Fireline, страница 1
Table of Contents
More titles by Annabel Allan | For more information about Annabel Allan | and other Accent Press titles | please visit | www.accentpress.co.uk
Published by Accent Press Ltd 2016
I stood in the meeting area of Pearson Airport on the Arrivals level, just outside baggage claim.
I looked around as people filed out of the terminal, getting off their flights and heading to get their baggage. I was anxious, biting my lip, even though I had lipstick on. I licked my teeth when I realized I was doing it, making sure I didn’t have lipstick on them.
I wanted to look nice; I wore a little black skirt that didn’t bring much attention to my small hips but oodles to my legs, making them seem longer. I paired it with a V-neck sea foam green top, showing the tiniest bit of cleavage. My silver locket sat in it, definitely bringing attention to it as well.
I shifted on my black booties, which gave me an extra four inches of height, making me a whopping 5’10”. I had my blonde hair down and straight, the ends tickling my back. I held my brown leather jacket, my eyes continuing to scan around, waiting to spot the man of my dreams.
I’d been away from Robert Quinlan for thirty-two days. I counted every slow and painful one, dealing with short phone calls once a week and letters I was allowed to send and receive. Thirty-two days doesn’t sound like that long, but when you’re in love, it’s a fucking eternity.
You see, Robert Quinlan was my boyfriend. That’s right, the sexiest man in all of Toronto, in all the world, was with me. But with some boyfriends come some demons. I finally understood his large back piece tattoo – a woman in a desolate land reaching for her lover; a man was reaching up from Hell, demons trying to pull him back into the deep. I get it. I totally get it.
Quinn had a lot of demons; his parents were killed in a car accident when he was twenty-two, which pushed him into a downward spiral of addiction. He spent eight years leaving a path of destruction in his wake before he decided it was time to change. He went to rehab, a six month rehab, rebuilding his life.
He was eight years sober until I came along. It all came crashing down one stupid night.
I was the one that encouraged him to visit rehab again. Not for six months, just thirty days; which felt like six months. I was beyond excited that I was finally going to see him.
I met Quinn while I was working at his law firm, Stucky, Curtis, and Slater. I was the virgin lusting after her boss, catching his attention – a day I will never forget – only to be told he ‘doesn’t do virgins’.
Obviously that wasn’t the case. We ended up in a fiery, lusty affair. There was a brief weekend break-up before I ended up moving in with him. There was even a brief talk of marriage... very brief. I was joking, really. It was waaaay too soon to talk about marriage.
So there I was, waiting in the terminal, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. What was I going to do when I saw him? Was I going to jump him, or was I going to walk up to him and give him a much needed hug? I didn’t know. I was going to improvise, do as my feelings dictated. Hopefully I didn’t make a scene.
I smiled, a wash of relief overcoming me at seeing his familiar 6’2 frame coming towards me. My eyes instantly went to his dark hair, which was always in luscious loose curls, the tips always kissing his collar.
I couldn’t contain my excitement; I ran towards him, grabbing hold of him and hugging him tightly, my urges converging together into one. I could smell his cologne, musky but a little sweet and leathery, always making desire swirl inside of me the moment it hit my nose. His arms wrapped around me, the warmth of his body seeping into my own.
It had felt like forever since I’d been held by Robert Quinlan. I had slept in our bed alone, spraying his cologne on one of his T-shirts, sleeping with it and sobbing like an idiot for thirty-two days. Now I had him in front of me, holding me so tight I almost couldn’t breathe. It was fantastic.
I pulled away, looking his face over; his high cheekbones, defined jaw, his amazing paradise green eyes, then to his chin, where he had some fuzz. I brushed my thumb against it. ‘This is new.’
‘You don’t like it?’ he asked, his deep voice making my toes curl in delight. I enjoyed hearing it over the phone, but hearing it in person made me want to break down and weep.
I smiled, leaning into him and kissing him, the first time in thirty-two days. I got completely lost in how soft his lips were, the taste of his mouth, his tongue, which ran over mine, making my loins catch on fire. I was brought out of the moment when I felt the new beard and moustache combo – more of a goatee when I really examined it.
‘A little scratchy,’ I said, running my thumb over it again.
‘I’ll shave it off,’ he said with a little smirk.
‘For me?’ I asked, looking into those eyes, making me weak in the knees. Good thing he was basically holding me up.
‘Who else am I going to kiss?’ he asked, which thrilled me no end. I loved hearing it, a signal that even though we had been away from each other for over a month, things were still the same.
‘How do I know you didn’t meet someone on the plane?’ I asked, looking to the collar of his black T-shirt, my eyes tracing to his chest. Of course, I wasn’t being serious... I mean, Quinn only ended up going back to rehab because of how much he was afraid to lose me. Why would he be kissing someone else on the plane?
‘I kept to myself,’ he said, giving an unimpressed look.
‘Well, now you’re all mine,’ I said, smiling brightly.
‘Indeed I am,’ he said, his green eyes meeting with mine, keeping me in a lusty gaze that made me want to squirm, sweat gathering on my forehead and on my palms. I couldn’t help getting hot flashes of our bodies slipping together, his hands, his mouth, his amazing body and what it could do for me.
‘Uh,’ I said, clearing my throat, ‘the car is waiting outside. We should get going if we want to miss rush hour.’
He nodded, letting go of me reluctantly.
He took my hand, which thrilled me no end, sending an electric shock through me. There was just something about being with your man and holding his hand; it put the relationship on display, showed everyone that each person belonged to each other. And I loved holding his hand, feeling how warm his soft skin was. I was worried about my hand being sweaty, but if it bothered him, he didn’t show it.
We got his bags first, two big black suitcases, probably some designer collection since Quinn didn’t like to own anything without a hefty price tag on it. Of course, he had the money to do that; he was worth almost $30 million. He could afford to buy a lot of things.
We made our way to the car, his driver opening the door for us. They gave each other a little nod, not exactly being friends, but I knew that Quinn appreciated Phil. I appreciated him too, since he was at my beck and call whenever I dragged my ass out of bed and actually did something with my life.
I got into the warm car, our hands not parting, even as he slipped in beside me. It was twenty-two degrees out, which wasn’t exactly warm, but I needed to roll down the window, get a little fresh air. I found myself shaking a little, my sto
Somewhere in my thoughts I realised he had let go of my hand, his own going to my thigh. I looked up to him, his eyes out the window, which was also opened, whipping the fresh May air into the car, through his hair, sending more of his cologne my way.
I squirmed in my seat, taking in the scent, trying to resist the feeling of his hand on my thigh, the temptation to put my hand over his and guide it up my skirt. I wanted him to touch me so badly, to feel his hands all over me.
My heart skipped a beat thinking of him inside me, something I hadn’t felt in over a month. I almost started panting. I got a pleasurable shock through me just imagining his hard cock pounding into me, just the way I liked it. And he knew how I liked it.
I knew then, as my face flushed from my naughty thoughts, that it was going to be a long forty-five minute ride to the condo.
It was silent the whole ride, which left me with my thoughts and Quinn’s hand on my thigh. My thoughts got dirtier and dirtier as the time passed, so I was thankful when we pulled up in front of the condo building which Quinn owned: Quinlan Estates.
It was tall, thirty floors, the sunlight hitting off the windows and making it sparkle. It was home to me now, so I was pleased when I saw the building, even more so when we got out of the car and Quinn grabbed his bags from the trunk.
He let me lead the way inside the building and into the elevator, using the key on his key chain to put the elevator on service, letting us ride up to the penthouse with ease.
It was still silent as we got up to our floor, the doors opening to a large entranceway. I unlocked the door, opening it wide for him so he could walk through, putting them down by the bar to our left.
The bar was before the kitchen. We usually ate at the bar, though we had replaced Quinn’s piano that had been to the right of it with a white table that put him back $2000. Not that the price mattered to him. It looked good and I had picked it out. He was happy with that.
Quinn straightened out, looking around the room. The first things one’s eye is drawn to are the floor to ceiling length windows overlooking the city.
The next thing that one notices – that I notice – is the lounge-like setting, a pristine white coffee table in the centre of the room, four chic white armchairs about it. Quinn had asked me to pick out sofas while he was away.
I could feel his whole body relax, even though I was a few feet away from him. He scanned around for a long time before his green eyes came to me.
‘Welcome home,’ I said.
He continued to stare at me before he walked towards me, closing the distance between us in two strides. He grabbed hold of me, leaning into me and kissing me. There is nothing like being frenched by Robert Quinlan. I had only ever kissed one other guy, but Quinn’s kissing made my toes curl and my whole body catch on fire.
He pulled away from me, gasping for air. ‘I missed you so fucking much.’
Tears came to my eyes as I held onto his hands clasping my face. ‘I know.’
He kissed me again before his body started to vibrate beneath me, pulling away and sweeping me up into his arms. I was always a little surprised whenever he did it, but I loved him carrying me, especially since I knew exactly where he was heading.
We ducked into the bedroom at the end of the little hallway. The walls were grey, the day bright through the windows.
The bed had been made, the corners all turned down prettily, the black silk sheets and pillowcases shimmering, the black duvet looking cozy. Of course, I had it that way so that Quinn would feel more comfortable, but at that moment I wasn’t thinking about the bed. I was thinking about what I wanted to do on the bed.
He set me down, leaning over me with his knee on the bed, taking off his shirt haphazardly, his hands fumbling as he tried to do it quickly. His hands were just as shaky as he took off his belt and undid his pants.
I took off my shirt, barely able to toss it to the floor before he was naked on top of me, his lips finding mine and sucking the breath out of me, his tongue flicking against mine. His hands moved down to my skirt, hiking it up and grabbing hold of my blue lacy panties and pulling them off, tossing them with my top.
He didn’t bother with my bra, or even with foreplay, grabbing hold of his hard erection and pushing into me, slipping in easily since I had revved myself up in the car ride with my dirty fantasies.
I gasped, that little initial delicious shock of him filling me up flashing over me. He gave a throaty groan, savouring the moment of being inside of me after being apart for so long. He started to thrust, a little gingerly at first, but his breathing soon picked up, another moan escaping him as he suddenly slammed into me. I gasped again, which goaded him on.
I called out, feeling the pleasure on the brink of pain, which again, goaded him on to continue, his pace picking up. I liked it hard and fast, but it was almost too hard and too fast. I almost couldn’t keep up with the sensations, feeling my orgasm starting to build. It always felt like the pleasure was being pulled to that one spot; this time was no different.
I was whimpering, the orgasm building to the point where I couldn’t take it any more.
‘Oh God, Quinn, I’m going to come,’ I said breathlessly.
‘Oh shit,’ he moaned, thrusting into me, making my orgasm explode within me, my eyes clamping shut as I moaned so loud I was sure that if we had neighbours, they would have heard.
His body jerked a few times as he came inside me, letting out a satisfied grunt, his head burying into my shoulder as he gasped for air. It was then that I noticed a little stinging, and that I was still wearing my shoes.
Quinn sat up, pulling out of me, which made it sting more. I winced, wondering what the hell happened to make it feel like that.
‘Shit,’ he said, ‘You’re bleeding.’
My eyes opened wide, looking down to see his cock smeared with blood – not a lot, but still enough to make me say, ‘Ew.’
I reached down, blood appearing on my fingers. I decided to get up, hobbling a little since my body wasn’t ready to cooperate with me, making my way to the bathroom.
I took off the skirt and booties, then my bra, since I knew I wasn’t going to need it. I left them in a pile on the floor.
I wiped away the blood, which wasn’t really that much. As a woman, you know how much a lot of blood is when it’s coming from your downstairs. I thought putting on a panty liner would be the best idea. I grabbed one as I made my way back into the bedroom, smiling until I saw Quinn sitting on the edge of the bed, looking more than distraught.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, putting the panty liner on the side table.
‘I hurt you,’ he said.
‘Oh, Quinn, no,’ I said, walking up to him and sitting down on his lap carefully. ‘It barely hurts. Just stings a little. Kind of like after I had sex for the first time, only that hurt a hell of a lot more. And the bleeding has stopped already.’
‘Then what’s with the pad?’ he asked, obviously not convinced.
‘It’s a panty liner, not a pad,’ I said, unimpressed. ‘And just in case, I don’t want my panties to get stained.’
‘It still hurts. I hurt you,’ he said, looking away from me.
‘You were a little rough, but I still came,’ I said, resting my head on his, feeling his soft curls on my cheek. ‘A little pain is worth having you again, especially after so long.’
He softened a little bit. ‘Too long.’
‘You were just over excited,’ I said, kissing the top of his head.
‘It’s been a long time since I went more than a month without sex,’ he said.
‘Ha, it’s a first for me,’ I said, pushing my fingers into his hair, feeling the luscious curls, the smell from his shampoo filtering into my nose. ‘Then again, I went twenty-five years without sex before I met you.’
‘Are you in pain?’ he asked, looking down to my crotch.
I shook my head. ‘No, just stings a little.’
‘I guess round two is off the table,’ he said with a sigh.
‘I’m OK, you know,’ I said, lifting his chin up and looking into his eyes. ‘See? Still alive.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, frowning. ‘I should go clean up, wash the plane ride off of me.’
‘And my blood,’ I said. He seemed upset by it, so I kissed him on the forehead. ‘I’ll order some food while you shower.’
I was about to stand up, but his arms were wrapped around me, holding me tightly. He let his head rest against my chest, which made my heart melt. He was holding me as if he was never going to get to hold me again.
I stroked his cheek, resting my head on his. I wanted to cry again; I was so happy he was home. Sure, I had bled a little, but doesn’t that happen sometimes with rough sex? Something new for us, but it was bound to happen at least once.
I raised his chin up, kissing him lightly. ‘You should shower. I’ll order food.’
He nodded, kissing me again, just as lightly as I had. I got up, his hands caressing me as I did so, stroking down my stomach and thighs. He stood up, turning into the bathroom, the shower sounding a few moments later.
I quickly put the panty liner in a pair of granny panties, slipping them on as well as one of Quinn’s T-shirts, which I took to wearing when I slept. It may have seemed stupid, but it helped me cope... as best as I could. I put on a pair of track pants before I put my hair up in a quick, messy ponytail.
I called in some Chinese, the place knowing our usual and happy to deliver since Quinn was a good tipper. I got a glass of water from the kitchen, about to sit down at the bar, when the buzzer sounded.
‘That was fast,’ I said, stunned that food had arrived already. I walked to the intercom, pressing the TALK button. ‘Yeah?’
‘Delivery for a Robert Quinlan,’ a male voice said.
I pushed the button. ‘What is it?’
‘Flowers,’ the voice replied.
‘Flowers,’ I said to myself. ‘All right, come on up.’
I pushed the button to allow him into the building. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. I was a little cautious, knowing it was always possible in downtown that it was someone trying to burst into your apartment and possibly harm you. I looked through the peep hole, seeing that it was indeed just a flower delivery guy.