"A spanking's a little fun?"
"You didn't think so?" He flashed his teeth at her.
She laughed, cute and surprised. "Okay. It was a little fun." The late August light was thick and yellow, wrapping around them like gauzy scarves. Quinn was incredibly beautiful in it, golden and glossy as a magazine ad-- but better. Her front tooth was the littlest bit crooked. Her left dimple was a centimeter deeper than her right. And her knees were bouncing up and down with nervous energy. Nate wondered if her pussy was wet. What the state of her had been she'd climbed up off his lap. It had taken all his resolve not to see for himself. But he didn't want to rush things. Good games took time.
The party was like every party they went to: friendly and beer-soaked and full of laughter. Classes had just started a week ago, and the partiers were determined to have twice as much fun to compensate for this loss. There were kegs and bags of doritos and glow sticks; it was still early enough that people were sitting in semicircles, eating M&Ms and laughing at something playing on the TV at the front of the room. A few people were dancing on the patio. Smoke swirled, lazy and fleecily herbaceous, over the lot of them.
Quinn was fun at parties. People were swept toward her as if on a tide, and soon she was eating a handful of red M&Ms and lounging languidly on the arm of the sofa and looking, for all the world, like a girl who had NOT gotten a spanking forty-five minutes ago.
Nate liked to watch her. The way she moved was graceful and sexy. Her hair tumbled down her back in a waterfall bright as light on water. Her full breasts strained at her baby tee, peaked and delightfully round. She walked on her tiptoes, even given the little kitten heels she wore. She was lovely.
Nate was fun at parties too. He rolled the best joints. He had the best laugh. He was charismatic: confident and competitive and funny. Everyone liked him. Quinn liked him, too. He let her roam and mingle, watching her flit, fairylike, around the room. And then every so often he brought her a drink, a joke, a compliment, an introduction to someone he thought she'd like. She glowed under the attention. Under his hand, strong and gentle around the back of her neck, his thumb and fingertips brushing her throat.
By ten they were dancing, fizzy and sweat-slicked, swirling under the overhead light like moths. They'd been crossing paths, drawing closer and closer, that magnetic pull running its fingers over the both of them. Nate could practically feel her, so aware of her presence her outline seemed to be glowing orange in his peripheries.
The next time Quinn spun close to him, he grabbed her waist and spun her in close to him, chest to chest. He could feel her heart thudding. He could smell peppermint like ice on her breath, the sweet raspberry of her lip gloss. He leaned down and kissed her, caught her lush bottom lip between his and tugged, then let it go to press the softest, lightest kiss he'd ever breathed to her top lip. His hard cock thudded against her waist. And then he spun her away from him, back into the dance.
A few songs later, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, grinding into her, his breath a cool exhale against her neck. She arched into him. Her hands reached back to find the sides of his thighs, drawing him closer. They moved well together. They looked good together. He breathed her in, tugged at her hipbone. And spun her away.
And on and on they played, until they were both aching and breathing hard. Then Nate found Quinn's hand and pulled her into the tiny bathroom off the living room, closing the door behind them. He wrapped his hands around her little waist and lifted her up onto the counter, catching a glimpse of lavender satin between her thighs before she pressed her knees together. She smelled so good, all peaches and cream. He wanted to devour her. He gripped her thighs and dragged his hands down to her knees, then to her ankles, jerking them apart to hitch her legs around his waist.
She was so ready, those cute tits heaving, her legs so open for him, her mouth so red. He bent down and kissed those soft lips, his hand sliding up to grip the back of her slender neck. She sighed into his mouth. He drank her up.
"I'm not going to fuck you," he whispered against her ear.
She almost whimpered. "You're not?" Her baby blue eyes gazed up at him like she'd never looked at anyone else.
He shook his head slowly, his teeth still indenting her lip. Their noses brushed. He took her little hand and slid it to his belt, letting her feel the supple coolness of the leather. Her wrist brushed against the hard line of his cock. He breathed in sharply through his nose, tipping his head back. His throat was muscled. Quinn wanted to lick it.
Someone in Cole Mackenzie's house had taste, because the miniscule powder room was lit with a vintage, stained glass lamp: the result was charming. Nate took a second to admire that light, so warm it was almost syrupy, as Quinn leaned back from him, resting her head against the mirror, stretching her body long and lean in front of him. Nate brushed his fingers over her sensitive hipbones, dipping beneath the denim waistband of her skirt. She hissed softly. His palms slid up over her flat, tight stomach. His green eyes were bright and earnest beneath their lust. "Let me see you." He pushed the soft hem of Quinn's shirt up and up, feeling the swells of her tits as he kept his eyes locked on hers. She settled back, arching her back to show off for him. He let her wait. And then he looked.
And she was beautiful. Fuck, she was beatiful. Her skin was flawless, as if she'd been polished. Her tits were so round and lifted they almost looked fake. She was his teenage wet dream. Hell. She was his current wet dream. He bent to suck one of her little candy-pink nipples, tasting the delicate softness of her skin. She moaned, sinking into her touch like she was melting. He could practically taste her desire on her skin. His tongue curled around the stiffened little bud while he softly pinched and pulled the other nipple, making her whine.
"I know you want me to fuck you," he teased, teeth poised at her breast.
She nodded helplessly, embarrassed as a schoolgirl.
"Tell me."
"I want you to fuck me," she whispered.
He nipped at her gently. "Ask me."
"What?"
"Ask me to fuck you."
"Will you... fuck me?" Quinn blinked, half-dazed. He gaze a slow, leisurely lick along her areola. She whimpered. "Please?"
He laughed, so smug, so goddamn pleased. "You're so fun. I already told you I won't. Not tonight." He slid down to his knees, drawing her thighs apart. Her lilac panties were soaked, her thighs slick and creamy. He pressed his nose against the sopping cloth, breathing in the sweet, heady smell of her need for him. She shuddered as his tongue traced the same line down her core.
Nate held her legs firmly as he pulled the silk away from her cunt with his teeth. His mouth watered at the taste of her, like dark cherry wine and sweet cream. Her pussy was beautiful, swollen and slutty, her skin bare and smooth as the marble under her thighs. He lapped her up.
His cock throbbed as he lightly sucked her trembling clit, making its case so aggressively he almost decided to say fuck it, and take her then and there. But instead he let his tongue tell her how much he enjoyed her, keeping it relaxed and warm and loving as it probed and licked and teased her. He nipped softly at her thighs as he sank his thick middle finger into her cunt, wishing he could bury his teeth in her. (But. Slowly. Slowly. Good games take time.)
Quinn's cunt was begging for him. Her warmth and her wetness and her tightness yearned for his cock. Demanded it. Still, he waited. He turned his face up to hers as he twisted his finger inside her and curled it toward him. And just like he'd known she would, she dissolved. She cried out as she came, a warm gush of wetness soaking Nate's forearm, baptizing the black and white marble floor. Nate grinned as she shuddered and shook, then rose to his feet and, pocketing the lavender slip of her panties, kissed her on the cheek. "See you out there."
Quinn stayed in the bathroom for another ten minutes, clinging to the warm tile counter. She could hardly breathe. She could tell she smelled like sex, looked like it, even; no matter how much she smoothed her hair, she still looked just-fucked. And she hadn't even been fucked. Not really. Not properly. She huffed.
When she finally reentered the party, Nate was convened with Tyler, Luke, and Mason on one of the sofas. They smiled up at herd innocently, welcoming her. Somehow she ended up sandwiched between Luke and Nate. Nate swirled a fingertip over her knee as she sat down; when she dared to look at him, his grin was hungry and feral. She wondered how much of the color on his cheeks was because of her. If he still tasted like her pussy.
At the end of the night, Quinn rode home with Nate and was delivered promptly to her sweet little sky blue bed. As Nate closed the door after her, he sighed. He cock was still hard. But he knew what he was doing. These things took time.
