Something Like Redemption (Something Like Normal #2) (16 page)

His hands are still clutching my ass, and with each lick, each suck of me, his hands squeeze each cheek, revealing just how turned on he is. His rough stubble brushes over my folds, and I bite my lip, tasting blood. That feeling alone, combined with the satisfied noises coming from Quinn’s mouth, is enough to have me approaching a speedy release.

As he circles around my clit and strikes me with one hard flick, I loudly come undone, my body convulsing and almost collapsing, my spaghetti arms only
just
holding me up. I cry out when Quinn keeps his clever tongue inside of me, swallowing my ripples of pleasure, and suddenly he begins tonguing me again, my hyper-sensitive insides deliciously burning.

I scream, my head slamming against the wall time and time again, and my legs threaten to give out from under me as Quinn pulls his mouth away, replacing his tongue with two long fingers.

“Fuck,” I wheeze when I look down, watching the way his fingers are skillfully pumping in and out of me.

I’m turned on beyond belief by the visual, but my legs give out when a sliver of light catches off Quinn’s face and I see my juices coating his swollen lips. I collapse, but Quinn wraps a strong hand around my waist, steadying me. His other hand never misses a beat as he fingers me relentlessly.

My arms have pins and needles from keeping them clutched above my head, but that’s the only thing holding me up, as my legs are about to buckle. Quinn senses my fatigue, and removes his fingers from deep within.

I protest with a sigh and he chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Wrap your legs around my shoulders.”

I don’t question why and simply do it, and because he’s on his knees, I easily wrap both around him, my back leaning against the wall, my jelly legs sighing in relief. But that relief turns into want as Quinn places a hand under my ass, the other at my waist, angling me at a perfect height for his mouth and tongue.

I cry out louder than before as my tissues feel swollen and sore, but the pain is beyond pleasurable, it’s almost more heightened this time around. As he buries his face deeper than I thought humanly possible between my legs, I can’t help but think he’s going to work me over until I die, because this feeling is one of pure euphoria.

Squeezing my thighs tightly around him, I try not to strangle him as I cross my boots over his shoulders and arch backward, granting him deeper access to my needy core. I’m so close to yet another orgasm, I think I’m about ready to implode.

Quinn slows down his licks and pulls away, but is still inches away from my heat. “I want nothing more,” he whispers, his warm breath fanning over my flesh. “Than to bury myself inside of you,” and my heart picks up the pace, which surely can’t be healthy as it’s already racing.

“But when that happens—and it
will
happen, Red—I want you squirming underneath me,
begging
me to fuck you.”

I convulse, nearly coming at his dirty words, and I know that’s his intention.

“So for now, I’ll have you begging me for something else.” He lowers his face, continuing his assault.

But as he’s dancing over where I want him to be, I now understand what he means by having me beg. He’s in no real hurry as he lazily licks over my folds, waiting for my pleas.

I whimper as the ache between my legs is heightened with each stroke, and I can’t take it a second longer.

“Please,” I beg softly.

“Please what?” he murmurs against me.

“Please… make me,”

“Make you what?” he says, pulling away, looking up at me like an untamed beast.

I’m so needy, so my shyness is going to have to take a backseat. “Please make me come.”

Quinn growls, pulling on his lip ring before planting his head firmly between my legs and eating me out with an intensity so fierce, I cry out loudly, my chest burning in passion. But I can’t stop. My moans get louder and louder, and suddenly, tears of pleasure are burning my eyes. The bar above my head squeaks in protest as my fingers clench around it with all my might.

Quinn sucks on my clit, and then with the one simple command of, “Come,” I explode.

Every part of my body jerks and spasms, the aftershocks rocking my entire being violently, and if not for Quinn wrapping his hands around my waist, burying his head into my stomach to steady me, I would have fallen to the floor.

Finally after what seems like hours, my body calms, but every so often my muscles twitch, still coming down from a drug that isn’t manufactured, it’s pure.

It’s pure Quinn.

My whole body feels numb and floppy, and I allow Quinn to unwrap my legs from around his neck, as I have absolutely no muscle control.

He still has a firm grip around my waist as he rises, and I lean against him as he encourages my hands to let go of the bar above me. My arms are thankful, as my biceps feel like jelly. Quinn sweeps my sweaty hair off my brow and kisses my forehead, which has me closing my eyes, sleep about ready to overtake me.

But I snap them open as I realize I’m a selfish lover. I’m sure Quinn needs some kind of release, too. I sleepily reach down between us, hoping he’ll show me what to do, and for my foggy brain to catch up.

But Quinn stops me as he bends low, scooping me up, and cradling me to his chest.

“What are you doing?” I question groggily.

“Putting you to bed,” he replies as he strolls to our massive bed.

“But what about you?” I ask shyly, fighting for my eyes to stay open.

“Believe me—that was more for me than for you.”

“I seriously doubt it,” I reply, yawning.

Quinn chuckles as he pulls the blanket back, laying me onto the crisp white sheets. I then remember I still have my boots on and make a move to take them off. But Quinn is there first, placing one on his lap as he unties my laces.

“I can do that,” I say, flopping back onto the soft pillow, closing my eyes.

“I don’t mind,” he replies, slipping off one boot and working on the next.

“Thank you,” I mumble, sleep overtaking me.

“It’s okay, Red. I like taking care of you,” he whispers, bending forward and kissing my ankle softly.

I could so get used to this.

Chapter 13

First’s

I don’t want to get up.

I am so comfy, wrapped up like a burrito, but as I feel a pair of sinful lips brush over my cheek, they slip open, wanting to see the man before me.

“Do you ever sleep?” I mumble as his lips flutter over mine.

Quinn chuckles, kissing my chin. “I sleep enough. And besides, it’s hard getting a decent night’s sleep with you owning the bed.”

I blush, as this isn’t the first time he’s told me this. It’s hard sharing, especially when I have never had to before.

Quinn leans on his side, head propped up on his palm, looking down at me. “So, I was thinking…” He pauses, looking like he’s mulling over what to say next, which makes me nervous. “Will you go out with me?” he says on a rushed breath.

I nearly choke as the saliva collects in my throat, my bodily functions refusing to operate until I clarify what he means.

“Go… out with you?” I ask slowly, raising my eyebrows.

Quinn clears his throat, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s nervous. Well, there is a first time for everything.

“Yeah, like a date,” he says, making a pained face. “I sound like such an idiot.” He huffs, running a hand through his messy hair.

Laughing loudly and placing my hand against his cheek, I reply, “No, you don’t. You sound sweet.”

“Red, I think we’ve had the whole ‘sweet is not cool’ talk,” he smirks, leaning into my palm.

That makes me laugh harder, and all sense of awkwardness goes flying out the eighteenth story window.

“I’d love to go out on a date with you, Quinn Berkeley,” I say with a big smile, the words rolling off my tongue naturally.

“Yeah?” he says, his eyes lighting up.

“You bet your hot ass I do,” I reply, feeling like a giddy teenager because this is my first ever date.

I wouldn’t want to experience it with anyone other than Quinn.

“I just thought, after everything we’ve done”—my cheeks heat as the memories of last night come floating back—“that we skipped a step.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. I’m so out of my element here.

“The whole dinner and flowers. You know, the datey kinda stuff,” he replies, shrugging, rolling his lip between his teeth.

“I thought you said you didn’t do flowers and romance,” I reply, referring back to our conversation all those weeks ago.

“I don’t. But you’re the exception to that rule,” he says, tracing my brow with his long finger.

My giddiness has just exploded, and I can’t keep the smile off my face.

“And besides, my mother would have given me an earful for not taking a nice girl like you out first, before I—” He pauses, tugging on his silver hoop. “Before I—” His eyes sweep the length of body heatedly.

I try not to rejoice at his comment, as I really want to get to the bottom of his mom.

“You know you can tell me anything,” I whisper, searching his face.

He uncomfortably nods as he reaches for a strand of my hair, placing it above my lip, giving me an instant moustache. I smile, fully aware that he’s attempting to steer me off the topic of his mom, but I won’t budge on this.

I cock my head to the side in all seriousness. “Whatever it is, I will never judge you. I mean, I’m certainly not one to point fingers,” I say, trying to brush his finger off my lip.

“I know,” he replies, tickling my nose with my lock of hair, distracted by his memories.

My eyes light up, wanting to know everything there is about Quinn. Good
and
bad. It won’t change my feelings for him, because I do… I do have feelings for him. Feelings I’ve never felt for another before.

“But not now.” He smiles, tapping the end of my nose with his finger, letting my hair go. “Because now, you’ve got to get ready.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, watching him hungrily as he gets off the bed, his bare, ripped chest facing me.

I still haven’t asked him about his tattoo, but I can see intricate script rising out of his pants, hugging his ribs.

“Oh, by the way, Red, I paid for an extra night so we could enjoy one more day.”

“You did?” I ask, attempting to contain my excitement.

“I sure did,” he replies, and by the faraway look in his eyes, it looks like he doesn’t want our time here to end, either. “So, firstly, breakfast,” he says, as if that’s a no brainer. “And then, wherever you want to go.”

I bite my lip, feeling like a nervous schoolgirl. “I’ve always wanted to go for a boat ride down the Mississippi River. If you wanted to, of course,” I add, hoping I don’t sound too demanding.

Quinn kneels by the bed, leaning into me. “Then we’ll ride down that Mississippi till we get kicked off the boat.”

“And what if that never happens?” I reply with a smile.

“Then we’ll ride it all night, until you’re ready to leave,” he says with a smirk.

Smiling happily, my heart swells at his kindness. “That sounds amazing.”

Quinn places a quick kiss on my lips and stands to full height. “Sure does. So hurry that sweet ass outta bed. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” I question, sitting up, gripping the sheet to my chest.

“Yup,” he replies with a smirk, and I know he’s up to something, but I don’t get a chance to question him as he’s out the door in a flash, grabbing a shirt along the way.

I can’t wipe the smile off my face, and as I kick off the covers I realize I have underwear and a t-shirt on. I’m pretty sure I crashed in only a bra and no bottoms, so that means Quinn took the time to dress me, knowing when the morning rolled through, I would be a little shy being almost bare.

This man is just too good to be true.

***

After forty-five minutes of deciding on what to wear, and with not much of a choice, I put on my skinny black jeans, which are the only pair I own without a hole in them, and a cute red tank with a little bow on the front. Because it’s looking a little dreary outside, I slip on my boots and zip up vinyl jacket, and I’m ready to go.

I leave my hair down because I like the way it falls around my face, shaping my cheekbones elegantly. My makeup is light, but I still feel sexy, especially when I coat my lips with a thin coat of shimmering lip-gloss.

One last look in the mirror and I think I look suitable for my first ever date, at age nineteen. And it doesn’t matter it’s taken me nineteen years to be asked out on a date, because it’s with Quinn.

I take the elevator downstairs. My heart begins beating like crazy, which is stupid, as I just saw Quinn a little while ago. But this is what first dates are all about, right? Sweaty palms, heart palpitations, and high hopes.

The elevator door slides open and I take a deep breath before stepping out into the ballroom foyer, and again, I feel like Belle, stepping out to meet her Beast.

When I see him, my breath hitches in my throat, threatening to choke me. And that’s not because his Godly looks takes my breath away. No, it’s because Quinn is standing against the wall with a huge bunch of pink lilies in his hands.

I can’t believe he bought me flowers.

“Hi,” I say with a small smile as I approach him.

“Hi,” he replies, looking at me, making it more than obvious he’s checking me out. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” I reply nervously as I fiddle with the drawstring on my hood.

This is kind of awkward, and feels exactly how a first date should feel. I like it. I like that I’m experiencing all my firsts with Quinn.

“Are those for me?” I ask when Quinn continues staring at me, heating every inch of my skin.

“No,” he replies with a smirk, finally meeting my eyes.