Liam Davis & The Raven (24 page)

I stroked my cock. “
I don’t say things unless I’m sure about them. And I’m sure I want you behind me. In me.”

His cock twitched and his gaze grew hooded.
He touched warm fingers to my side and I rolled over onto my stomach, stretching my arms out on either side of me, palms open against the sheets.

“All right,” he said, uncapping the lube and dribbling the cold liquid in a line down my ass. “You can change your mind any time, and if you don’t like something
—”

“I’ll tell you.”

Quinn chuckled. “Yeah, I know you will.”

His hand came down at my shoulder and squeezed, and then he massaged his way over my back to the base. A light kiss hit between my shoulder blades as his finger drew over the lube
, running over my entrance to the base of my balls.

I arched my ass up
toward him and, on his path back up, Quinn dipped his lubed finger right where I wanted it. He was thorough with preparing me, which I appreciated on a logical level, but which teased me almost to the point of yelling at him to hurry up and slide in already.

Perhaps he guessed my thoughts, because he chuckled lightly and finally lowered his length over me.
He nuzzled my neck as he firmly rolled his fingers down my arms and linked our hands. He squeezed them as he rubbed his cock between my cheeks. The condom was on, but the lube was plentiful and he glided back and forth as he breathed heavily in my ear. “You feel so good.”

An electric
, beaded shiver had me thrusting harder against the sheets and urging my ass back so he would take me.

“Okay, Liam,” he said, and shifted, one hand coming off mine as he gently angled my ass and aligned the tip of his cock at my entrance.
He pushed in, his head popping inside, stretching me. I drew in a breath and clenched my fingers tighter around his hand.

“Keep going.”

He pushed in carefully, filling me with his thick length as he fed me encouraging little strokes with his thumb.

It stung a bit, but I’d had no illusion
s it wouldn’t. He gave me a moment to adjust to the full feeling and then drew back a short way and thrust slowly, gradually increasing the length and speed of his thrusts.

At first, mos
t of the pleasure came from the thought that Quinn was deeply seated in me, that we were so
close
. I derived pleasure from the trust and from hearing how much it undid Quinn; the way he groaned and panted, the light nips on my ear when he held himself still for a moment, trying not to spill too early.

M
y body accepted and anticipated the rhythm, trying to arch back and thrust into the sheets at the perfect moment. My cock grew hard again and with even more zeal and impatience than before. Quinn shifted our positions slightly so we lay more on our sides. My feet pressed against his for leverage, and he gripped my cock and stroked it in time to his thrusts.

His mouth opened on my shoulder and bit down gently and suddenly I needed Quinn to move faster, harder
—

He moved as if he read my thoughts, and then he rolled his hips, and a burst of sensation had me whimpering against my arm. “That
. Again.”

He rocked against the spot again.

“Keep doing that,” I panted, pushing a hand against the bed to increase the friction as I pitched faster on him.

“Oh, fuck. Liam!”

His hand jerked me faster, and he nipped again at my shoulder all the way up to my neck, where his body tensed and froze around me. His cock pumped with his orgasm, and the combination of mental and physical pleasure of it sent my climax hurtling out in five powerful ropes, splashing over my chest.

Our rapid breaths slowly calmed, and Quinn drew his arm tight around me for a moment until his cock slipped out and he rolled back to take care of the condom.

A kiss met the back of my head, and air stirred as Quinn got up and left the room. He came back a minute later with a warm washcloth.

“How are you doing?” he asked
, and wiped my chest clean.

I flexed my ass. “
Tender, but I’m thankful for it.”

He laughed, and
strategically folded the washcloth and placed it on his bedside table. The bed dipped and bowed as Quinn lay down again and folded the blankets around us from the sides. “I’m thankful for you too.”

He kissed my cheek and rearranged himself
so he stared up. The sunlight blotting through the tree and into the window made shadows play across the cream ceiling.

He said quietly, “I’m sorry for our beginning, though. I should never have made assumptions
about you before I knew you. The strange thing is, even when I was saying them, I still felt this thing.”

“Thing?”

“The thing that led to the pathetic crush.”

“Attraction, you mean?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Since reading your first description of me in that damn notebook.”

“If I had it here right now, I’d
jot down a few other adjectives. You’re really quite the sight.”

Quinn rolled over suddenly, fanning cool air between us. He turned back with a pen.
“Go ahead.”

I shifted onto my side and took the pen
, pressing the tip on his arm. In cursive, I wrote:

Disheveled
. Rakish.

And then,
thinking of the sex we’d just had:

Strong. Safe. Tender.

The pen slipped when Quinn spoke: “Hunter gave me more details about the idea for your article.”

I continued with
Considerate.

“I think he’s right. Y
ou should do it.”

“I was going to, anyway,” I said, and
after a moment added, “but it makes things . . . better that you’re okay with it.”

He stilled his hand over mine on the pen and drew it away, shifting to hold my gaze.
“Remember when I came to this apartment the first time and you told me it belongs to your dad?”

“Yes.”

“You said there were no hurt feelings hidden anywhere. That it is what it is. But it’s not, is it?”

So
Hunter had spilled more than details about the article. “No, it’s not.”

Quinn glanced to the dancing shadows and back.
“I’m sorry, Liam.”

I rolled over him to the side of the bed and shrugged. Quinn tried to grab me, but I dodged him. It was time I get up and get on with the day, anyway. “H
e’ll get to know me,” I said as I slipped my robe over my shoulders. “I’ll score that position.” And then—more to myself than to Quinn—I said, “I’m not going to fail.”

The Friday
following Thanksgiving weekend, Hunter rang. “Wish me luck on my date.”

I held the phone to my shoulder with my ear as I packed my laptop into my bag. “Don’t you make your own luck?”

A short silence, and then, “Make a toast with me: to the most unforgettable night.”

I scoured around and picked up a glass of tepid water I’d had at my bedside. “To the most unforgettable night.”

I swallowed the water, but it left an acrid taste in my mouth. Closing my bag, I asked, “Have you talked to Shannon yet? Quinn said he tried, but things are still awkward.”

I trudged into the
living room and grabbed my keys from behind the cookbook stand on the bench. Quinn had marked an eggplant lasagna he wanted to try out on an unwilling me.

“I tried a couple of times,” Hunter said, his voice thin down the line. “Both major
fails. But I’m sure things will pick up between her and Quinn soon.”

As if he heard his name, Quinn, lying on the couch talking
on his cellphone, looked my way. He covered the receiver and mouthed, “Off to the office?”

“Tonight’s the night.” After a week of interviews and research, I’d
drafted my article. And it was good. In need of fleshing out, and possibly rearranging in some parts, but I liked where it was going. “
Scribe
, here I come.”

Hunter was the first to respond, “Fuck, dude. You’ll rock this. If what I saw was anything to go by, you have this in the bag.”

Quinn hummed something into his cell and hung up. “And the party of the week? If you like, I can go somewhere and write notes for you?”

I checked my pocket for my notebook and pen. There. There. Good. “I’m pushing that to tomorrow, unless I’m feeling particularly sprightly come midnight.”

Hunter snorted in my ear. “Sprightly. Love it. Get cracking on that article, and send me and my buddies a copy when you’re done, yeah?”

He disengaged, and I slipped the phone into my bag. Quinn was there the moment it slid into the snug pocket. “No matter what happens with your report, whether or not you get features editor and what your dad does or doesn’t say
,
I
already think you’re amazing.”

A soft, brief kiss punctuated his words. “But I know how much this means to you, so
 . . .” A sudden slap sizzled my ass. “Get cracking, Liam.”

The night was thick and chilled, so of course my bus came late and I climbed on with chattering teeth and my jacket done up to my chin. I could have walked to campus faster, and now that I’d had three self-defense lessons, I was confident enough for it too.

By the time I arrived, the church bells in the distance were chiming eight o’clock. Never mind. At least I’d gone through my outline on my way over and knew exactly how I’d tackle it. It shouldn’t take me longer than an hour to finish. And at
Scribe
—the reason I’d packed myself up to go there—I worked best. Something in the atmosphere of the place really kick-started my engine. Besides, this moment I wanted to remember for a long time, so along with the email I’d also lay a copy of the article on the chief’s desk.

Outside the ugly concrete block that was my destination, my phone trilled, vibrating in my bag.

Quinn.

I answered, “You miss me already.” His chuckle was breezy in my ear. Beeping came down the line. “Are you going out for the night?”

“How’d you know?”

“Street noise.”

“Right. Well, I’m heading to that cathedral party.”

“Not to interfere with Hunter’s date, I hope.”

“Nah. Shannon called and told me her date was a bust, he never showed up. So I have to get my ass down there. I’m using any opportunity to get us on the right footing again. I bought her blue roses, her favorites. Any other advice?”

I used my key-card to get inside. “If you dance, let her lead.”

“Damn, but I really can’t figure out how the steps go in reverse.”

“Bye, Quinn.”

He grumbled and disconnected.

I climbed to the
Scribe
floor, expecting to have the office to myself this late on a Friday evening, but milky light came through
Scribe
’s fogged glass doors. I let myself inside—

A large grunting sob echoed through the room, tensing my limbs. Stiffly, I searched where the sound emanated from. I was never one to deal well with other people’s tears, and when my gaze settled on Jill, head tucked into his elbow at his desk, I was even less prepared.