Mine (Falling For A Rose Book 7) Read online

  “Take me inside,” she breathed into his mouth. “If you want, I don’t care,” she retracted.

  With purpose, Quentin didn’t fight, turning and taking the few steps before climbing the natural oak porch and entering the pine-oak beach house. Knowing the interior from memory, Quentin kept his focus on sucking in Phoebe’s lips while he walked them to a bedroom. His arms skimmed up her back and untied her bikini top. The thin piece of fabric fell to the side, and Quentin pulled back to look at her. His dark gaze scoured her cocoa brown flesh, still wet from the jacuzzi tub. When his eyes took in her cinnamon brown breast and dark chocolate nipples, his pupils took on another shade of night.

  “You’re wet,” his dark voice boomed. Quentin coached his body not to react too quickly to her beauty but seeing her bare beautiful breasts tore through his libido.

  “Yes,” she confirmed.

  “You were out in the dark waters this late?” he questioned.

  Phoebe smirked, even in the sweltering heat, Quentin was concerned for her.

  “Wet for you,” she said.

  Quentin pulled his gaze from her nipples back to her beautiful face. Her lips withdrew into a devilish smile, and his hands sank into her wet strands. With a fierce grip, he pulled her face to his and kissed her chin, cheek, and the corner of her lips before drawing her head back and biting down on her jaw. A rainstorm of heat blazed through Phoebe, and her nipples cowered into nubs.

  “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into, Phoebe?” Before she could respond, he finished, “Saying things like that to me could get you in a lot of trouble. And I do mean trouble in every…sense…of the word.”

  Phoebe shivered under his sharp predatory bite. As if he claimed her for all others to keep their hands off.

  “It’s the truth,” she practically whispered, her voice trembling with an exciting fear she’d never known.

  Quentin moved with her wrapped around him to a piece of lounge furniture on the other side of the room. Removing his vicious teeth from her chin, Quentin kissed over her skin and untied the strings on the hips of her bikini bottoms. Laying her soft body on the furniture, Quentin removed the thin material, and his gaze drank in her glistening peach.

  “Fuck… me,” he said, falling to his knees to gain a closer look.

  Phoebe swallowed, and her throat tightened as she watched him breathe in her essence. His pushed his face against her moist lips and gently kissed her there. The soft push of his mouth made her shiver with a buzz crawling up her belly to her breasts. When his tongue invaded her slippery sanctuary, Phoebe pulled in a wind-curdling gasp. With an expert tongue, Quentin tousled her clitoris, flipping the wet muscle over her sensitive flesh.

  “Oooooh…” Phoebe moaned as her head fell back and her eyes crossed.

  A drizzling drum trekked from Quentin’s throat, and he pressurized the force of his tongue.

  “Aaaah, Oh my God!” Phoebe sang. She had never felt anything this blissful. Sex couldn’t be better than this. Could it?

  Her body began to quiver, just as a sailing path of torched nerves scuttled up her spine. Quentin covered her pussy entirely with his mouth, suckling her with the mission to quench his thirst. In one elongated slurp, he took a tongue over the folds of her labia, lashing at her stiff, juicy pearl. A cycling buzz from her clit made Phoebe hotter, sending a beating pulse pounded through her sensitive flesh. Before she had a mind to comprehend what was happening, she was coming.

  “Oh God.” Her legs quaked, and she felt out of control as a profound knocking ripped through her core, and a violent wave of crème eased out to meet his thirsty mouth. The piece of furniture rocked as Phoebe’s trembles became reckoning spasms. The momentum caused her body to sail into his mouth harder, and as if he hadn’t dined on anything so deliciously fulfilling in all his life, Quentin lapped and sucked, covering every corner of her vagina with his tongue.

  “Damn it, girl…” he rumbled. “You just couldn’t stay away,” he murmured. “Why’d you go and do this to me?” He licked her some more, sucking in her flesh as if it killed him not to do so.

  Numbly, Phoebe gazed down at his half-lit eyes, her legs still vibrantly shaking.

  “On the contrary,” she purred. “I think it is you who has done it to me.” Phoebe licked her lips. “That was so damn good. My God.” She closed her eyes and opened them as her head spun.

  Quentin smirked. “That was just making love to this pussy, sweetheart. I have yet to eat your ass out.”

  Phoebe’s eyes widened, and something akin to a nostalgic desire crept into her bones. Quentin kissed her mound then moved up her belly to her navel than her breast. With his mouth, he inhaled one knotted nipple, sucking, teasing the areola inside his heated cove. His hands explored her body, gliding up her fermented skin. Each time his fingers sunk into her luscious flesh, her body tinged with another round of sordid heat.

  “Mmmm,” Phoebe moaned, wrapped in the warmth of his body. “Quentin…” she purred, dazed in a cocoon of rapture.

  “Yes, baby,” he said, slurping in her nipples.

  His dick pushed against her center, and Phoebe burned with desire.

  “Take off your shorts,” she said.

  Quentin slipped his dark gaze up at her, lifting high enough for her nipple to pop out of his mouth. His eyes combed over her face as if he hadn’t committed each detail to memory long ago. With ease, he stood and removed his shorts without haste. When his erection sprang free, Phoebe moved back without realizing it.

  Her eyes traveled to his dark orbs, then back down again. “You have not been using that to have sex,” she said, fascinated at the swollen thickness of his length and tipped curve of his head. Quentin stepped forward and kneeled, picking her legs up to toss them over his shoulder.

  “You’re not scared, are you?” his deep voice drummed. Taking his shaft in his hand, Quentin popped the top of her vagina with his distended member.

  Phoebe quivered softly, then lied, “No, but…” she hesitated, and so did he.

  “But what?” he said, easing down on top of her with the head of his penis at her opening.

  “Be careful... please,” she said.

  Something in her voice gave him pause, and Quentin studied her for a long moment. A thought crossed his mind, and he shook it off with a dismissing laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, “I’m tripping, I almost thought…”

  “Thought what?”

  Quentin kissed her lips. “For some reason, I got the crazy idea that you could be a virgin.” He chuckled and pressed into her, but her vagina was sealed shut even with her being superbly wet.

  Phoebe shut her eyes and bit her bottom lip. “Quentin,” she said.

  “Yes, baby.”

  “I am a virgin.”

  Quentin’s movements froze, and a second passed before he withdrew from her completely to sit back on his haunches.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed, her eyes wide with panic.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  Phoebe closed her legs and sat up. “What reason would I have to lie to you? I don’t understand, what’s the problem?”

  Quentin covered his mouth with his hand briefly then dropped his hand as his probing gaze dug into her. “You came here knowing we would possibly have sex, but you’re a virgin.”

  Exasperated, Phoebe nodded and shrugged as annoyance crept in. “Yeah, so, what’s your point?”

  Quentin was quiet again, trying to find his words but incredibly taken aback by her revelation.

  “What is it? You don’t like virgins?” Phoebe folded her arms, seconds from getting out of pocket.

  “What?” he balked. “No, I mean yes, I mean…” he sighed and slipped his arms back around her waist, sinking his face into her chest.

  Phoebe draped her arms over his shoulders and hugged him, embracing his strong back as he breathed into the center of her breasts. Neither of them moved, for long
seconds, they just held one another in a warm blanket of heat. Quentin’s hands trailed up her back then down her spine to her bare buttocks.

  Phoebe didn’t know what to think. To say she was confused was putting it mildly. But she waited for him to say something. Anything that would explain why they weren’t having sex.

  Quentin turned his face up to speak when a heavy knock ricocheted against the screen door.

  “Aye yo, Q!” Jonathon yelled inside. “I hope you don’t have company, man, because I’m coming in.”

  Quentin and Phoebe both cursed at the same time.

  “Where are you, man, we’re all going down to the beach to have a last night celebration before brunch tomorrow.”

  Jonathon’s voice was getting closer, and quickly, Quentin removed himself from Phoebe’s grasp and stepped back into his shorts. Phoebe had never seen a man move that fast. Only lightning could beat his speed. Within seconds Quentin was standing at his bedroom door just in time to stop Jonathon from coming any further.

  “You know,” Quentin said, “it’s rude to just enter a man’s quarters and traipse all through his space without permission.”

  Jonathon cracked a smile. “Then you shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked and opened. I could’ve been anyone coming in to leave you for dead.”

  At the mention of death, Quentin eased out of the room and shut the door behind him, just as Jonathon peeped a pair of bikini bottoms on the floor. Jonathon smirked.

  “Oh, you got company. I should’ve known,” he said. “Who is it, the girl from the hotel bar?”

  “No,” Quentin said, peeking over his shoulder.

  Jonathon shut his jaw. “My bad,” he whispered. “Why don’t you bring her down, and you guys can get back to your thing afterward.”

  “I think you and the fellas can have fun without us,” Quentin retorted.

  “You’re right,” Jonathon said, “we could, but it’s our only night. Besides,” he slapped a hand on Quentin’s shoulder and whispered, “The one with the shortcut bob that was eye-fucking you from the karaoke machine is down there. I know you want to get at her. She’s your type.”

  A thump sounded against the bedroom door, and Quentin knew Phoebe was listening to their conversation.

  “I’ll tell you what, if that will get you the hell out of here, let’s go,” Quentin said.

  “Wait, you’re not going to get ya girl?” Jonathon frowned.

  “Na’ll, she’ll be waiting when I get back.”

  Jonathon chuckled. “Aight, let’s go.”

  “Let me grab a shirt. I’ll be outside in a minute.”

  “Do that,” Jonathon said.

  Jonathon turned to leave; his heavy footsteps neared the front door before the screen bounced off its hinges from his exit. Quentin re-entered the bedroom to find a now clothed Phoebe scowling with her arm crossed.

  Quentin moved closer to her and kept his voice low.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I don’t think you are,” she said.

  Quentin sighed. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Tell him to take a hike.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “I have a feeling if I was the girl at the bar, you wouldn’t be so quick to leave.”

  “Do you have to make this about us?”

  “It is, isn’t it? Be honest with me, Quentin. If I were some random chick,” she paused. “A random virgin chick,” she added, “would you be so quick to leave?”

  Quentin gritted his teeth. “You don’t understand.”

  “That’s one thing you’ve got right,” she said, pushing past him to leave.

  Quentin caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving. It seems there’s a bonfire on the beach that everyone’s in a hurry to get to.”

  She tried to shake him off, but he tightened his grip.

  “If you walk out that door, you’ll run straight into your brother,” he said.

  Phoebe shrugged. “I’m not the one scared of him,” she insisted.

  Quentin narrowed his eyes and pulled her back, firmly, against his chest.

  “This has nothing to do with me being scared of anyone, and you know it.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “You better leave, or I will.” Phoebe folded her arms.

  Quentin wavered, and she lifted a brow with her mouth tight and her attitude on ten.

  “As you wish,” he said, walking around her to leave the room.

  “No, as you wish,” she mumbled under breath. It would be the last time she ever gave Quentin Davidson the time of day.

  Chapter Three

  A celebratory dance was underway when Jonathon and Quentin made it to the other end of the beach. With a few locals and the staff from the bar, they clapped hands and circled Christopher and Norma in a dance of congratulations. Quentin went straight for the open cooler that sat tight in a chunk of sand. It was filled with ice and Corona stretched through the dense cubes.

  Seeing them walk up, Jacob and Jordan offered up a Que-dog whistle.

  “The dogs are here!” They shouted.

  Quentin and Jonathon smirked and began to step like they did whenever someone mentioned their Omega Psi Phi fraternity. Their moves brought the attention of the locals and a few curious eyes from women lingering around. The men became louder as they shouted and moved, stomping and dipping down to show off their unique talents.

  “Aww shit, don’t hurt ‘em now,” Octavia, Jonathon’s wife, shouted.

  With their faces scrunched in a tight mask, Jonathon and Quentin pulled their hands to the sides of their face with their arms open in their fraternity’s signature pose.

  “Aye!” Quentin shouted.

  “Aye!” Jonathon followed.

  Jacob moved from his seating position and stood in line with his brothers as they stomped, kicking up sand and barking out shouts. No one noticed Phoebe coming from the same direction that Jonathon and Quentin had come. They were so engrossed watching the men step that she slinked passed them and came around to find a seat next to her sister Eden.

  Leaning over to her, Eden whispered, “Nice try, but I’m your twin, and I see everything.”

  Phoebe shrugged. “I wouldn’t have cared if everyone else saw me, too.”

  Eden’s brows bunched as she frowned at Phoebe. “Well, that’s a first.”

  “How?” Phoebe said, “I’m tired of feeling like I’m sneaking around my family like I’m a child. I’m not you know. I’m a fully grown, kick-ass attorney, and I don’t need anyone in my damn business.”

  “Uh, oh,” Jasmine, Phoebe’s triplet sister said, leaning. “What happened this time?”

  Phoebe huffed and turned to peer at Quentin. In his thin gray T-shirt, his muscles flexed and his biceps bulged as he stepped next to her brother. Sharply, she turned her eyes away and scrambled to grab a cold Corona.

  The men finished their step with a loud howl that the rest of the men imitated. Excitement and laughter bubbled around them, but Phoebe’s attitude went sour by the second. She twisted the top of the beer and took a swig, plopping back down next to her sisters.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Jordan said. “There’s a minor with an alcoholic beverage, somebody call 911,” he joked, and everyone laughed but Phoebe and Quentin.

  Phoebe rose to her feet and poured beer all over Jordan.

  “Hey, girl, what the hell?” he shouted.

  “For your information Jordan, I am not a minor, I am a grown ass woman!” she snapped. “I have a higher success rate at your law firm than any of your junior partners period! I don’t need anyone telling me what to do, looking over my damn shoulder, or telling me who to screw! Because I will do what the hell I please, and I will screw whomever the hell I want!” She tossed the bottle, and everyone in Jordan’s angle ducked.

  “Phoebe!” Jordan yelled.

  “Go to hell!” she said, marching off down the beach in the opposite direction.

  They all stared after her with eyes wide and mouths hanging open. Jo
rdan stood to his feet and went after her, and so did Quentin.

  “Can somebody tell me what’s going on?” Christopher said.

  Stalking down the beach, Phoebe’s madness was on high, even as the soft winds turned cool, making her fold her arms and shiver.

  “Phoebe!” Jordan yelled as he and Quentin jogged to catch up with her.

  “Leave me alone, Jordan.”

  Jordan reached out to stop her angry escape. She whipped around with a glare and an icy stare that cut through him.

  “I’m sorry!” Jordan said. “I was just playing with you; I didn’t think you were going to get all Zena warrior princess on me.”

  Phoebe waved him off and turned back around, purposefully ignoring Quentin’s probing gaze.

  “Phoebe!” Jordan called out, reaching for her again.

  “Leave me alone! I didn’t come all the way down here for you to follow me. I need to be by myself.” Phoebe continued to trek down the beach.

  “There’s no one down the beach this way,” Quentin said to Jordan.

  “We’ll have to watch her from here. She wants to be left alone.”

  They both stood there watching Phoebe stroll down the beach.

  “What do you think is wrong with her?” Jordan asked.

  Quentin let out a breath and pulled a hand over his face.

  “From that outburst, I would say she’s tired of being treated like a child.”

  Jordan frowned. “I was just messing with her, man. I do that all the time; she’s never lashed out like this.”

  “Maybe she’s tired of it. You know she’s been saying for years we need to mind our business.”

  “That’s only when it involves some dude she likes,” Jordan said. Quentin didn’t respond, and Jordan pulled his eyes away from Phoebe’s disappearing form to Quentin’s emotionless face. “She’s not seeing anybody, is she?” Jordan asked.

  “Nah, not that I know of,” Quentin responded.

  Jordan cast his eyes back down the beach. “She’s gotta be seeing someone. I’ll find out,” he promised.