Chapter 13

Tyler

I hadn’t been to Le Fou in many years, not since a bad business deal back in the years immediately post-divorce. With my limited sales skills, I’d attempted to convince a tech guru that my app idea—one that told you, always, where you’d left your house keys—would revolutionize the marketplace. But I’d grown tipsy, outrageous, and I’d looked foolish and young. I remember, in the hours after that, I’d sat despondent and half-drunk next to Rachel’s crib, wishing my life had turned out differently.

Now, I led Quinn into the restaurant, told the maître d’ my name, and then found myself at an intimate table near the back; complete with flickering candles and a large impressionist painting across the wall next to it. I watched Quinn’s eyes flash, showing her confusion and hesitation.

We still hadn’t spoken much since we had left the house.

Sure, we’d been chatting amicably since she offered to take care of Rachel while I was gone. It was remarkable, how much better I felt out west when I knew Rachel was in the hands of someone like Quinn, rather than Marnie. But I think, what we’d both forgotten in the days of my absence, how remarkably attracted we were to one another. I inhaled her scent on the drive and sensed my cock thrusting up against my pants, a reminder that she’d fulfilled my needs in such an intense way the previous week.

Why wouldn’t I allow it again?

I ordered us the first round of wine, a French Cabernet Sauvignon, and then watched as the server poured us a small taster; the red wine pouring into the bottom, smooth like silk. We clinked glasses, still without speaking, allowing the tension to draw even tighter.

Finally, with her lips quivering, Quinn spoke first.

“She’s a great kid. I didn’t even know you could make them that great.”

“Actually, I got a pretty good deal on her, as well,” I said, falling into an immediate rapport. “She was half-off. They threw in all the science stuff just to make me feel like an idiot, every day of the week. It’s a plus.”

“Do you think she takes after you?” Quinn laughed, sipping her wine.

“She certainly looks a bit like her mother. But her brains—I don’t know, she really lucked out on those,” I said, a grin stretching between my cheeks.

Quinn leaned forward, taking sincere interest—allowing her breasts to crest over her camisole. Her fingers painted a bright pink, flickered nervously across the tablecloth. I yearned, at that moment, to grab onto her, to kiss her. She seemed so far away.

“Anyway,” Quinn began. “I’m—um. I’m glad that we can have this friendship, despite what happened…”

My heart hammered. “Yes.” I felt the wine draw into my brain, making things ooze together. The candle’s orange glow seemed to bleed into the impressionist painting. The world didn’t have such stark boundaries. “Since my divorce, I haven’t been close to anyone, really. A few friends, here and there. But my life has been centered on Rachel’s education. Her safety. And my job, of course. It’s just—“

“Easier that way,” Quinn finished, nodding. “I think I’d handle it the same way. You’re not selfish, Tyler. It might be one of your most attractive qualities. And that’s saying a lot…”
She trailed off, clearly embarrassed as if she’d overstepped. The silence stretched between us. The server arrived with our first course, a cheese platter, and then left us staring into one another’s eyes.

“And you said you were recently in a bad breakup?” I asked then, drawing a piece of brie across a slab of bread.

“I honestly thought I would be engaged by Christmas,” Quinn smiled sadly, beginning to nibble on some Cheddar. “But he grew distant. And then, I found out he was cheating on me…with my best friend of five years.”

“Jesus,” I whispered. On instinct, I brought my spare hand to hers on the table. Electricity simmered between us. As I gazed into her eyes, I found the words, “You don’t deserve to feel broken.”

Quinn chuckled, pulling her hand back. She looked shaken as if she were counting the minutes down until she could run from the restaurant. Free of her feelings for me. I sensed the dominance growing within me once more; making me want to thrust her against the wall of the restaurant, inhale her scent and place my fingers in the soft folds between her legs.

I wanted to hear her cry my name again.

I needed her to need it.

As we continued to eat the conversation grew less tense, with me even making her laugh a few times. We sipped through a bottle of wine, then half of another, and found ourselves making excuses to touch one another. Her hand glanced across mine as she told me a story about her and Rachel doing math formulas across the chalkboard she’d moved over from Asheville.

“She seemed like a little evil genius,” she laughed. “Plotting a way to rule the world.”

“She will, someday,” I affirmed. “She will.”

The moon beamed down into the restaurant windows. On the smokers’ patio, I could see people sipping their wine and engaging in intimate conversation beneath the bright peppering of stars. I asked, perhaps beyond my better judgment, if she wanted to go, and then I led her toward the terrace—far from swirling smoke. She stood with her wine glass glimmering in her hands and gazed up at me.

“What are we going to do?” she whispered, speaking about something far beyond Rachel and Marnie.

“She called you my girlfriend, just like that?” I said, unable to rip my eyes away from her.

“It was almost too easy,” Quinn replied.

Before I knew it, I leaned toward her and caught her lips between mine. All hesitation, all knowledge that this was a bad idea—off-limits—flew from my brain. Her lips were so soft and supple between mine. I lifted my tongue toward hers, parting her lips, and gliding my tongue across her teeth, inhaling the taste of her. I felt her moan, and it grumbled into my throat, telling me she wanted so much more.

After we had broken the kiss, our noses were pressed together. Our hearts seemed to beat as one. Quinn murmured, “I know this is wrong. This isn’t what you want.”

With my cock throbbing in my pants and my blood rushing against my eardrums, I wasn’t so sure anymore. Drawing her back toward the table, I paid for our food and then led her back to the truck. It now looked tainted, unfamiliar, after so many days staying out west. I wondered if Quinn was unimpressed. But her eyes were like saucers, filled with lust for me, and I started the engine without another thought.

After paying Brittany and I said goodnight I led Quinn to my bedroom. It seemed that our choice to do this again—after each saying that we didn’t want to had ripped us from any feeling of our drunkenness. With more passion than last time, I drew her across the bedspread, kissing her neck, her cheek, that soft spot beside her eye. “Did you sleep in my bed while I was away?” I asked her.

She shook her head no. “I couldn’t handle the smell of you. Thinking I would never be able to have you again,” she whispered.

Overcome with emotion, I reached for her camisole and drew it over her head, revealing her supple breasts, bouncing into my grasp. She looked innocent, bright in the glowing light of the moon that spilled through my window. Bringing my finger across her nipple, I then eased my mouth over it, drawing my tongue across the hard, brown tip. She moaned again, sliding her fingers through my hair. Fuck it felt so good.

With a gruff voice, I said, “You’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Our motions were quick after that. I pulled her skirt down from her waist, revealing her muscular legs and black panties. She unbuttoned my shirt with nimble fingers, flinging it back from my wide shoulders. Easing her fingers across my coarse, black chest hairs, she gazed into my eyes, showing just how much she needed me.

I ripped the panties from her waist and dove between her legs. Her pussy lips were dripping wet. I found her clit, hard and sensitive, and centered on it, sucking at it and rubbing it with a firm tongue. She brought her legs as far apart as she could. Her lips emitted several soft, long moans, which made my cock draw tighter with blood. Reaching up, she wrapped her hand around the thickness of it, her eyes growing large, as if she remembered, just then, how much I had filled her before.

Drawing my head toward hers again, she kissed me with the softest of lips and then whispered, making me shiver, “I want you inside me.”

Without another word, I thrust myself into her, parting her pink lips and drawing myself into her soft tunnel. She gasped, drawing her hands across my back and ripping her nails into my skin. Bringing her legs around my abdomen, she bit her lip, cradling me, before I began pounding into her, over and over, with a pure animalistic drive. It felt so good to be inside her like I was where I belonged. I wanted to go slow, to savor every inch of her, but I was so overcome with a need to fill her and make her mine. My thrusts were quick and hard, pummeling her from within. Hearing her cry out my name softly in my ear was too much but everything I wanted to hear.

That night, we came in one another’s arms, our eyes linked together as if we no longer truly cared that a million things were in the way of this new relationship. When it was over, we slept soundly, inhaling the air, which smelled like sex and promise and sweat. We didn’t care about what we woke up to, in the light of the morning.