Bad Boyfriend (10 page)

“Oh.” Quinn’s hands landed on Eli ass, shoving under his clothes to find skin, and lifted him up. “God, yes.”

Eli wrapped both legs around Quinn’s hips, a hand busy getting their dicks together, working what slick he could get from the tips as they started grinding.

Quinn’s fingers dug in, and Eli’s mouth opened on an almost silent moan. Quinn dove into his mouth, chocolate, cream, then just heat and Eli’s tongue meeting his. Quinn’s common sense left his brain, riding the blood flow down to his balls, where Eli’s fingers teased and tugged, hard enough for an ache that sweetened as their shafts rubbed together. It was dirty, raw, hot and stupider than anything Quinn had managed even as a desperately horny teen. His—Peter’s—family was out there, and he was humping away in a bathroom stall.

Eli’s mouth and tongue mimicked what his hand and fingers were doing, stroking along Quinn’s lips in long licks as his fingers found the shapes under the tightening skin of his sac. Wet slow kisses as his palm pressed hard flesh against hard flesh, a flick of tongue to chase his thumb over the head and then a deep suck as he tugged.

Quinn’s hips picked up the pace, driving their cocks together, and Eli clung to his shoulders now, legs squeezing. Dimly Quinn’s brain sent up a warning flag about flimsy construction and getting caught when the stall collapsed around them, but Quinn told his brain to get fucked, and lifted Eli higher, getting the perfect drag of skin and slick cockheads.

Eli tore his mouth free. “Please.”

The word made pleasure wash sweeter through his pipes, everything getting so hot at the tip of his cock it burned.

Eli wrapped a finger in the curl of long hair at the nape of Quinn’s neck and yanked.

“Go ahead, honey. I got you.” Quinn breathed it along the sweat on Eli’s neck.

“Finger me. C’mon. Need it.”

Oh, Christ. Eli would fucking kill him. Gripping tighter, he inched his index finger into the warm crease, found the velvety ripples damp from Eli’s sweat. Soft, but hard too.

“Relax.”

“Fuck that. Now.”

Quinn pressed. Eli jerked.

“Yeah. Gimme two.”

Quinn lined up another and shoved. Eli bucked and rocked into him. Trying to hold him, hold them together, was like trying to hang on to that moment right before he came when everything was bright and perfect as the sparks built to the point of no return. Then everything tipped.

Arching farther back, Eli grabbed two fistfuls of sweater and curled his hands around it, muffling his moans in Quinn’s shoulder as he pumped hot and slick between their bodies. The wet warmth sliding over Quinn’s cock was all he needed to follow over the edge, hips jerking and teeth digging into his lip to keep from shouting.

Quinn managed to keep his feet, dragging Eli back toward him as a bolt in the wall clanged loose. The stall rocked and settled back, amazingly still upright.

Quinn wanted to sink onto the filthy tiles, but he held on as their breathing slowed and Eli tried to separate himself without leaving come all over their clothes. They were marginally successful. The cloakroom was just across the hall. After they cleaned up, a sprint would get them to the extra protection of another layer—and then maybe a quick disappearance.

Eli tilted his head as he scrubbed with the toilet paper. “I think we saved most of the sweater.” He hitched his pants back up over his ass and eyed them both. “The sink will help.”

Quinn met Eli’s gaze and held it. In less than twenty-four hours, this piece of ass in black eyeliner, Eli—whose last name he didn’t even know, who was barely a few years older than the kids in his class—had completely rewritten all the rules Quinn followed to keep his life on a peaceful path.

He should have been furious, he should have been scared, and he was, but those feelings were taking a backseat to an overwhelming sense of gratitude—floating on a fresh wave of joy—like being caught in a gentle summer rain that rinsed away the weight of heat and humidity.

He reacted to it the way he would have standing in that sweet shower—he drank in the source.

Eli’s eyes were wary, but they closed as Quinn gave him a slow kiss. Eli pulled back, but Quinn took him under the jaw and kissed away that resistance. Almost as soon as Eli was kissing him back, he was reaching out to unlock the door.

“I think we’d better see if we can salvage our clothes with some water.”

“I’ll run and get our jackets,” Quinn promised.

But he didn’t.

Because leaning against the door, blocking it with a full body sneer, was Peter.

Chapter Seven

Eli followed Quinn out of the stall and felt his body snap into tension. “What?” Eli looked around Quinn and caught sight of the newly straight ex-boyfriend. “Oh.”

“You couldn’t keep it in your pants for an hour?” Peter’s voice was filled with loathing. “There are children here.”

“I doubt we have to worry about Faith in the men’s room. She can read. And if Gabe makes it in here on his own, I think there’s a lot more we should be talking about.” Quinn was calmer than Eli could have managed, though Eli felt the absurd need to slip around him. Not to get between them to break up a potential fight, but to shield Quinn from the look Peter had leveled at his ex. One that said
what the hell did I ever see in you?

“Maybe that piece of bar trash you dragged along to humiliate me doesn’t know how decent people behave, but—”

Quinn didn’t raise his voice, but the soft tone had an edge that cut through Peter’s complaint. “You watch your fucking mouth about him.”

Eli’d had enough of hanging in the background. He stepped in front of Quinn. “I got this one, baby.”

Peter’s face was a splotchy red. It might have been puffed with anger, but Eli saw the flicker of something else in his eyes, had seen it in plenty of men’s eyes.

Eli ignored Quinn’s maneuvers between the sink and the urinals to get back in front, and stood his ground. “This piece of bar trash might not know how decent people behave, but he has a keen sense of smell. Someone besides the two of us got off in here, and don’t expect me to think one of the old guys from the bar out front came in to whip it on live gay porn.”

Peter’s flush deepened. “I’ve been standing here to make sure you didn’t get caught. To protect my family from—”

“We’ve covered the kids, and your father and brother don’t strike me as the kind of people to be scarred for life if they trip over people having sex.”

“Normal people do not have sex in a bathroom. What the hell kind of thing are you?” Peter sneered.

Quinn put his hand on Eli’s back, and Eli stepped more determinedly between them. “I’m the kind of thing Quinn picked. When you were jerking off in here, what got to you most? The memory of his body? God, he’s strong. The way he sounds? Those grunts he makes? They’re all mine now. How does that feel, Peter?”

Peter turned toward the urinals. “Get him out of here, Quinn. Right the hell now.”

“I’ll be sure to say goodbye to your beautiful wife.” Eli let Quinn push him through the door, but when it seemed Quinn was going to stay back, Eli grabbed his hand.

“No.” Eli tugged. “Leave him. He made his own fucking mess.”

“Pull yourself together, Peter,” was all Quinn said before he followed Eli into the alcove where their jackets were.

“Here.” Eli handed Quinn his sport coat and shrugged into his own blazer. After tucking the stained tails of his dress shirt into his jeans, praying no one saw him looking like a nerd, he handed his hooded sweater to Quinn. “Hold this over your arm in front of the spot. There.”

“Eli—”

“I know. I’m something else.” Eli spread the sweater out a little bit. “Just one more service I provide. Tell them I have to go take pictures for something.”

“A photographic emergency? In the arts community?” Quinn produced a smile without his usual mockery in it.

“It can get pretty wild.” Eli nodded solemnly, then focused on buttoning his blazer. That smile was freaking lethal, especially to a guy with two Canadian whiskeys, a recent orgasm and Peter-needs-his-ass-kicked adrenaline in his system. No wonder it had Eli’s stomach doing back flips. But as amazing as the smile was, Eli’d had more than enough of dysfunctional fun for one day.

“I’m so sorry you have to leave,” Claire said, and Eli managed to keep her hug confined to an arm pat. He may have been exaggerating about his sense of smell, but he was pretty sure he and Quinn weren’t exactly exuding freshness. “I’ll call you and we’ll set up a time for the family picture, all right?” she continued, maintaining her grip on his arm. “Be sure to bring a camera that has a timer so you can be in the shot too.”

“Absolutely.”

“And don’t forget our shopping date,” Alyssa added.

“I’m so glad you were a part of this.” Chrissy managed to get her arms around Quinn, though he gamely kept the sweater draped in front. “I know it meant a lot to Peter.”

Eli barely managed to avoid swallowing his tongue.

Chrissy let them go with a “We’ll be in touch,” and then they made it safely into the parking lot.

Quinn settled into the driver’s seat with a long sigh. “Thanks. I think.” He started the car. “Where to?”

“I was going to suggest your place again. I had the whole Facebook post planned out. My Thirty-Seven-Hour Date.”

“But now?”

“My apartment would be good, thanks.”

“I guess I owe you some kind of explanation.” Quinn stared straight ahead but didn’t put the car in drive.

“You don’t owe me anything, really. I got fucked. I got fed. I could have skipped the church bit, but other than that it wasn’t a bad date. Believe me. I’ve had worse.”

“That sounds like an interesting story.” Quinn backed out of the space and headed east out of the parking lot.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Except on Facebook?”

“It was going to be very general, I swear. I never give any incriminating details like tattoos or Daddy kinks.”

Quinn’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I’d never done that before.”

Eli hadn’t ever found anyone who gave him as much as he could handle before either, but he wasn’t admitting that. “Really? You’re a natural. I loved it.”

Silence followed them downtown. As they waited at the light on Broadway in front of Johns Hopkins, Quinn turned to face him.

“Ten years,” he said without any need for clarification.

“Fuck.” Eli couldn’t picture that length of time. Being with anyone, living anywhere, having the same job. Ten years. To have something that felt that solid and then— “Damn.”

Quinn shrugged and took a left on Fayette. “What’s funny is that I’m a lot happier now.”

Eli wasn’t. The weight of it seemed to press him into the seat. He wanted to get out and jog the rest of the way. There wasn’t any parking, for which Eli was grateful, but there wasn’t any traffic eager to move Quinn along when he double parked in front of the apartment.

“So I owe you one,” Quinn said.

Owed him—oh. Their agreement. But Eli was thinking about ten years of a family where you suddenly didn’t belong anymore. How did Quinn stand it, being around them because what, they felt sorry for him?

“No problem, like I said.”

Quinn’s half smile looked hesitant this time. “Eli, I want to see you again.”

“You’re sweet.”

Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “Sweet?”

“And hot. And fucking awesome in bed. But that whole thing—it’s kind of more complicated than I’m comfortable with.”

“Welcome to life, kid.”

“And thanks for ending this on a patronizing note, Daddy.” Eli shoved open his door.

“Wait.” Quinn crooked a finger in Eli’s belt loop, but instead of copping a feel, which would have done a lot to fix his last stupid remark, he fished Eli’s phone out of his pocket. He fiddled with it for a couple of seconds before handing it back. “Now you’ve got my number if you change your mind.” He unhooked his seat belt.

Eli supposed a kiss wouldn’t be a bad ending either, but Quinn didn’t kiss him. He twisted Eli’s lapel around a fist and dragged Eli close enough to growl in his ear. “Because I always keep my promises.”

Eli peeled off his clothes and crammed them in the top of his laundry bag. Not that he had enough money to do laundry. Or to write the check for his share of the rent that Marcy was going to be in his face about though it was only the tenth and it technically wouldn’t be late until the fifteenth.

“But it’s due on the first,” she’d whine again, like she had been since she moved in. Which wouldn’t be a problem except blah-blah-blah dropping ad revenues and if Nate could keep any photographer on staff he’d keep Eli. But when most of the staff writers got cut, so did Eli, and now he was down to getting paid per assignment.

And none of that would suck nearly as much if the hottest sex of Eli’s life hadn’t just happened with a completely unavailable, hung-up-on-his-asshole-ex, wrapped-up-in-family-drama, gorgeous, sexy, not-at-all-an-arrogant-dick man.

He flopped onto his mattress. If Casey hadn’t moved down to nowhere North Carolina, they’d sit on the couch and analyze Quinn until Eli either erased his number or figured out a way to get the awesome sex without the complications.