Black On Black (Quentin Black Mystery #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

stroking and caressing and fighting a near violence that slammed out at me every few seconds as I felt him going over it again in his mind. Both of us were still panting and I felt him fighting for words. His desire kept hitting me in waves, making it impossible to think.
    “Gods...   Miri. I need to talk to you. I know I do. But I can’t tonight...   I can’t...”
    “Why not?”
    Again, I felt him struggling for words.
    I felt him thinking about asking me for sex, meaning intercourse––about us fucking, him extended, like he’d been imagining while I gave him head. The thought wiped out his rationality briefly. I felt that harder pulse of desire intensify right before he groaned, gripping me tighter in his hands, holding my cheek against his bare abdomen. I’d somehow managed to push his shirt most of the way up his chest but I didn’t remember doing that either.
    I felt him consider returning the favor then...   meaning going down on me. It didn’t take him long to shove that aside too.
    In his mind, that definitely wasn’t a good idea.
    You just want a fucking excuse...   I heard him think.
    I felt the conflict on him worsen, and still he didn’t speak.
    I felt him restraining himself from speaking, forcing himself to remain silent as he lay there, staring up at his ceiling.
    “Please...” I said finally, unable to take it anymore. “Please. I want to. I want to, Quentin...   if you’re worried about me, then don’t be. Please...”
    He let out another low groan.
    I realized part of it was that I’d called him by his first name.
    Before I could think about that, I could already feel him pulling it back.
    “No,” he said, breathless. “No...   we can’t...   we can’t...   Miri, we can’t...”
    Confusion slid through me.
    He didn’t feel like he was done.
    He also didn’t feel angry at me.
    “I’m not angry, Miri...   gaos, .. ” He forced himself silent, then shook his head where it rested on the pillow. He let out another low gasp, pressing against me. “Miri...   I don’t know how to tell you how incredibly fucking not angry I am...   please believe me. Please. Don’t worry about that...   gods. That’s not why I’m saying no.”
    Relief hit me at his words.
    I believed him.
    Even so, I was puzzled. He didn’t feel finished––he didn’t feel remotely finished. Truthfully, he didn’t feel anything like men normally did after they’d just had an orgasm. None of that post-coital contentment emanated from him. There was none of that brief fatigue after coming down, no indication that it had calmed him or satisfied that craving on any level.
    Instead, he felt frustrated. He felt like someone I’d been teasing for the last twenty or thirty minutes...   not like someone I’d just helped get off.
    I felt him hear part of that, too.
    I felt him react to my thoughts, but I couldn’t tell how, since he was shielding me from his mind again. I felt his desire worsen briefly though, even as he forced himself silent again, maybe before he would have explained it to me.
    Then something else struck me.
    Solonik had gotten more turned on after sex too.
    Especially the first few times.
    At my thought of Solonik, Black was pushing on me gently, pushing at my shoulders, disentangling his body from mine. He pulled up the shorts I’d mostly taken off him, knotting the ties around his hips while I watched. He climbed off the bed altogether a few seconds later, tugging his shirt back down to cover his bare abdomen. I saw him deliberately slowing his breath, even as he rubbed his face with a hand, not looking at me.
    I don’t know what I thought he was doing exactly.
    I guess I expected him to go to the bathroom. Not because he had to go necessarily, but as a way to create distance between us, to break the mood. My second choice might have been the kitchen, for similar reasons.
    He didn’t go to the bathroom though.
    I don’t know if he went to the kitchen, but if he did, it wasn’t