Quentin got up and stripped his clothes off in record time, then followed her onto the bed. Manhandling her a little, he arranged them into the position that would work easiest for this: on their sides, facing each other. No complicated angles required, nothing that made either of them support their own weight, but easy to pull out when he needed to.

Once they were positioned, Hope's leg up over his hip, Quentin reached down to take hold of himself, rubbing the head of his cock between her lips, teasing them both for a moment. He took a long exhale as he came to rest in the right spot. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. Slowly, he shifted forward, letting out a desperate sound as he sank into her. "Good boys don't come. Good boys don't come."