I break, landing a solid, but end up scratching from a bad ricochet, sending the cue ball rolling into one of the other corner pockets.
I don’t even care that Quinn institutes a new penalty that has me toeing off both my Chucks because now that crop top is gone, and Quinn is standing before me in a sexy-as-fuck black-lace bra.
My mouth goes dry while simultaneously filling with drool at the sight before me. The delicate material cups Quinn’s breasts, the generous swells of her cleavage pushed high and tight together and begging me to bury my face in them.
The bronzed hue of her skin looks as warm and inviting as I know it is to touch and highlights the nip of her waist and the toned muscles she’s honed from years of cheerleading. She’s the perfect contradiction of womanly curves with her flared hips and powerful athletic build.
It takes me a solid minute to work my way down to the toenails painted a matching fire-engine red and back up to the lust-filled brown eyes studying me.
I remain rooted to my spot, my knuckles turning white as I strangle my pool cue, unable to move as I watch Quinn slip a finger under the strap hooked over her shoulder. She lifts it away from her body, teasingly lowering it down her arm before putting it back in place.
I need my hands on her in any way I can get them on her. And I need them on her now.
“Let’s see if I can’t help you perfect your shot,” I suggest, making my way toward her.
“I thought you’d never ask, Superman,” Quinn says with an arch of her back, the long line of her spine curving in and popping out the bubble of her butt and swell of her breasts in a way that has me adjusting myself in my shorts.
Last summer, before I went home to Kansas, JT had the brilliant idea for us to celebrate my going away in style, and by style, I mean going to some shady pool hall down the shore to hustle people we had no business cheating out of their money. We made it out alive by the skin of our teeth, and still, this right here feels like the most dangerous game of eight ball I’ll ever play.
Stepping behind Quinn, I spread my legs and press my front to her back. “Chalk your cue, Red.”
With trembling fingers, she does as I ask, picking up the tiny paper-wrapped cube of blue chalk and rubbing it around the end of her cue. From over her shoulder, I watch, any lingering softness in my dick gone the instant her red-painted lips purse to blow the excess chalk off the tip.
“Fuuuck me, Quinn,” I groan.
“All in good time, Christopher.” She bends forward, her ass pushing against my erection with a swivel of her hips.
With a feral growl, I fold myself over her back, my thighs pressed along the backs of hers, her ass nestled against my groin. Quinn grinds into me, and I still her with a squeeze of her hip. I glide my palm up her side, feeling each bump of her rib cage before her smooth skin gives way to the scalloped edge of her bra.
She sucks in a breath, her chest expanding under mine. I trail my fingertips along the outline of her bra before I dip inside and tweak her nipple.
“CK.” The husky gasp of my name falling from her parted lips is everything, spurring me on further.
I just barely let the tips of my fingers skim the length of her arms, following the cut of her triceps over the jut of her elbow, and finally cupping her forearm before threading my fingers with hers from over the top of her hand.
Quinn shakes her hair out of her face, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
“You ready for your lesson, Q?” I ask, my cheek pressed to hers.
“Mmmhmm.” Her hum reverberates through me.
I nip at the back of her shoulder, then push into her more. “One of the biggest mistakes I’ve seen you make with your shots is trying to put too much power behind them.”
Sliding my left arm so it lies under her, I maneuver her right back and forth in the same motion needed to take a shot. “Too much power can make the ball travel too fast.”
“Yeah, nobody likes fast balls,” she quips, her chest rumbling as she laughs at her own joke.
“Pay attention, smartass.” I nibble the side of her throat, sucking at her pulse point, when she drops her head to grant me better access. “The pocket is actually bigger when the ball travels at slower speeds.”
“Most guys like their pockets small and tight.”
“Quinn!”
She giggles, relishing how close she has me to snapping. This is not going at all like I hoped. I’m the one who is supposed to be teasing her, yet she keeps turning it around on me.
Flexing my fingers around her, I exhale a long breath and take our shot on the two ball. It rolls perfectly into the side pocket, with the cue ball rolling to the center of the table like I intended.
Quinn whoops in glee, spinning in my hold. She touches the tip of her tongue to one of her incisors, pure mischief radiating in her eyes.
“Where do you want my lips?”
Wrapped around my cock, I think, but shove that thought down…for now.
“How about shooter’s choice,” I offer, not trusting myself not to voice my earlier thought. The first time we move the bases along to oral is not going to be because I won having her mouth on my dick in a game.
That intoxicating scent of coconut I just spent the last few minutes inhaling wraps around me again as she moves in close. Quinn walks her fingers up my abs, her mouth curling at the corners right before it disappears from view. Warm breath hits the skin at the base of my throat before the soft pillow of her lips follows. It’s light, gentle even, yet so fucking erotic it’s a miracle I’m not coming in my shorts like the virgin I am.
I move away as soon as she pulls back, needing distance immediately. “You’re on your own for the next one.”
She smirks, having heard the lust coating my voice as much as I did. Following my advice, she takes advantage of the premier placement I left her with and sinks two more shots, winning my socks with them.
Linking my fingers together, I push my hands out, cracking my knuckles as I survey the spread on the table. I move into position, lifting my gaze to Quinn as I pause before taking my shot.
“Get ready to sing happy birthday, Red.”
Her response is delayed as she tracks the path of the green ball rolling down the felt. “Huh?”
“You’re about to be in your birthday suit, baby.” I motion for her to drop her shorts.
Fuck me. Her panties match the bra.
Done messing around, I clear the five remaining solids from the board and the eight. But I don’t stop there. Instead, I take care of the rest of Quinn’s and then toss the pool cue on the table.
Quinn’s eyes are wide, her dark brows pinched together as she tries to work out why I didn’t stop when she should have been naked eight shots ago.
I stalk toward her, not bothering to answer the unasked question. Hooking my hands under her arms, I lift her and hoist her onto the pool table.
“Wha—”
I nudge her knees open, stepping between them, and cut off whatever she was about to say by crashing my mouth into hers.
There’s nothing sweet about this kiss. It’s pure need and banked lust, every bit of teasing from our games colliding and combusting.
I nip, lick, and suck at Quinn’s lips. Her jaw. Her throat.
My arms wrap around her, the sweet smell of coconut filling my lungs as I pant against her skin while working the clasp of her bra open.