She felt, more than saw, his smile. “Do what?” he asked before pushing his tongue back inside her.

“You know what!” It was a plea.

“I’m not sure I do,” he answered with a teasing flick of his tongue. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Quinn, come on!”

“Elise, come on.” He mimicked her in between soft, sweet swipes of his tongue.

The pleasure was building, taking her higher, but still he didn’t let her come. Finally, when she couldn’t take any more, when the pleasure was so intense it was almost pain, she pleaded, “Make me come. Please, Quinn. I have to come.”

He groaned low in his throat, his hands clenching on her hips. Then, with one wicked swirl of his tongue on her clit, he sent her careening into orgasm. A few more flicks and the quick slide of his fingers inside her had her spiraling up and over again.

And still he wasn’t done.

Sitting up for just a moment, he draped her legs over his shoulders, using his hands to spread her thighs even wider. And then he looked at her, just looked at her, for long seconds.

“Quinn, what are you—”

“Shh.” He leaned forward and pressed a long, lingering kiss against her sex. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

She laughed, but it came out as more of a sob. “I thought you already did.”

She felt more than saw him smile. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years. Believe me when I say, I’m just getting started.”

Then he lowered his head and whispered something dark and obscene against the very heart of her. Before she could even assimilate what he’d said, he pulled her clit into his mouth and began to suck.

She came like a shattering crescendo, her body spiraling up and over the edge so quickly that she hadn’t even seen it coming. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but feel as she waited for whatever he was going to do next.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, taking her over. Frightening her with its intensity. She’d spent so much of her life not feeling anything that feeling all this, at once, was completely overwhelming, as overwhelming as Quinn himself. The pleasure was so real, so raw, so all encompassing that she couldn’t help being a little scared of it, certain it was going to take over every part of her.

For long moments, she struggled to regain control. But Quinn would have no part of it, no part of anything that gave her even a chance to breathe. Instead, he swirled his tongue around her clit, again and again until she bucked against his mouth in an effort to get closer, to get away. But he wouldn’t let her. He held her in place with his strong musician’s hands, and took her over completely.

Need built in her again, sharp and all consuming, and she didn’t know what to do. She was going to lose her mind, her control, maybe even her heart right here and now and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He was taking her and in doing so was knocking down every wall she’d spent so long building between herself and the world.

The thought terrified her and for the first time she pushed at him, tried to squirm away. “Quinn, stop. I can’t—”

“You can.” His voice, that magic, melodic voice, was lower, harsher than she had ever heard it. And when she glanced into his eyes, she was trapped by the flames flickering there, building to a towering inferno that threatened to consume every part of her.

His tongue—his wicked, wonderful, wild tongue—went from quick swirls to long, luxurious licks that had her hurtling, inconceivably, toward another orgasm. Ecstasy trembled along nerve endings that hadn’t recovered from the last climb as he used his teeth, his tongue, his lips on her.

“Look at me,” he demanded and her eyes flew open. Met his obsidian ones, and what she saw there ripped through the defenses she’d spent so many years building. This wasn’t just sex for Quinn, wasn’t just a quick romp with an old girlfriend. He was taking her, claiming her, demanding more from her than she’d ever wanted to give and as he did, ensuring that she’d never be able to forget him.

A high, keening sound came from within her at the thought, filling the room and making Quinn’s entire body tense. Slipping a hand between her thighs, he thrust first one finger and then another inside of her. He found her sweet spot and stroked—once, twice—before pulling out to spread her wetness over and around her anus. Again and again he pressed against her and she whimpered, nearly out of her mind with the need for more. Always more.

Just when she was certain he wasn’t going to do it, when she was certain she would lose her mind, Quinn slipped one long, calloused finger inside her and started to stroke. Another orgasm whipped through her and he thrust his tongue inside her, groaning at the feel of her inner muscles fluttering around him.

She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, couldn’t function, and still he f**ked her with his mouth, with his fingers, with his tongue. Sucking, licking, thrusting his tongue deep inside her until one orgasm blended into another. And another. The more pleasure she took, the more pleasure he was determined to give her until she couldn’t do anything but take it. Take him.

“Quinn, no,” she finally gasped. He had to stop. He had to. She couldn’t survive another—

He laughed, a dark, rich sound that burned through her blood. Then he thrust his tongue inside her and hurtled her, just that easily, into yet another climax.

“I’ll never get enough of tasting you,” he growled in between long swipes of his tongue. “I’ll never get enough of watching you unravel in my arms. I could go down on you all night.”

“Please, I can’t—”

“You can.” Once again, he slid his tongue between her slick folds and licked her to madness. Once again, he thrust his fingers inside of her sex, her anus, and stroked her to insanity. And once again he sent her flying into climax, stars exploding in front of her unseeing eyes as she whimpered and sobbed and pleaded with him to take her.

Finally, finally, when she was on the brink of losing herself, he lifted her legs from his shoulders and placed them gently on the piano bench. Then he pushed to his feet and looked down at her lying there, so worn out that she was resting bonelessly against the piano.

“I can’t take any more,” she told him hoarsely, licking her lips in a desperate attempt to quench her thirst. “You have to do it.”

“Do what?” he asked, cupping her chin in one large hand so that she had no chance of looking anywhere but at him.

“Fuck me, please. You have to f**k me.”

…

Elise’s shattered plea broke over him like a summer storm and Quinn nearly trembled in relief. Part of him had wanted nothing more than to stay kneeling between her legs all night, bringing her off again and again and again, until she couldn’t remember the sorrow of losing Ellington, the pain of losing her career, the fear he knew she had deep down of losing herself.

But then she’d asked him to take her, to f**k her, and he’d never been able to say no to Elise. Even in the old days when he’d spent so much of his time messing with her for the sheer pleasure of watching her lose her temper, he’d never been able to deny her anything. Tonight was no different.

Especially as he stood here looking down at her body, all flushed and gorgeous and needy. Sometime in the last hour she’d gone from leaning against the piano to lying over it and he could honestly say he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life than Elise spread out over his Bosendorfer.

Her back was arched over the keys and action frame of the piano so that her br**sts were thrust upward like they were just waiting for his mouth while her head was resting on the lid of the piano, her long, dark hair fanned out across its surface.

Reaching out, he rubbed a finger across her lower lip, just for the sheer pleasure of touching her. Of seeing her lips part and her eyes flutter closed. Then, because he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her, he slid his finger over her chin, down the slender column of her neck, over her breastbone and down the center line of her body until the tip was pressed right up against her clit again.

Elise moaned even as she pressed her hips up to meet his touch. He loved that, loved how responsive she was. Loved how she let him touch her anywhere and everywhere.

The thought overwhelmed him and the tight rein he’d been keeping on himself broke. With a desperate groan, he ripped at his jeans, shoving them down his thighs and onto the floor. He paused only long enough to yank a condom out of his wallet and put it on before he was on her, slamming himself up and into her, burying himself balls deep with his very first thrust.

The piano keys groaned discordantly, but he barely heard them as Elise clamped around him like a greedy fist. She was slick and wet and burning hot, and for a moment he was truly convinced he would lose it before he could make her come one last time.

Gritting his teeth against the sensations gathering at the base of his spine, Quinn worked to hold onto the razed edges of his control. Then Elise whimpered—her hands yanking at his hair, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, her pu**y pulling at his cock—and he knew he’d reached the end of his patience.

He rode her hard, his hands braced on the piano as he kept his gaze on hers. He’d spent ten years thinking about the one and only time he’d made love to her, and though he didn’t regret leaving—how could he when he’d done it to keep her safe—he was going to savor every second of having her back in his arms again. Of having her beneath him, her hips moving restlessly against his as he thrust inside of her.

Over and over he pressed into her satin heat until the fire between them threatened to consume him. Flames of pleasure flashed through him, burning him up with the intensity of the emotions and the sensations that had taken over his body. He needed the release, needed the sanity that would come with emptying himself inside of Elise. But there was a part of him that wanted to keep making love to her, that wanted to stay like this forever, connected to her by his body and by the overwhelming pleasure that burned between them.

Sweat beaded on his chest, rolled down his back, but still he refused to stop. He thrust into her over and over again, trying to get as close to and as deep in her as he could. Trying to get inside more than her body. Trying to wipe out the specter of the past and all the shit that had gone down between them a decade before.

His arms trembled under the onslaught, his c**k screamed for relief and still he continued to move inside her.

Elise was sobbing, pleading, her muscles contracting more and more tightly around him with every slam of his hips. Her nails dug into his back, her teeth into his shoulder, and still he kept at her. Her legs circled his hips, her hands clutched at his back and he knew that he couldn’t hold on any longer. She felt too good, too real, too perfect.

He was buried deep, as close to her as he could get, when he felt the orgasm rip through her, a deep, dark wave of sensation so powerful that it swamped him, buried him, dragged him under before he could find the will to resist. His own orgasm welled up within him, the sweet clutch of her body sending him right over the edge and beyond, to a place where nothing existed but the pleasure and the pain of being with Elise again.

It started at the base of his spine and spread out from there, through his dick, his stomach, up his back, around to his chest. Ecstasy, agony, aching desire roaring through him, flowing from him to her and back again as he emptied himself inside her in a series of powerful, all-encompassing waves.

Elise wrapped herself around him—her arms, her legs, herself—and for the first time in ten long years, Quinn let himself go. And for now, for this one perfect moment in time, it was enough.

Chapter Twelve

Elise came back to herself slowly, aftershocks of sexual gratification still tearing through her body. She hadn’t known sex could be like that, hadn’t known anything could be like that. So decadent and overwhelming and pleasurable. Good God, the pleasure had nearly killed her.