She didn’t know how bad she affected him. Quentin stood in the living room of the 8,621 square-foot beach house. With his hands resting in the pockets of his casual khaki shorts, he watched her through the glass door. From where he stood, she couldn’t see him looming in the shadows of the night. But he had a clear view of her, the moment her goddess-like figure revealed itself.

Quentin had been perched on the edge of the pool table, drinking a glass of scotch. With a pool stick in his hand, he made attempt after attempt to focus on anything other than her, but it was futile because every time his mind shifted, there she was.

“This must’ve been what it was like for Adam in the garden,” he’d whispered. “Presented with the best fruit in all of the land but forbidden to taste.”

Wanting Phoebe from afar was the most challenging obstacle in Quentin’s existence. He’d fully mastered the way he led his life and dominated every situation thrown in his path. But Phoebe Alexandria Rose had become the one person who could own him, unequivocally. Being best friends with her brothers, Quentin had always seen Phoebe as his own little sister. Back then, she was a skinny, sometimes snaggletooth little girl, with a smart mouth and a thousand plats.

Separated by four years of age was a big deal then, and whenever his friends would have a problem with some lil boy trying to step to Phoebe or her identical sisters, Jonathon, Jacob, and he would quickly intervene. At the time, it drove Phoebe crazy. According to her, she would never have a boyfriend if they didn’t mind their own business. But her business was his business whether she liked it or not. That friendship was a natural loving one, but when Phoebe turned seventeen, her skinny legs took shape, and her thin hips rounded out.

Quentin had felt like a full-on pervert watching her one day. And since then, he’d avoided coming close to her like the plague. It was disheartening now because out of all of that evading; it had not put out the fire that burned in him for her.

Phoebe had blossomed into a beautiful woman, with book smarts that had her graduating high school at sixteen.

Now, she was an attorney at Rose and Garnet LLC.

Quentin had never been so thoroughly turned on because of a woman’s brains over her beauty. But Phoebe was one of a kind, and in the torrent depths of Quentin’s mind, she belonged to him. There was just one problem, and it was quite huge. His best friends would kill him. Quentin considered himself a pretty solid guy; he could take on the best of the best.

But if surrounded by that of the legendary Rose men, he was sure to be exiled after getting a thorough beat down. Quentin had thought about sitting his friends down and having a serious conversation about the nature of his love for Phoebe. It would’ve been a good idea had he not grown up with them. But unfortunately, his brothers from another mother knew him too well. His history with women wasn’t misunderstood. Quentin was the love ‘em and leave ‘em guy. They witnessed his trail of broken hearts and had to assist him with fighting off other brothers, uncles, and sometimes daddies when it came to their precious women. It wasn’t completely Quentin’s fault. The women knew he wasn’t looking to settle down; they went into a steamy night of sexual escapades knowing he would possibly never call again. But it didn’t stop them from falling, and that didn’t stop Quentin from walking away. Now when it came to his forbidden fruit, the odds were stacked against him.

When Quentin had gotten news that Christopher and Norma would be wed, he quickly rescheduled appointments and redirected calls to his assistant before grabbing the next flight out to Nicaragua.

The trip was just the excuse he needed to see her again, and when Phoebe turned her beautiful face toward him, Quentin had reached for the stars and set a date he had every intention on fulfilling. It was a sweet irony that Jonathon had intervened, even though he had no idea of Quentin’s intentions.

But if his progress hadn’t been stopped, Quentin would have dragged Phoebe’s sexy ass right back to his space and done God knows what to her. He had called it fate. It just wasn’t meant to be. But now she stood, like an offering in the moonlit night. So close, that he could reach her in four long strides.

“Go away…” Quentin pleaded, frightened by the activities they would surely get into if she came any closer.

When Phoebe halted, Quentin could’ve sworn she’d felt his desperate plea, but then she took a bold step. Then another one, and before he knew what happened, Quentin had abandoned his spot for the front door. It creaked open, and he stepped out of the shadows, his broad shoulders bare, and his eyes giving off a sparkling gleam in the moonlight.

Phoebe paused again, and her heartbeat knocked at the sight of his gorgeous materialization. He didn’t make a move toward her, just stood as if he dared her to venture closer. Phoebe didn’t break many rules. Considering her profession, it was one thing she took pride in. But there was a saying about rules being meant to be broken, and this was one of those times when she didn’t give a damn. As if something inside her snapped, Phoebe’s feet began to move. Seeing her pace accelerate, Quentin freed his hands from his pockets and matched her stride, his legs moving with a force of agility that brought them face to face within seconds.

As he reached down to gather her up, Phoebe jumped into his arms, and the connection of their skin scorched their bodies and tingled every nerve ending dancing inside them. Their mouths fused together, and their hungriness became greedy. With fervent kissing, they sucked, bit, and pulled at each other’s lips, ravenous and unrelenting.

Quentin palmed Phoebe’s derriere, placing a squeeze on her ass so tight she yelped into his mouth. A thunderous animalistic growl fled his throat and with her ass in his hands, he rubbed her crotch against his rock-hard shaft, desperate to be inside her.

“Take me inside,” she breathed into his mouth. “If you want, I don’t care,” she retracted.

With purpose, Quentin didn’t fight, turning and taking the few steps before climbing the natural oak porch and entering the pine-oak beach house. Knowing the interior from memory, Quentin kept his focus on sucking in Phoebe’s lips while he walked them to a bedroom. His arms skimmed up her back and untied her bikini top. The thin piece of fabric fell to the side, and Quentin pulled back to look at her. His dark gaze scoured her cocoa brown flesh, still wet from the jacuzzi tub. When his eyes took in her cinnamon brown breast and dark chocolate nipples, his pupils took on another shade of night.

“You’re wet,” his dark voice boomed. Quentin coached his body not to react too quickly to her beauty but seeing her bare beautiful breasts tore through his libido.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“You were out in the dark waters this late?” he questioned.

Phoebe smirked, even in the sweltering heat, Quentin was concerned for her.

“Wet for you,” she said.

Quentin pulled his gaze from her nipples back to her beautiful face. Her lips withdrew into a devilish smile, and his hands sank into her wet strands. With a fierce grip, he pulled her face to his and kissed her chin, cheek, and the corner of her lips before drawing her head back and biting down on her jaw. A rainstorm of heat blazed through Phoebe, and her nipples cowered into nubs.

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into, Phoebe?” Before she could respond, he finished, “Saying things like that to me could get you in a lot of trouble. And I do mean trouble in every…sense…of the word.”

Phoebe shivered under his sharp predatory bite. As if he claimed her for all others to keep their hands off.

“It’s the truth,” she practically whispered, her voice trembling with an exciting fear she’d never known.

Quentin moved with her wrapped around him to a piece of lounge furniture on the other side of the room. Removing his vicious teeth from her chin, Quentin kissed over her skin and untied the strings on the hips of her bikini bottoms. Laying her soft body on the furniture, Quentin removed the thin material, and his gaze drank in her glistening peach.

“Fuck… me,” he said, falling to his knees to gain a closer look.

Phoebe swallowed, and her throat tightened as she watched him breathe in her essence. His pushed his face against her moist lips and gently kissed her there. The soft push of his mouth made her shiver with a buzz crawling up her belly to her breasts. When his tongue invaded her slippery sanctuary, Phoebe pulled in a wind-curdling gasp. With an expert tongue, Quentin tousled her clitoris, flipping the wet muscle over her sensitive flesh.

“Oooooh…” Phoebe moaned as her head fell back and her eyes crossed.

A drizzling drum trekked from Quentin’s throat, and he pressurized the force of his tongue.

“Aaaah, Oh my God!” Phoebe sang. She had never felt anything this blissful. Sex couldn’t be better than this. Could it?

Her body began to quiver, just as a sailing path of torched nerves scuttled up her spine. Quentin covered her pussy entirely with his mouth, suckling her with the mission to quench his thirst. In one elongated slurp, he took a tongue over the folds of her labia, lashing at her stiff, juicy pearl. A cycling buzz from her clit made Phoebe hotter, sending a beating pulse pounded through her sensitive flesh. Before she had a mind to comprehend what was happening, she was coming.

“Oh God.” Her legs quaked, and she felt out of control as a profound knocking ripped through her core, and a violent wave of crème eased out to meet his thirsty mouth. The piece of furniture rocked as Phoebe’s trembles became reckoning spasms. The momentum caused her body to sail into his mouth harder, and as if he hadn’t dined on anything so deliciously fulfilling in all his life, Quentin lapped and sucked, covering every corner of her vagina with his tongue.

“Damn it, girl…” he rumbled. “You just couldn’t stay away,” he murmured. “Why’d you go and do this to me?” He licked her some more, sucking in her flesh as if it killed him not to do so.

Numbly, Phoebe gazed down at his half-lit eyes, her legs still vibrantly shaking.

“On the contrary,” she purred. “I think it is you who has done it to me.” Phoebe licked her lips. “That was so damn good. My God.” She closed her eyes and opened them as her head spun.

Quentin smirked. “That was just making love to this pussy, sweetheart. I have yet to eat your ass out.”

Phoebe’s eyes widened, and something akin to a nostalgic desire crept into her bones. Quentin kissed her mound then moved up her belly to her navel than her breast. With his mouth, he inhaled one knotted nipple, sucking, teasing the areola inside his heated cove. His hands explored her body, gliding up her fermented skin. Each time his fingers sunk into her luscious flesh, her body tinged with another round of sordid heat.

“Mmmm,” Phoebe moaned, wrapped in the warmth of his body. “Quentin…” she purred, dazed in a cocoon of rapture.

“Yes, baby,” he said, slurping in her nipples.

His dick pushed against her center, and Phoebe burned with desire.

“Take off your shorts,” she said.

Quentin slipped his dark gaze up at her, lifting high enough for her nipple to pop out of his mouth. His eyes combed over her face as if he hadn’t committed each detail to memory long ago. With ease, he stood and removed his shorts without haste. When his erection sprang free, Phoebe moved back without realizing it.

Her eyes traveled to his dark orbs, then back down again. “You have not been using that to have sex,” she said, fascinated at the swollen thickness of his length and tipped curve of his head. Quentin stepped forward and kneeled, picking her legs up to toss them over his shoulder.

“You’re not scared, are you?” his deep voice drummed. Taking his shaft in his hand, Quentin popped the top of her vagina with his distended member.

Phoebe quivered softly, then lied, “No, but…” she hesitated, and so did he.

“But what?” he said, easing down on top of her with the head of his penis at her opening.

“Be careful... please,” she said.

Something in her voice gave him pause, and Quentin studied her for a long moment. A thought crossed his mind, and he shook it off with a dismissing laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, “I’m tripping, I almost thought…”

“Thought what?”

Quentin kissed her lips. “For some reason, I got the crazy idea that you could be a virgin.” He chuckled and pressed into her, but her vagina was sealed shut even with her being superbly wet.

Phoebe shut her eyes and bit her bottom lip. “Quentin,” she said.

“Yes, baby.”

“I am a virgin.”

Quentin’s movements froze, and a second passed before he withdrew from her completely to sit back on his haunches.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed, her eyes wide with panic.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

Phoebe closed her legs and sat up. “What reason would I have to lie to you? I don’t understand, what’s the problem?”

 Quentin covered his mouth with his hand briefly then dropped his hand as his probing gaze dug into her. “You came here knowing we would possibly have sex, but you’re a virgin.”

Exasperated, Phoebe nodded and shrugged as annoyance crept in. “Yeah, so, what’s your point?”

Quentin was quiet again, trying to find his words but incredibly taken aback by her revelation.

“What is it? You don’t like virgins?” Phoebe folded her arms, seconds from getting out of pocket.

“What?” he balked. “No, I mean yes, I mean…” he sighed and slipped his arms back around her waist, sinking his face into her chest.

Phoebe draped her arms over his shoulders and hugged him, embracing his strong back as he breathed into the center of her breasts. Neither of them moved, for long seconds, they just held one another in a warm blanket of heat. Quentin’s hands trailed up her back then down her spine to her bare buttocks.

Phoebe didn’t know what to think. To say she was confused was putting it mildly. But she waited for him to say something. Anything that would explain why they weren’t having sex.

Quentin turned his face up to speak when a heavy knock ricocheted against the screen door.

“Aye yo, Q!” Jonathon yelled inside. “I hope you don’t have company, man, because I’m coming in.”

Quentin and Phoebe both cursed at the same time.

“Where are you, man, we’re all going down to the beach to have a last night celebration before brunch tomorrow.”

Jonathon’s voice was getting closer, and quickly, Quentin removed himself from Phoebe’s grasp and stepped back into his shorts. Phoebe had never seen a man move that fast. Only lightning could beat his speed. Within seconds Quentin was standing at his bedroom door just in time to stop Jonathon from coming any further.

“You know,” Quentin said, “it’s rude to just enter a man’s quarters and traipse all through his space without permission.”

Jonathon cracked a smile. “Then you shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked and opened. I could’ve been anyone coming in to leave you for dead.”

At the mention of death, Quentin eased out of the room and shut the door behind him, just as Jonathon peeped a pair of bikini bottoms on the floor. Jonathon smirked.

“Oh, you got company. I should’ve known,” he said. “Who is it, the girl from the hotel bar?”

“No,” Quentin said, peeking over his shoulder.

Jonathon shut his jaw. “My bad,” he whispered. “Why don’t you bring her down, and you guys can get back to your thing afterward.”

“I think you and the fellas can have fun without us,” Quentin retorted.

“You’re right,” Jonathon said, “we could, but it’s our only night. Besides,” he slapped a hand on Quentin’s shoulder and whispered, “The one with the shortcut bob that was eye-fucking you from the karaoke machine is down there. I know you want to get at her. She’s your type.”

A thump sounded against the bedroom door, and Quentin knew Phoebe was listening to their conversation.

“I’ll tell you what, if that will get you the hell out of here, let’s go,” Quentin said.

“Wait, you’re not going to get ya girl?” Jonathon frowned.

“Na’ll, she’ll be waiting when I get back.”

Jonathon chuckled. “Aight, let’s go.”

“Let me grab a shirt. I’ll be outside in a minute.”

“Do that,” Jonathon said.

Jonathon turned to leave; his heavy footsteps neared the front door before the screen bounced off its hinges from his exit. Quentin re-entered the bedroom to find a now clothed Phoebe scowling with her arm crossed.

Quentin moved closer to her and kept his voice low.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I don’t think you are,” she said.

Quentin sighed. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Tell him to take a hike.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “I have a feeling if I was the girl at the bar, you wouldn’t be so quick to leave.”

“Do you have to make this about us?”

“It is, isn’t it? Be honest with me, Quentin. If I were some random chick,” she paused. “A random virgin chick,” she added, “would you be so quick to leave?”

Quentin gritted his teeth. “You don’t understand.”

“That’s one thing you’ve got right,” she said, pushing past him to leave.

Quentin caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. It seems there’s a bonfire on the beach that everyone’s in a hurry to get to.”

She tried to shake him off, but he tightened his grip.

“If you walk out that door, you’ll run straight into your brother,” he said.

Phoebe shrugged. “I’m not the one scared of him,” she insisted.

Quentin narrowed his eyes and pulled her back, firmly, against his chest.

“This has nothing to do with me being scared of anyone, and you know it.”

“Whatever,” she said. “You better leave, or I will.” Phoebe folded her arms.

Quentin wavered, and she lifted a brow with her mouth tight and her attitude on ten.

“As you wish,” he said, walking around her to leave the room.

“No, as you wish,” she mumbled under breath. It would be the last time she ever gave Quentin Davidson the time of day.