I had always wanted her from the moment I met her until the years wasted in prison without a word from her. If anyone should hate anyone, I should hate her, but that was impossible. Nothing in this world could ever make me hate Quinn.
She undoubtedly held a bit of hate toward me. I lifted my hand and touched my cheek, smirking when I still felt the low simmer of heat she left behind. No one would dare to ever hit me, or I’d kill them, a quick snap of the neck, but with her, it was different. She could smack me, hit me, spit at me, kick me, and downright disgrace me.
But it would only be to cover up what she really wanted.
Me.
Hate that passionate was derived from love.
She had feelings for me still, buried deep in that brainwashed heart of hers, but it was there, just waiting for me to bring it to the surface.
I had a ten-year plan, and it involved her at my side. I hoped it wouldn’t take her ten years to realize she loved me, but I had to uphold the end of the bargain. At the end of ten years, if she wanted to be free, I’d let her go.
I’d never be far from her, though. I’d always keep an eye on her. I’d always keep her safe since she had no regard for her own safety.
With a heavy sigh as I unbuttoned my shirt, I held the handle of the door down with my elbow then pushed it open with my foot. The slate grey walls had a low cast of lights shining on them, and the bed in the middle of the room wasn’t as big as the bed in my master suite. I stood at the two-way mirror, and my eyes fell on her as she walked down the staircase from the bathroom.
My eyes ate her up. From the tips of her bare feet to the messy blonde bedhead, she was gorgeous. She moved like a lynx, graceful, sly, and ready to pounce. She was feisty, a survivor; she just had no idea what she survived because if I had waited any longer to swoop in, she would have been dead.
And I’d be standing over her grave.
Just the thought had me wanting to go down there and kill Brian for even thinking about laying a hand on her. Her safety was more important than me, but without his confession, I wouldn’t be a free man, and I wouldn’t be the man she needed me to be.
I placed my palms against the cold glass, never taking my eyes off her. Her legs were white and smooth, and that oversized t-shirt stopped below her ass. If she bent over, I’d be able to see what color panties she wore, and just the thought had my hand stroking the hard length under my pants.
I was no saint.
When I got out of prison, I fucked any willing woman that wanted me because it had been so long. It was only to scratch an itch, but none of them sated me like Quinn did. She was different and I hated the effect she had on me. She controlled me, as much as I wanted to control her, she was the master, and I was the puppet.
No one else could know. I’d take that to my grave.
I slung my black, hand-sewn blazer over the chair, never taking my eyes off her. She grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and then placed the cold plastic against her neck as if she were overheated. Her eyes were shut, then her lips parted, and I imagined a beautiful harmonic moan spilling free.
I unbuttoned my shirt the rest of the way, then unzipped my pants, kicked off my shoes, and with a raging erection pointing straight at her, I gripped it, hissing as I watched the innocent motion she displayed. I took my time, watching as she moved the bottle down her neck, and then over her breast.
She was turning herself on.
And she had no idea she was putting on a show.
I grunted as pleasure struck across her face, probably from the cold bottle tightening her perfect pink nipples that I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on again. Her free hand caressed her leg, and I noticed it was the same movements that I had made earlier.
Quinn was thinking of me.
She took off the shirt, and a bead of pre-come dripped from my slit when I saw her breasts. I used my precome as lubricant, stroking myself from seeing those palm-sized mounds. I loved her tits. They fit in my hands perfectly if I remembered correctly.
I should turn away and let her have her privacy. If she ever found out I was watching her as she pleasured herself, it would only confirm what she thought of me. I was a respectful man, but I wasn’t a stupid man, looking away from a woman as beautiful as Quinn would be a criminal offense.
The light from the moon bathed her body and let me see every curve that I hadn’t seen in far too long. She had gone from a teenage girl to a woman filled out in all the right places. Her hips weren’t too wide and perfect for me to latch on to. Her tits were bigger, but not by too much, and her ass was as plump as a ripe peach ready to be picked off the tree.
Her nipples were so tight; I could hardly see the areolas. She was too fucking far away. I growled, displeased with not being able to see all of her. The heavy sack between my legs pulled to my body, and I released my cock when I was on the edge of painting the glass with my come. I needed to take a deep breath.
“You’re beautiful,” I told her, knowing she couldn’t hear me. My fingers rubbed along the glass as I made tight fists. She rubbed the bottle down her abdomen and then placed the cold bottle on her clit.
I couldn’t hear her since every room in the house was soundproof, but I could almost hear her groans if I thought hard enough. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at herself in the mirror. Could she sense me?
Her eyes bored into mine, and my cock gave another jerk. The damn thing looked ready to explode; it was so hard and red. She bit her lip and sauntered over to me, well, to herself. She must like watching. That was good to know.
Something I hadn’t known before. It looked like I didn’t know everything about her after all.
She lifted her leg until it was on the coffee table next to her and slid two fingers inside that pink hole.
“Fuck,” I grunted and squeezed my cock, jerking myself in angry hard motions as I watched her. Her eyes were hooded, and one kept playing with her nipples as she finger-fucked herself. Her palm rubbed against her clit simultaneously, and I reached down to tug my sack. Her hand slammed against the glass, right where mine was on the other side, and she tossed her head back, and I knew she was moaning, whimpering, chasing that orgasm, she wanted so much. “Dirty girl watching yourself,” I said to her. “I’ll have to spank you for taking what’s mine before I could.”
I stroked myself hard, wishing I was deep in her cunt so I could feel her come around me. Her hand moved ferociously, her palm wet from her juices, and my mouth watered to lick up all her slick, so it didn’t go to waste.
“Fuck, I’m going to come, Quinn. You’re going to make me come,” I whimpered as my breathed changed. I kept my hand tight around myself, wanting to come at the same time she did. She stared into the mirror again, brows furrowed as if she were deep in thought.
What was she thinking about?
“Quinn,” I warned her. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could last. My toes curled, and my cock hurt from holding my orgasm back. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Come for me like you used to,” I demanded.
It was almost as if she could hear me because her mouth fell open, and our hands stuttered at the same time. Her body bowed, and her entire body shook like a leaf as she came.
“Jaxon,” she yelled at the mirror, coming on my name.
I read her lips. There was no mistaking what she said. My come spurted from my cock in fast, thick strings, painting the glass. It almost looked like I came on her stomach since that was where she was standing, and it had another jet of come splattering on the glass. “Quinn,” I said with broken breaths. My shoulders rose and fell. My chest heaved. Sweat dripped into my eyes, but the sting of the salt wasn’t enough for me to look away.