Subfrenzy (the Subfrenzied Series) (5 page)

He
hesitated before crossing the street. “Do you want to come in with me? I feel strange about having you wait here.”

“
That's okay. I'll wait in my car, if that makes you feel better.”

“
It does. I'll be right back.”

“
Hey, Lane,” I answered her 'H'lo.' “Do you need the car tonight?”

She
groaned loudly. “I'm still two thousand words short for my Philosophy paper. No. I won't need it for the next two days.”

“
I won't be gone that long.”

“
You sound nervous. And happy.” I heard her smile. “Did you meet someone?”

“
Yes, I did meet someone. Again.”

“
What?”

“
The same guy who gave me his number a couple days ago. He'll be back in a minute. We just met up again.”

“
Did you meet him at
Rack's
?”

“
No. If he knows I was there, he hasn't said anything about it. I'll try and help you with the paper when I get back. Sorry, I don't have long to talk.”

“
Whenever. Check in with me, okay?” 

“
Of course. Call me if you need anything.”

“
Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Be safe.”

Then
it was just me and my nerves. I turned the car on for the radio and heat. It took some effort, but I kept myself from staring at the bar door in my side mirror. What was wrong with me, letting myself be so vulnerable in public?
Sub frenzy
, I heard the word echo in my head. The inner shields were back, but far too late.

“
Hello again.”

“
Welcome back,” I replied, rolling my window all the way down.

“
Want to follow me to my place? There's a private lot. Your car won't be on the street.”

“
Right. Er, okay then. Lead the way.”

It
only took ten minutes, parking included. His “apartment” was a large townhouse, separate from the actual apartment building. There were four other townhouses nearby, two in light blue, three in white, Quinn's included. We drove past the clubhouse and exercise room, their Olympic sized pool. Corporate-style living. He parked next to the blue sports car I remembered.               Three concrete steps ended at his front door. It opened to a wide hallway.
A sturdy, narrow wooden table held mail and opened FedEx envelopes. His kitchen was to the right, done in black and white, with wide, long counters and gleaming metal appliances. 

“
Make yourself comfortable,” he said, putting his laptop bag down.

“
Thank you. …where's your bathroom?” I asked, making sure my coat stayed closed.              

“
Down the hall to your right. The second door.”

“
Thanks very much. I'll be right back.”

His
bathroom had a jacuzzi. I braced my hands on the sink when I felt how fast my pulse was racing. Fluffy towels were neatly folded on a towel rack instead of thrown over the shower to dry. Everything seemed so organized and clean, elegant in a masculine way. His sink, alone, marble and mahogany...
How was I supposed to take my jacket off?!

I
texted Lane the address, as she always did when she went home with someone.

'Remember
what I wore for my “interview?” This guy's in serious evening attire. Emily Post doesn't have a solution to this problem. Do you?'

'Men
like corsets, sexy outfits. Why wouldn't he? You've never cared before.'

Because
he was wearing... Because his apartment- house- was... When I couldn't find a reason, calm found me.
'You're right.
' I breathed a little easier and felt more like myself.
'I think I'm more worried that he's going to say something about Rack's.'

'What
if he does?'

'I feel really, really uncomfortable?'

'Say you were going to go, but you didn't. That should end the conversation if you don't want to have it with him.'
Then,
'Trust your intuition. I've solved your problem, btw: Ask him for a shirt.'

'Thanks.
Yeah, I might do that.'

“Hi there,” he said, getting up from the couch to meet me. “Can I take your coat for you?”

“
I-- Yes? Thank you.” I was all-too aware of how lithely he moved and how powerfully professional he looked. Mentally bracing, I unbuttoned my jacket.

His eyes visibly darkened as he looked at me. “Nice outfit.”

“I had a--” I gestured vaguely again. “Laundry day.”             

“
You look good,” he said lightly.

“
So do you.”

“
No wonder you hesitated.” His fingers touched mine when I handed him my coat. “You should have said something. I'll turn the heat up. Don't freeze in the meantime.”

He
brought back a light blanket from one of his smaller sofa chairs. I was mentally relieved, on the verge of taking Lanie's advice. “Thank you so much.”

“
I'm, uh-- I'm going to change. I'll be right back.”

“
Do you smoke in here?”

“
Absolutely,” he replied.

Relaxing,
physically and mentally, I looked around his living room. Two smaller chairs were spaced near the glass coffee table. I lit a cigarette to wait for him. When I dropped my lighter, I saw another set of smaller windows in the dark part of the room. They led me to notice a sliding glass door that opened to his balcony. A dark blue towel hung over the longest railing, next to a lounge chair I hadn't seen in the shadows. Shadows on the floor helped me see a water dish and a pet food bowl in his kitchen. Some of the wariness I felt immediately went away.

It
wasn't long until he returned. I caught glimpses of firm muscles in his chest, outlined by the light blue t-shirt he wore. Lust raged when I saw the taut muscles in his long arms.              

“
I've got some whiskey, maybe rum, if you'd prefer that instead? Or beer?” he asked, going into the kitchen.

“
Do you have soda? Beer's fine if you don't.”

“
I've got orange soda, root beer-”

“
Orange would be great, thank you.”

Quinn
put the drinks on the table and sat down, leaning against the couch's right corner. He found a game controller in it's armrest. “Is there anything on
Netflix
you've been watching?”

“
Lot's of stuff,” I said. “You've got good shows and movies queued.”

“
I've heard a lot of good things about '
Weeds.
'” 

“
It's a great series,” I agreed.

He
lit a cigarette and watched me put mine out. “You work for a law firm, right?”

“
As a personal assistant, yes.” The way he asked put me on edge. “You're a financial adviser?”

“
... yes. Will it offend you if I smoke?”

I
glanced over at the screen and smiled slowly. “Smoke pot?”

“
I had a feeling.” He grinned. “I usually only smoke on the weekends. Special occasion, because it's only Thursday?”

“
I do that, too. I planned to catch up for the week, tomorrow.”

“
You're more than welcome to join.”

“
Yes please. Thanks for offering.”             

“
I've got a blunt rolled somewhere...” When he smiled at me, some of the distanced-business edge was gone. “You're incredibly polite.”

And it wouldn't go away.
“Thank you.”

“
It's refreshing.” When he smiled, some of the distance between us went away. I sat cross-legged and kept the blanket tucked in around me. He handed me the blunt with a green lighter.

“
Is pot your only drug?”

“
Yes, only weed. You?”

“
Same.” With confirmation, I didn't hesitate to light it.

“
I like you,” he grinned suddenly. “You're really laid-back.”

“
Thanks,” I blew smoke over my shoulder. “Er, yeah, I like you, too.”

“
Can you see the screen from all the way over there?”

It
took me a second to understand, but I moved closer and rested my shoulder against his. He put his arm on the back of the couch, behind my neck. I wasn't normally able to stay high for more than a few minutes around people I'd never smoked with before. Yet the hazy, pleasurable cloud was spreading through my head, tingling, bringing heightened awareness. I liked the sensitivity that had settled over my skin, the anticipation that made me realize how much I wanted to end up in bed with him.  

“
I feel really, really good,” he leaned his head back. “I haven't felt this good in a while.”

“
Agreed.”

“
Where are you from?” he asked suddenly.

“
I've always lived in Jersey. Why?”

“
I'm just curious. I thought New York, first.”

Because I was nervous, tongue-tied and close to stammering.
“Are you from New York?”

“
The Bronx, Kingsbridge, then Manhattan for a few years.”

During
the second episode, he rested his hand on my knee and didn't move it. New tension in the room didn't go away. It grew stronger, impossible for me to ignore. By the time I noticed I'd been absently stroking his leg, it was too late to stop.

“
Sorry if that's been bothering you?”

'It
hasn't been.” He paused, glancing over at me. “How high are you?”

“
It's-- I don't know where the blunt went. I think you had it last?”

“
How are you feeling? We smoked a lot.”

“
I'm still me,” I replied, understanding what he meant.

His
eyes were bright with amusement when I glanced up at him. When I put my hand back on his thigh, missing by a few inches, I froze and stared at the TV screen.

He
grabbed my wrist, but there wasn't any pressure as his fingers wrapped around my arm.

“
I didn't mean to do that,” I was only able to whisper.

“
I noticed.”

He
felt a little more distant, releasing his hold on my wrist. A flash of disappointment-- But then pressure on my shoulder and quickly turned me toward him. I found myself leaning against his chest. We looked at one another and I felt myself smile, excited by his careful roughness. I gasped, unable to stop myself from laughing in pleasure when he had me underneath him.

“
Too much?” His cock was already hard, digging into my stomach. Impressive, on both counts. I pressed my knees against his sides and pushed my hips into his.

“
Definitely not.” I twitched when his hand brushed over the side of my neck. His fingers were long, wide, curling through my hair. The tension in his arm-- “Wait!” I said, hating that I sounded hoarse and panicked.

“
Change your mind?” He let his hand drop away from the back of my head. I could breathe again.

The
nervous part of me watched for irritation or signs of anger that I'd stopped him. There was none, just controlled curiosity. Lust was sharp, almost painful as it sliced through me.
If you pull my head back, I'll lose control.
I went with the second thing that came to mind.

“
For safety, health reasons, I just want to ask if-?” I stopped short, unable to find a way around being very, very blunt.

“
Clean bill of health? Yes,” he answered confidently. “What about you?”

“
Yes. Me too.”

“
I feel like I'm crowding you. Do you want me to-”

I
drew in a ragged breath and bit my lower lip. Quinn didn't look concerned anymore. He had leaned back, which pressed his lower body completely against me. But then he purposefully moved his hips and the burning pleasure lasted so much longer-! I gasped when his cock slid perfectly between my legs. Shivers rolled down between my shoulders, waking nerves that ached for roughness. I felt his belt buckle warm against my skin. My moan sounded loud in the quiet, he had definitely heard it. I looked down at my hands, my wrists crossed over the upper part of his chest.

Without
thinking, I pushed at his shoulders and surprised him into sitting back. I straddled his waist as I fought the frustrated aggression. The zipper to my corset was easy to lower. It went over the back of his couch. My shoes hit the floor one by one. Confidence returned when I heard him groan. I brought my knees in closer and rocked my hips over his in small, slow circles.