Chapter 180. Nesting IV
Maisie
The wind hit my overheated skin but it did nothing to touch the burning fire between my legs.
Then he shoved me against the cold, concrete wall, one hand gripping my jaw as he kissed me hard. One shoved my skirt up around my waist while the other dropped from my jaw and cupped me through my soaked panties, pressing hard against my swollen clit. I whimpered into his mouth, hips jerking forward on instinct.
"Putain, chérie," he rasped against my lips, accent thick and rough. "Still dripping. I can smell how badly you need it."
I did. God, I did. I felt empty and aching, walls fluttering on nothing. The wind tugged at my hair and carried the sound of voices drifting up from the quad. Laughter. Someone calling out. Anyone could look up. Anyone could decide to come up here.
"Quinn, someone could—"
"I don’t give a fuck," he growled. "Let them look. Let them hear." Two thick fingers shoved my panties aside and thrust straight into me, curling hard against that spot he knew too well. I cried out, the sound ripped away by the wind. "You’re going to come on my hand first. And then, you’re going to take my cock like the good little mate you are."
I was already close from his torturing in class. I braced against his shoulder, curling my leg around his calf as he worked me fast and hard in a filthy rhythm, fingers pumping, thumb grinding on my clit while his mouth moved to my throat, teeth scraping over the place where Jericho’s mark sat.
My thighs shook, my breaths coming in short gasps. And when he added a third finger, grounding the heel of his palm against my clit, light shot out from behind my eyes. I tried to bite my lip to stay quiet. It didn’t work. A cry exploded out of me.
Quinlan’s free hand came up to cover my mouth. "Shhh, mon couer. Unless you want them to hear exactly how I’m about to fuck you."
He pulled his fingers free, glistening in the sunlight and my toes curled when he brought them to his lips and sucked, while holding my gaze.
I went feral, fisting his shirt and yanking him into me. He huffed a laugh as I kissed him hungrily, clumsily, drunk on the pleasure and my taste in his lips.
Then he was unbuckling his belt one-handed, shoving his pants down just far enough to free himself.
He lifted me easily, my back scraping the rough stone, legs wrapping around his hips. The thick head of his cock nudged my entrance, and he growled an annoyed sound when my underwear got in the way once more. And then, he just outrightly ripped it off. "Guess you’re going to have to spend the rest of the day without it," he said hotly, clenching the soaked fabric between his teeth.
"You are nasty," I said, face slack with disbelief, and he gripped my bare ass, nudging my thighs wider so he could find my entrance. "The nastiest man I’ve ever met."
He grinned and somehow murmured around my panties in a muffled sound, "I aim to please."
And then he thrusted into me.
It was strange now that four days of being sick and without any type of sexual contact made me feel so empty and starved, I didn’t even care about the burn, didn’t care to let him stretch me out slowly first before I began humping up and down on him, clenching so hard, I mewled, eyes crossing.
"Putain de merde—" His forehead dropped to mine, breath ragged. "So fucking tight. So wet. You feel that? That’s what you do to me, chérie."
It still shocked me how I got it all wrong. How I thought if one of them were to be the gentlest in bed, it would have been Quinlan. But that title was Soren’s, who made love like a proper gentleman, wooing and courting and teasing his beloved, crawling slowly into your soul from between your legs that you didn’t know precisely when he had your heart and mind. When he wasn’t pissed off, of course.
Quinlan was the exact opposite. He simply bulldozed his way inside, like he was punishing you for something. Like Mercer. But Mercer was really a mix of Soren and Quinlan. Sweet when he wanted to be. Cruel when he wanted to be. Jericho was–
A strong hand caught my jaw, forcing my head forward. "I must not be fucking you hard enough if you’re drooling over someone else," Quinlan growled into my mind, though for some reason, it felt very far away, even if he was right in front of me. Like something was blocking him from reaching me fully.
I was really starting to hate the effects of the tonics–oh...
I cried out when he pistoned into me, the thrust so hard, it shoved me higher up the wall. And every thrust that followed sent me even higher, my head thumping back against the wall. He braced his hand behind my head to cushion me, and then fucked me even harder.
His body was a furnace against mine. My snug sweater rode up and he grabbed a handful of my breast. "You got bigger," I thought he groaned as he fondled me through my bra, and he must have discarded my panties because he leaned down and sucked my aching nipples.
I came instantly, squelching down on him with a hoarse scream as the stretch and drag of him hitting exactly where I needed him overwhelmed me in the best way.
Quinlan’s pace turned almost frantic. "Tu es à moi," he snarled against my ear, accent curling around the words.
I nodded, barely able to form words as he pounded into me. And I was teetering over the edge again. "Please, Quinn–please, don’t stop—"
"Oui." He kissed my chin, my neck. "Come for me, chérie."
The orgasm hit suddenly, violently. My whole body seized. My walls clamped down around him in hard, fluttering pulses as pleasure tore through me in white-hot waves. I buried my face in his neck, crying out loud.
Quinlan followed with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and pulsing hot and deep inside me. I felt every throb, every spurt, every throb. My body went slack in his arms, and for a few minutes we stayed locked together, panting.
His forehead rested against mine. One hand stroked my thigh where he held me up.
The sound of chatter and footsteps came from somewhere behind the door, down the staircases.
Quinlan’s head snapped up. "Shit."
He pulled out carefully and set me on shaky legs, tucking himself away with quick efficiency while I tried to fix my skirt. There was no hiding the mess we were. The scent of us was thick in the air, his come sliding down my inner thighs in warm rivulets.
Out of what I now knew to be habit, his hand slid between my legs for a brief second, pushing some of it back inside me with two fingers. I gasped at the sensation.
And then he was hard against me again. He kissed me once, hard and possessive, and I laughed against his mouth, "You’re going to get us expelled, Quinn."
He grunted and pulled his fingers out of me, before taking off his jacket and draping it over my shoulder. Then he tugged me along with him. "Let’s clean you up."
I didn’t know why he bothered.
We never made it back to class.