Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(115)

Holy fucking shit, this girl is a Goddess.

And there’s something about the transformation in a matter of hours from good-girl, prim little Quinn Archer to this new sex-Goddess of a woman bent over on my bed in front of me basically begging me to fuck her from behind that has my cock back to rock hard in seconds. I finish tearing the condom out of it’s wrapper and roll it on as I step up behind her and push the head against the silk of her opening. The way her moan sounds so soft and innocent in contrast with the forward, naughty way she’s just offered herself to me drives me wild, and I groan as I begin to push inside of her. My hands are on her hips, and she’s sliding back onto me as we both choke out gasps of pleasure as I slowly fill her all the way up.

And when we fuck, it’s raw and it’s animalistic, and it’s incredible. I’ve always said that fighting was the biggest high I’d ever had, and I do mean including sex. But that particular opinion shatters like a cheap imitation that night with her. This right here - this feeling of being one with Quinn Archer - is the highest I’ll ever be, and there’s something so real and right about it that the world slips away around us. She’s begging for it hard, and deep, and fast, and I’m giving her everything I have until I feel her seize up around me as the cooing moans drip from her lips. We both come crashing together, shuddering into each other as the world shatters around us and leaves us both breathless and gasping for air as we collapse onto the bed.





Chapter Eighteen





Quinn




The boxing bag hanging down from the ceiling in the middle of the room is the first thing I notice when I open my eyes. I’m still in Logan’s place. I’m also hardly the expert on the subject, but I feel like I at least know enough that “sleeping over” is pretty much top on the “not-to-do” checklist when it comes to casual hook-ups.

Of which I know nothing about, apparently.

Oh, shit. Shit-shit-shit-shit.

I should not have done that. What the hell was I even thinking? Drinks, skinny-dipping in a deserted rooftop pool? Did I actually buy all that crap? When I look back on the previous night, it just seems like some sort of cliched movie scene from some cookie-cutter romantic comedy, and there I was swallowing it hook, line, and sinker.

Hardly the only thing you swallowed last night. The thought has me blushing bright crimson and biting my lip.

I mean whatever happened to that first time being a “one-time thing”? What happened to calling it a mistake that I was just going to push to a dark corner of my mind, one that I’d keep covered with an extra glass of wine or three at any family get-togethers where I’d have to be around him? Yeah, a one time thing and here I’ve gone and done it again - twice.

I can feel Logan stirring behind me, the scruff of his chin brushing against the back of my neck as he absently kisses the skin there. The subtle movement is perfect, and at the same time, it’s terrifying. Terrifying because of how damn comfortable it feels being in his arms with the familiarity of that kiss on my neck.

What are we doing? Because as perfect and familiar as this feels, why does it also feel like some dirty little secret affair?

“Morning, gorgeous,” he mumbles, his arms pulling me tighter against his bare body. But I’m squeezing my eyes shut and trying to fight the swinging of my heart between wanting to let myself just sink into him or just jump out of this bed and run.

My phone chimes from the floor next to the bed, distracting me from the moment, but I ignore it and begin to shift towards him. “Logan, I- I mean, we-”

My cell goes off again, and I frown and turn back to grab it off the floor and peer at the text on the screen:

“I’m downstairs- Buzz me up! Let’s get brunch.”

It’s Reagan. My sister is downstairs probably trying to buzz my apartment, which I can’t hear because I’m naked in bed with her fucking brother-in-law.

“Oh, shit!” I’m bolting out of his arms and sliding out of the bed, looking wildly around for my clothes and trying to ignore the fact that I’m naked.

“Hang on,” He says sleepily, “I’ll walk you-”

“No, Logan, I have to get out of here.” I snap.

“Okay, okay. Relax, Doc-”

“Now, Logan.” I huff out quickly, yanking my shorts on and looking under the bed for my shirt.

“You know, for the girl who doesn’t do flings, you’re starting to get pretty good at this whole hit it and quit it thing, Quinn.”

I jerk my head up to see the dry smile on his face. “That’s- that’s not what I-” I shake my head. “I mean it’s no big deal, I just don’t-”