room.

But of course, we’re also still sneaking around and playing this big game of secrets about the whole thing. I mean, Reagan obviously knows by this point, but I’m still pretty sure that she hasn’t told her husband yet as evident by the distinct lack of Hudson beating me to death with my own arms. Secrets in-and-of themselves aren’t new to me; years of assuming a new name and a new life is a pretty good classroom for keeping truths hidden away. But there’s also not a whole lot I
don’t
tell Hudson and Bryce, so to be adding
this
on top of the whole Javier thing gets under my skin in this weird way.
 

But it’s fun, and it’s wild, and I know somewhere deep inside that it’s probably
more
than that, but neither Quinn or I are touching on that particular facet of it. I catch myself worrying that the thrill of it being this secret affair type thing is what’s fueling the fire between. I wonder if Quinn is just viewing this whole thing as some sort of ongoing casual fling; that little good-girl Quinn’s got a temporary taste for playing with the bad boy. But that train of thought of course leads down an entirely new rabbit hole; one where
I’m
actually having thoughts about whether some girl
likes me
or not.

Yeah, there’s
nothing
about any of that kind of thinking that’s me. But then of course, there’s nothing “some girl” about Quinn, either. She’s just too amazing, in that way where it’s clear she doesn’t quite see that herself. Beyond that,
fuck
is she sexy; again, in a way where it’s clear she doesn’t quite get that either.

So yeah, generally you could say there’s nothing normal about this relationship.

Yeah,
relationship
; because sneaking around like we’re having some sort of illicit affair and fucking around like teenagers in every private and even semi-
public
place we can find is
exactly
how you’d define a healthy a relationship, right?

Right.

“
Stop!
” Quinn looks at me with wide, wild looking eyes as she covers the phone receiver and hisses at me.

“
What
?” I whisper right back, shrugging and resuming the slow advance of my hand up the inside of her thigh under her skirt.
 

“Absolutely, absolutely; well, we’ll need to monitor infection rates in the clinical trials, but it does look promising.”

Quinn’s on some phone call - actually on what I gather is a fairly
important
phone call - with someone in D.C. about a vaccination we might be investing in. Of course the importance of this call does nothing to curb the fact that I’m still alone in a room with Quinn Archer, and as such, I’m naturally taking every liberty I can to be as inappropriately hands-y as possible.

Naturally.
 

Because lingering worries about the nature of our “relationship” aside, I can’t get enough of this girl. It’s bad enough in public, or while we’re in a meeting or something. But here in her office with the door shut and her wearing that little pin-stripe pencil skirt? Yeah, forget it. Her ass just looks too fucking incredible in that thing as she stands by the window talking on the phone, and I am apparently
not
a strong-willed man when it comes to forbidden, auburn-haired girls wearing ass-hugging pencil skirts.

“
Logan!
” She hisses again, looking at me like I’m insane as she nods at something to do with the phone conversation; “Certainly, certainly. No, I’ve got time to go over the analysis now; sure.”

Let’s hope you can multitask, Doc,
I grin to myself.

My hand slides up even higher, and she shivers as my fingers find the warm front of her panties. I push gently against the softness there, feeling her squirm as I start to slowly rub her slit through the cotton of her underwear. Feeling how wet she is immediately has me rock hard in seconds.
 

“Well, preliminary testing has positive neurological feedback.” Quinn’s eyes close as she clearly struggles to keep the even tone in her voice while I rub her pussy; “Mhmm, no, the Watson trials for sure.” Her lip trembles as I hook my finger through the gusset of her panties and slowly begin to tug them down to her mid thighs. But she’s still talking over the phone, and I grin, actually impressed with how normal her voice is sounding despite the fact that her face and her body look like she’s dying to get fucked right here and now.

I push her forward, one of her palms flat against the glass of her big office window as she bends at the waist while still holding the phone. She turns over her shoulder, her eyes wide in shock and arousal as she stares at me before nodding at something to do with her conversation and turning back. I drop to my knees behind her, pushing her skirt up over her ass and pulling her back towards me. I take a second to appreciate the pure, unbridled
eroticism
of this view.

“Well, the secondary analysis
could
be an indication of-
oh!
” Quinn does her best to cover her moan as my mouth finds her dripping wet lips; “Mhmm, no, just some hot coffee.” She whirls her head back to stare at me mouthing
“oh my God
” at me as I grin before pushing my face back between her thighs.
 

I inhale the intoxicating scent of her, slipping my tongue through her folds to taste her sweetness as I feel her shudder against me. My hands grab her ass, kneading the flesh there and coaxing her back and forth against my mouth, as if fucking her with my tongue. She’s rocking back against me, her fingers scratching at the windowpane in front of her as she arches her back and pushed against my tongue.
 

“Mhmm, yes absolutely. The research is- uh, it’s there, we just-
mmm
, we just need to- um, expand on it.”

I slip lower, teasing her clit with the tip of my tongue before wrapping my lips around her there and sucking as I feel her shudder against me. She’s putting up a valiant fight to keep this phone call going, but its’s a fight I’m doing my damnedest to make her lose sooner or later. And when I curl my tongue around her hard little clit and slide a finger deep into her channel, she actually has to hold the phone away from her mouth as she gasps out loud.

“I- I’m sorry, but I have to call you back in a minute,” She manages to gasp out, before hanging up and dropping the phone to the floor; “
Fuck
, Logan!” She moans, pressing her hands against the glass in front of her and crying out as she pushes back against my tongue and my finger.

And all it take is five more seconds of my tongue sliding over her hard little nub and my finger curling against that spot inside before she’s turning her head to bite her own shoulder. Her muffled moans come ragged against the sleeve of her blouse as I push her over the edge, and she comes in shuddering, exploding elegance against my tongue.
 

Her hair is loosed from the normally conservative bun atop her head and cascades over her face as she closes her eyes and sucks in breaths of air, but I’m already standing and tearing at my belt buckle. I’m rock hard as my pants hit the ground, and as I slip the head of my cock against her opening, I lean over her to whisper into her ear; “You can go ahead and call them back in a minute, darlin, but something tells me it’s going to be a
bit
longer than that.”

And it damn well is.

“So, you two seem like you’re fitting together nicely.”

I almost choke on my steak as I quickly glance up across the table at Hudson. He’s grinning at me, but I’m certain it’s more of a ‘I told you so’ look than a ‘hey buddy, I know you’re fucking Quinn’ look. He’s also not jumping over the table to murder me with his salad fork, so that’s a pretty good indication of choice number one.
 

Of course, that doesn’t mean my pulse isn’t pounding like a fucking racehorse now. Yeah, dinner out with Hudson and Reagan,
and
Quinn was probably not a great plan. I’m sure this has double-date written all over it to anyone else in the restaurant, or our waiter for that matter, and that simple fact has me on wild edge right now. Fooling around like teenagers all over town and in the office is one thing, but playing
couple
out in public has this strange sort of serious undertone to it that has me more confused than it should.

And then there’s also something about the way that Reagan’s curious gaze keeps lingering a little longer on me than necessary. I know she’s no idiot; even if she doesn’t explicitly
know
- and I’m pretty sure she does - she pretty obviously has a good
idea
. I’ll grant though that she probably hasn’t said anything to Hudson yet or he’d have tossed me out a window already.

The thought of that actually pisses me off a little bit. Here I am sneaking around with this girl like it’s a big damn taboo thing, when he’s up and
married
another of the Old Man’s daughters. But he and Reagan look so fucking
happy
, and hell,
he
broke whatever rules we had first. ‘
Protect them’
; I mean don’t think William
exactly
meant ‘don’t date my daughters’
with those words, but I seriously doubt he’d be impressed with a roughneck grunt like me fooling around with Quinn like this. It’s different with Hudson and Reagan. Hud’s learned to
deal
with his shit, instead of like me who just hides it.