It still was odd coming to this monstrosity of a house to see his pal Quinn. Hell, Quinn’s shoebox apartment could fit into the bedroom he currently lay in, twice over with a bit of space left over. Fucking place was massive!
Nodding to the butler—a butler for fucks sake!—Jordan shrugged out of his jacket and passed it over. He knew the routine well now. He’d been visiting every fourth day, in the hospital and then when Quinn’s birth parents had moved him to their home for private nursing care.
Quinn’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. McKaughan or George and Janelle as they’d insisted he call them, were an interesting pair. They’d explained why they’d distanced themselves from Quinn and, in light of what had happened, it wasn’t such a stretch to figure out that they’d been right to be wary. Especially given the fact that George was a Supreme Court judge, a lot of people would do shit to get back at him. And Janelle was an heiress to a massive fortune from her grandfather who’d been a shipping magnate back in the day.
Yeah, they both had enemies and people in the world willing to go to any lengths to get what they wanted from the couple. Sick, twisted and often desperate people. Quinn would have been the perfect pawn as a child. Still would be as an adult given what Janelle had revealed about the struggles to have him in the first place.
Passing off his gloves and scarf, Jordan bent to shuck off his boots. Straightening he went to the mirror and straightened his blonde, slightly wavy hair off his face. Dark gray eyes stared back at him from his Slavic face. His mother all the way, he thought with fondness for the petite Scandinavian woman that had given him life and who could still terrorize him into a sweating ball of fear with a look.
Ah, the power of mothers. Chuckling, he straightened his sweater so it wasn’t strangling his tanned throat and then headed up the stairs quickly, taking two and three at a time. With his six-foot-four height he had long legs, easily eating up the stairs and then the hall to his friend’s room.
Knocking, more out of habit than anything else, he slipped inside. Quinn was alone, one of the rare times, because the McKaughans knew that Jordan was coming by to chat with him. Routine was big in Quinn’s life right now.
Stopping at the bedside he stared down at his friend. He had black hair that was a little longer than Quinn preferred which showed the curl he despised, from his mother, Jordan now knew. His face was pale from lack of sunlight, very different from the tanned goof who loved to hit the waves whenever he could. His face was leaner too, showing off the strong, aristocratic bone structure he got from his father, George. A slight cleft in the chin, the strong yet slightly bent nose from a bar fight at age eighteen gone a bit wrong.
The large king-sized bed he lay in dwarfed his six-foot-three frame that normally was stacked in a svelte sort of way, six pack, toned, heavy definition and yet riding that very careful edge of being too bulky for fashion runways. Now he was thin, wasting away before everyone’s eyes.
Pulling up the chair Jordan sat down to talk to his friend. Catching him up on the latest news about this friend or that, he also let Quinn know that everyone at the agency was preparing for the spring fashion show in a flurry, as usual, for Paris. And of course, they missed him being there to pull pranks.
“I’ve been doing my best to keep up the tradition, buddy. But it’s just not the same without you there grinning at the pranked individual with your big blue eyes and dimples that get you out of serious shit every time. They know I’m doing my best and play along, but really, it sucks ass.”
Jordan wasn’t a model, though the agency had tried to get him up on the runway more than once. No, he was better as a coordinator, handling all the little details from flights to shipments to appointments to everything else that the agency needed done yesterday. He had the memory for such things and the quick mind. He’d go insane having to strut around the runway and he knew it, so he resisted the pleas to do it each and every time.
“Just so you know, Jean-Paul is on my case again to hit the runway,” Jordan said. “He says that he needs me out there since you are unable to do your traditional opener for the season. He fears that without a, and I quote here, sexy man to woo the ladies into opening their purses and other things, that he’ll have a horrid season. I told him to stick it where the sun didn’t shine, again. To which, yeah, you know the reply, ‘But dear boy, I might enjoy that.’” Jordan laughed softly, almost hearing Quinn’s echoing laugh in his head. But he knew the truth. He might never hear his best friend’s laugh again.
Shit, now he was getting maudlin. That wouldn’t do. Happier talk, definitely much happier talk. So he told Quinn about the fitting “incident” with one of the female models, remembered laughter in his voice the entire time.
“If you’re sure I’m all for going skin to skin, Susan.”
“I’m very sure,” Susan whispered honestly and wrapped her legs and arms around him. “Because otherwise you would have to go to the corner store and that would not be good.” She leaned in and brushed her nose to his. “I need you. I’m desperate,” she admitted honestly before she kissed him, the kiss showing just exactly how much she wanted and needed him.
He let out a low groan as he squeezed her ass and ground his jean-covered cock on her jean-covered pussy. “Bedroom,” he muttered against her lips. Sucking on her lower lip he nipped and drew his head back a little. “A bed, Susan, now,” he said. “Otherwise I’m going to throw you on the floor and to hell with the consequences to your delightfully rounded ass.”
“Down the hall, first door on the left,” she said and leaned down, her lips and teeth brushing over his shoulder. “And don’t be slow and gentle. I passed that a great long time ago.” She so should have jumped him far sooner. “I need you too much for that. Next time can be slow and gentle, this first time needs to be explosive, please,” she whimpered, opening the door for him when they got to the bedroom.
He tossed her on the bed and then wrenched off one runner before tugging off the other. Dropping the shoe he went to work on his jeans and, bending quickly, he straightened up, kicked them aside and was completely, gloriously naked. Jordan came toward her and grabbed her ankles. He gave a tug to pull her closer to him and went to work on her jean button and zipper.
Susan looked at Jordan and grinned. “Wow,” was all that she could say. He had a glorious body, he was tanned all over, literally, and he had muscles but wasn’t muscle bound so much that he looked corny. Without him asking she tugged her shirt off and then unsnapped her bra, lifting her ass for him when he tugged at her jeans and panties in one pull. Laying there naked on the bed she looked up at him and felt embarrassed, embarrassed because she wasn’t anywhere near as beautiful as Jordan was.
“God,” he breathed out staring down at her. “You are gorgeous,” he said softly. Climbing onto the bed he stroked a hand up her side gently, his touch very light and barely there. Leaning in he brushed kisses over her belly and then slowly up to her breasts. With a look to her, meeting her guess, he flicked his tongue over her nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
Susan arched up off of the bed. The touch of his tongue to her nipple was like electricity to her pussy. It was a current that ran zig zag all along her being. Her hands moved to his hair and held his head close to her chest. “Jordan,” she begged and rubbed her leg up and down his thigh. “Now.” She was so wet, she was so desperate. She needed and wanted to have him inside of her now.
Sliding his hand over her belly he slipped a finger through her folds, over her clit and then down to her opening. The soft growl he let out vibrated through her breast. “So wet,” he said in a rough voice as he moved to suck her other nipple.
“I’ve been waiting for you for far too long,” she whispered and pushed up against his fingers. She was desperate. She was needy. “Fuck me, Jordan Connor,” she begged and bracing a foot on the bed she pushed up against his fingers. “I want.” That was an understatement.
Laughing softly he used his knees to push her legs further apart. Settling down he rubbed his cock through her wetness and then began to push into her. “Fuck,” he groaned softly. “You are so damned hot and wet.”
Her legs wrapped around his hips automatically. Her hands once more moved to his shoulders and she grinned up at him. “And gods you are so damn hard. I love it,” she whispered. “I need you,” she said with a grin. “You feel so good.” He was stretching her ar-too-little-used channel to its capacity. “Perfect.” And it really did feel just like that, perfect.
Easing over her onto his elbows Jordan slid his hands under her shoulders and wrapped his fingers over them to hold on. Brushing a kiss to her lips he pushed all the way in. After giving her another kiss he began to thrust, his cock sliding in and out slowly at first and gaining speed.
Both of her legs were around his hips, she was pulling him closer and harder. She demanded more and more with each thrust of his cock into her welcoming pussy. She didn’t let her eyes close, she watched him. Watched every expression that crossed his face as they came together and loved it. She wanted more. “So close.” God they had just begun and she was so close. “I want to come and then we need to do this again, slower.”
“Agreed,” he groaned. Biting her lip he thrust faster, pounding into her pussy over and over. He tugged at her lower lip and then kissed her as he ground his hips to hers, his cock sliding over her clit as he thrust at a slightly different angle.
Susan’s entire body was moving with Jordan’s thrusts.