Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(119)

She moans when I kiss her, hard. Our lips pressing hotly together as she opens her mouth for my tongue. My hands are grabbing her firm ass and sliding down her thigh to yank her leg up to my hip.

“What the hell do you think you're doing, you bastard.” She husks, kissing me back as her skirt bunches around her waist and as she arches her hips against the bulge in my pants. I shove my hand down between us and pull her panties to the side before I start to yank down my zipper.

“Well I was planning on fucking that perfect little pussy right here and now.” I growl into her mouth, feeling her whimper at the coarseness of my words and loving the fact that sweet and innocent Quinn Archer gets turned on by my dirty mouth.

“Oh, and do you plan on fucking me right here in the hallway of our office, you arrogant prick?” You'd think she was protesting if she wasn't snaking her hand down into my fly and wrapping her fingers around my throbbing cock.

I push two fingers deep into her slit and curl them up, feeling her squeeze down on them as her breath catches. “Well just maybe I want the whole office to watch you come for me on my cock.”

She whimpers again at my words, her hand stroking me faster and faster. “Why you smug, cocky, ass.”

“You prim, stuck-up little tease.”

She moans, her brow furrowing as my fingers stroke deep and insistently, and I know by how wet she is that she's close. “I'm going to make you come right here, Doc.”

“Right here?” She whispers out, her eyes closed and her lips parted ever so slightly.

“Right here,” I growl. “I want you to come for me just like you came for me the other night.”

She freezes for second, and then suddenly her eyes are snapping open.

Fuck.

“Oh my God, what are we doing?!” Her cheeks are bright rose and flushed, but she's pulling her hand out my pants and pushing my hand away from her.

“Quinn-”

But then she’s shaking her head again and she’s suddenly pushing me back. “No, Logan-” She's shaking her head, frowning. “We can't keep doing th-”

“We can do whatever we-”

“I can’t keep doing this!” She says loudly. Her face is angry and drawn as she looks up into my eyes. “I can’t just keep fixing you up and then sleeping with you every time you get banged up!”

My eyes narrow as I frown at her. “So, that what you think this is? You think I need some kind of pity fuck from you because I get hit or knocked down?”

“Well?” She says, her head cocked to the side and a hand on her hip.

I can feel the heat rising inside of me, but I shove it down as I glare at her. “Listen, Doc, I can take a hit.”

“Yeah? How about a hint, Logan.”

We’re both quiet for a second, just staring at each other and letting the air simmer between us before she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I-”

“Nah, heard loud and clear, Doc.” I smile at her, forcing the grin to my face despite how pissed off I am. “A fling is a fling. I get it.”

“Logan-”

“I have work to do, Quinn.”

She opens her lips again, but then she just shakes her head and storms off, leaving me with a raging case of blue-balls.

Well, that sure went well.





Chapter Twenty





Quinn




“There’s no discussion here, Quinn, you’re coming!” Chelsea’s voice is her usual chipper, sunshiny self on the other end of the line, and I can’t help but grin at my youngest sister’s seemingly boundless supply of positive energy.

“Seriously, thanks for the invite, but there’s no way I’m going to a college party, Chels.”

“You make it sound like it’s some kind of frat party, Quinn! It’s being thrown by some of the graduate students anyways, there’ll be plenty of people there your age.”

I’ve got my phone on speaker, and Reagan snorts next to me as I roll my eyes. My age. I’m fucking twenty-seven for crying out loud.

“Besides, Reagan told me you could use a night out.”

I whip my head to glare at my other sister as she shakes her head side-to-side. “I didn’t say a word about that!” she whispers quickly as I frown at her.

“Yeah, Chels, she needs it,” she says louder for our sister to hear.

“See? Come on, Quinn, come have some fun.”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about our youngest sister, it’s that she is deceivingly hard to say no to. “Are you coming to this debacle too?” I say sarcastically to Reagan.

“I’m pregnant, Quinn. No, I won’t be coming to the frat party.”

“Guys, it’s not a frat party!” Chelsea huffs over the line. “Quinn, please? I promise you’re going to have fun.”