Page 21 of Love Potion No. 69
I go on to my tiptoes, a silent invitation. “Please, Quinton,” I beg. Because never have I needed anything more. Then I’m yelling, a guttural moan of sheer pleasure as he thrusts into me.
“So good, baby,” he says, pulling out and pushing in again, getting deeper. “So fucking tight for me—so fucking perfect. You’re mine,” he grunts against my swiveling hips. “Fuck, Clementine. Mine.”
I push my hips back, needing every delicious inch he’s giving me and meeting him with every movement. “Yours,” I say. He fucks me like we have all the time in the world, decadently, slowly, sliding in and out of me with a luxuriousness that I have never known. Then he reaches around to my clit and I’m on the precipice again.
“You gonna let me come inside you?” he asks, lifting me up and sweeping my hair to the side before leaning me back against his chest. Then he presses a hand against my breast and captures a nipple between his fingers, sending a ripple of pleasure straight to my pussy.
“Anything you want, Quinton,” I say, nearly delirious with pleasure.
“Fall apart for me,” he urges. “I’ve got you. Let go.”
He thrusts again, harder than before, nearly lifting me entirely off the stool. I shout, and I swear lightning surges through me, the same jolt from our initial touch in the greenhouse but magnified, reaching from my head to my fingertips and toes before curling back and burying itself deep inside me.
I can’t speak, can only gasp as he murmurs, “I know. Me, too,” and then we’re both toppling into our orgasms in a bliss so complete it leaves me speechless.
Spent, his lips find my neck again as he holds me tight, our arms threaded between each other around my waist. For a long moment, all we do is breathe.
Finally, I turn around in his embrace. His eyes are gentle and sweet in the dim light, full of a world I can’t wait to explore. “Stay here,” I say. “With me.”
He grins. “Of course.”
My heart soars. “Really?”
He laughs softly. “It’s going to require some logistics, but yeah, Sprite, I’m staying.”
I pull his mouth to mine and lose myself in him all over again.
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
“There they are, the perfume prince of Canada and his beautiful bride to be!”
I scowl at Magnolia as I throw my bag into the back seat of her car. “You’re hilarious.”
She laughs. “I mean, it’s true.”
I blow a raspberry at her and scramble into the back as she says, “Get in before I leave you two here to find your own way home.”
My butt hits the back seat and I swat at her. “What does it look like we’re doing?”
“I can’t believe I’m marrying into this,” Quinton mutters as he accordions himself into the tiny Fiat.
I swat at him, too, and he barely closes the door before Magnolia punches the gas, making the wheels chirp and sending the dream catcher hanging from her rear-view mirror swinging. “Good lord, Mags, what’s the rush?”
“I have plans,” she says haughtily, “and this hour-long drive is really putting me in a pinch.”
I look closer at her. “It’s Thursday afternoon and school’s out. You never have plans. Wait. Are you…are you wearingmake-up?”
“Shut up,” she says, then plops an oversize pair of sunglasses off her head and onto her nose.
I hum, trying to figure her out. “It’s a guy,” I pronounce.
The Fiat swerves, and Quinton grips the door so tightly his knuckles lighten. “Sweetie, could you maybe not tease your sister when we’re in this death trap?” he asks, his voice pitching up.
“Agreed,” Magnolia sniffs.
“Fine, but I’m getting the story out of you later,” I say, crossing my arms.