Page 85 of Good Graces

My fingers dig into her hips, guiding her until she’s bouncing on my cock, her tits flushed and full, her face twisted in pleasure.

“That’s it,” I growl, dragging my thumb over her clit. “Look at you.”

Her breath stutters, her body finding its rhythm. It’s slow at first, like she’s testing me, testing herself, rolling her hips in deep, deliberate circles that make my vision blur.

“Uh-huh,” I mutter, head falling back. “Just like that.”

But then she changes it up—leans forward, planting her hands against my chest as she grinds down. It’s quick and dirty and greedy. Her nails bite into my skin, her breath coming fast and ragged as she moves.

“God, Quinn,” I groan, digging my heels into the ground to thrust up and meet her. “Fucking perfect.”

She gasps, back arching as she takes me even deeper, her body tightening like a fist. I can feel it—the way her muscles start to tremble, the way her breath turns shallow and sharp.

“C’mon,” I rasp, circling her clit with my thumb again. “I know you’re close. Give it to me.”

She cries out, a choked little sound that makes my stomach tighten. Her whole body locks up, and then she’s coming, her cunt squeezing me so tight I can barely think. Her face twists in pleasure, her body shuddering as the orgasm crashes over her.

And fuck—I can’t hold back anymore.

I thrust up one last time, spilling into the condom with a groan so loud I’m sure the whole damn forest hears it. But it’s still not enough.

I lay her back on the blanket, spread her thighs, and kiss my way down her body. Then I bury my face between her legs, tongue teasing her open, licking into her like I can’t get close enough.

She’s still sensitive—still twitching and overstimulated, but she’s pushing into me, riding the edge of it like she’s chasing something more.

I suck her clit between my lips, flick my tongue fast and sharp until she’s a trembling mess. She practically sobs through it. Tells me I’m the only one who gets her like this, and then her legs shake as she comes all over my face.

“Warren,” she gasps, weak and breathless. “I can’t. I can’t—”

“You can,” I mutter against her skin, kissing the inside of her thigh. “I’m not done with you yet.”

I crawl back over her, kiss her slow and deep until she’s moaning into my mouth. Her fingers slide down between us, curling around my cock as it twitches back to life. I groan into her mouth. My hips jerk forward.

“How is that even possible?”

I nip at her bottom lip. “It’s been nearly a thousand days since I’ve had you, Quinny. I could fuck you for the rest of my life, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

She looks up at me, dark brown eyes all soft and steady, her fingers tracing slowly along my skin.

“Yeah? Then prove it.”

27

WARREN

I wake up early,tangled in my sheets, sunlight slipping through the blinds and cutting into the hardwood floor. And for a while, that’s all there is. Me, alone, staring at the ceiling, half-convinced I dreamed the whole thing.

But then I turn my head, and I see her hair tie on my nightstand. It’s black and stretched out, the elastic fraying at the edges. Hers. Definitely hers.

I took it off after I came home last night. Set it carefully beside my bed in the little tray I keep for my antidepressants, like I needed proof our time together wasn’t just some fever dream. Like holding on to that worn-out scrap of elastic might somehow anchor me to the truth of it.

And now, I’m fucking grinning again.

I drag a hand down my face, catch my reflection in the mirror across the room, and that ridiculous smile is still there. I wipe it off with the back of my hand like that’s enough to erase whatever this feeling is.

But it’s not.

It lingers—warm and impossible to shake—the kind of feeling that settles somewhere deep in your chest and refuses to budge. Like something cracked open inside me last night, and no matter how hard I try to patch it up, I know there’s no going back.

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