Frog and Quinn: Chapter Ten (Patreon)

One step onto the black asphalt and my cheap rubber flipflop snaps. I tumble forward and catch my balance, just as Quinn clasps my elbow and braces me from face-planting in the sweltering Florida parking lot.

My pulse quickens at the literal misstep.

“What the fuck,” Quinn mutters, bending down to inspect my shoe before I can pull it off. The little plastic part between the toes hangs limply off the sole.

While he’s squatting, I clutch his muscular shoulder for support, balancing on one foot since the concrete looks third-degree-burn hot. His large, callused hand wraps around my ankle, not letting me touch the asphalt either. I untense as I watch him protect my foot.

We’re a team. It’s not surprising seeing Quinn Oliveira care about my wellbeing. I really care about his too. So why is his attentiveness so attractive? I feel myself melting more and more, and a weird sensitive ripple skates up my leg as he readjusts his clutch on my ankle. It tingles my whole body.

Maybe it’s just the heat. Florida is making me delirious. “Just go check on Luna. I’ll deal with this.” I might be able to fish the toe strap back through the rubber sole.

Quinn glances at the Escalade. It’s several yards away. “You shouldn’t make a run for it.”

“Which is why I said for you to go without me—”

“I’ll carry you.” He rises to a full stance, about to scoop me up in a cradle, but I place a quick hand on his chest as my stomach somersaults.

“I’m not your client,” I remind him quickly.

“You’re my partner.”

“Coworker,” I correct.

“Same thing, Kannika.” His brows lift higher at me. Our breathing patterns are changing at rapid speed. “Don’t make this weird.”

I glare. “You were about to pick me up like a bride.”

“For twenty seconds, yeah.”

“We’re on-duty. This is stuff you don’t have to think about. Epsilon already perceives me as a little incapable girl, and last thing I need is to be your damsel in distress.” Even if I wouldn’t mind being in his arms under different circumstances. Maybe it’s why my stomach can’t stop flip-flopping.

“Ian and Vance aren’t here to see shit,” Quinn reminds me.

“I’m here. I want to believe it too.” I hold his waist for balance. “You’d only carry me because I’m a girl.”

He shakes his head, disagreeing.

“So you’d cradle Gabe? I would love to see it, if you could lift him.”

“If I could lift him,” he repeats in irritation, sighing out strongly and raking a hand through his hair. God, why does he have to be so hot? This is really unfair. When his gaze slips down my body, I hope the same thought is crossing his head. “Okay, maybe you’re right. My instinct was to carry you like that because you’re a girl.”

We shouldn’t be spending so much time bickering. “Just go to Luna.”

“What if you get on my back?”

Now my brows spring. “You want me to ride you?”

“Kannika.” His throaty growl is doing something to me.

My neck burns. “Fine, okay.”

He’s shocked I relented. “Okay?”

“I could see you giving Gabe a piggyback ride. I just want to be treated like one of the guys,” I say without thinking.

He runs another hand through his thick hair. “Yeah, I don’t help my guy friends pick out porn to watch.”

“Oh.” Our eyes meet with a tense, sweltering beat that doesn’t exactly dissolve when Quinn crouches down for me. He hands me the broken flip-flop. His back to me now, I wrap my arms around his collar, feeling his firm chest muscles under my forearms.

He grasps the backs of my thighs as he lifts me up on him. I jostle against his back, and my breath ejects way too breathlessly. As I hold on to him for a moment, I find myself leaning in and inhaling his subtly sweet musk. I don’t think any man has ever smelled this intoxicating before. I didn’t think men could smell like this, honestly.

Scooter always had this faint soggy sourdough odor that made me want to pull away at last second. It was like my body knew before my mind would offer the same warning—do not sleep with him.

Quinn carries me piggyback to the rear of the Escalade. After he gently sets me down on one foot, he’s about to motion for the trunk sensor.

“Wait.” I catch his wrist. “Do you not see Donnelly?”

“Where?” He peers through the rear windshield. Which has less tint than the side windows. But Donnelly has already disappeared. Luna isn’t in sight either, but I just saw him sitting up in the backseat. I’m assuming she’s lying down.

“He just flashed us three fingers. As in wait three minutes.”

Quinn stiffens with more concern for our client. I like that he’s not questioning me. He’s not asking if I’m sure. He just naturally believes what I saw. Using the bottom of his shirt, he wipes sweat dripping down his temple. “I hope she’s not sick again.”

I nod in agreement. “I hope they’re fucking.”

Quinn blinks a harsh look at me.

I shrug. “Would you rather she be crying?”

“Okay, good point.”

Donnelly pops back up, gripping the top of the backseat while he rocks forward, and my smile expands tenfold. Signs point to: He’s inside her. “Get that big D, Lu—” Quinn turns me away from the car romp “—na.” We have our backs to the Escalade now, and I wobble a little into his side, teetering on one foot.

His hand hovers against the small of my back. “You might be perceptive as fuck, but you need tact.”

He’s not wrong. I force myself not to peek backward. “It’s inspiring.”

“A backseat fuck?”

“No, to be so overwhelmingly attracted to someone that you can’t wait for the hotel key. You have to do it. Right then, right there.” I wait for him to add his opinion, but he’s quiet. Just staring out at the ice cream truck on the other side of the parking lot.

“Thoughts?” I press.

“Yeah, it’s hot.”

That’s not what I said, but it magnetizes our eyes together in the next second. I want to ask him if he’s encountered that before. The can’t wait to rip your clothes off lust. But we’re at work (not that it’s stopped me from prodding before). So really it must be that I don’t want to picture Quinn in full-blown primal heat with his ex-girlfriend.

I jolt when the car door opens. Donnelly has exited first, messing his already messy chestnut hair with a hand. Shirtless—a variety of tattoos scatter his toned muscles, and he nonchalantly zips up his jeans.

If we weren’t friends with Donnelly, maybe we would do the very professional thing and act like nothing happened.

“Thanks for fulfilling my client’s needs,” I commend.

“Morning, noon, and night,” he grins, waiting for his girlfriend to slip out of the car.

Donnelly notices my one-footed stance, about to comment on it when Quinn says, “I didn’t see a star shoot across the sky.”

I’m confused, but Donnelly seems to understand. “Probably because you’re too busy making eyes at Froggy.”

Quinn flips him off.

Donnelly laughs.

“Aggravated eyes,” I add.

“Friendly,” Quinn inputs.

“Friendly aggravation—look, we agree on something else,” I tell Quinn.

He exhales a tensed breath, seemingly more aggravated at Donnelly, but the Yale boys—what we all call Donnelly, Farrow, and Oscar—love to rib everyone. Quinn isn’t exempt, and he usually takes it in stride.

Luna hops out of the Escalade in a sparkly green bikini. Donnelly scoops her by the waist, holding her against his chest before letting her jelly sandals touch the asphalt. So cute. Luna blushes a little, then pries her gaze off her boyfriend to tell me, “I might hit the pool before we go inside?”

“Works for me,” I say, not wanting to push my beach agenda too hard.

Quinn’s brows knit at me. “Actually,” he starts to tell her.

“Actually, nothing.” I hop out in front of Quinn. “I just need to grab a new pair of shoes from the trunk.”

Quinn pulls me backward beside him. “Frog has never touched a Florida beach. I think that needs to be changed like right fucking now.”

“Not now,” I say.

“Why not now?” Luna frowns.

“You want to go to the pool.”

She shrugs. “The beach is calling now. It must be explored.”

“Mission critical, space babe?” Donnelly asks Luna.

“Uh-huh. Frog’s life depends on it.”

I’m smiling at Luna, and she smiles even brighter back. It feels more like how we were. Like I’m on vacation with my friends and not just 100% on the job. It’s one of my favorite parts of being her bodyguard. I can spend all this quality time with her, and sure, I’m being paid—but I would do this for free if I didn’t need money to, you know, survive.

While I pop the trunk, Donnelly and Luna go check out the ice cream truck in eyesight of the Escalade.

“You can go with them,” I tell Quinn while I unzip my rolling suitcase.

“They’re close enough, and I don’t like breathing down their necks when there aren’t active threats around.” He checks his phone. “No one even knows they’ve left New York.”

“Yet.” I find a pair of wedges. Not practical to run in, but whatever, it’ll work. I don’t foresee Luna sprinting down a boardwalk. Sitting on the trunk, I switch out my shoes.

Quinn stands underneath the shade of the erected hood. So near that his leg almost brushes against the heel of my foot.

It only ramps up this suffocating heat. I’m sweating. “You think I have time to change my top?”

“If you’re fast.”

I can be fast. I dig out my white string bikini top. After unclipping my comms mic and spooling the cord around the radio, I reach under my shirt and maneuver my bra off.

Quinn blinks. “What are you—” He stops himself short, expelling a rougher breath.

“Now you’re being weird. You know changing requires getting undressed?”

“I know, but we’re in a parking lot.” He’s only staring at me. Not even glancing around at who can see. I’d like to think it’s because he trusts me—that he sees I’m scanning our surroundings while his back is to the world and while his eyes are on me.

“I haven’t taken my shirt off.”

His gaze flits to my boobs. I just barely peek down. Oh my nipples are definitely perked and visible beneath the white fabric of my T-shirt. I’m also struggling to put the bikini top on underneath the tee. Quickly, I find a reasonable solution.

I throw a beach towel at Quinn. “Hold this up so no one sees me.”

He spreads the towel out to shield the back of the trunk. Without hesitation, I pull off my T-shirt. Going fully topless in order to tie my bikini.

Of course Quinn can see, but this isn’t a big deal. Quick changes are a thing in security. Bodyguards have to be ready at a moment’s notice. I’ve seen most of Omega’s dicks, and I’ve also changed in front of them before. Including Quinn.

Nothing has changed. Except as we look at each other and his eyes drop to my tits, the air thickens. He clears his throat, a knot stuck in it, and the noise must be louder than he intended because he grumbles a low, “fuck” under his breath.

I realize we’ve both never been single while we undressed in front of each other. 

That has changed.

“Everything okay?” I ask while I cover myself with the top and mess with the straps at my neck.

“You like the ocean?” he asks.

So we’re skirting around the tension. Great idea. I exhale. “I don’t have any particular feelings toward the ocean.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve only been swimming in the ocean twice.” I knot the strings at my spine way too tight and undo them.

“Twice?” His surprise is noted.

“After my parents’ divorce, my dad took me to Rockaway Beach when I was a kid, but he’d spend more time hawkeyeing me like the beach and ocean were filled with landmines. If I went in the water, I wasn’t allowed to go out past my kneecaps for fear of the rip current. If I played in the sand, I couldn’t dig a hole too big for fear of it caving in on me. So the Rockaway Beach trips stopped after the second time and instead of me visiting my dad in Queens, he’d come up to Buffalo for a couple weeks out of the year to catch up with me.”

 “And I thought Rodrigo was strict.”

I smile. He sometimes refers to his parents by their first names, and I’ve concluded that it’s an Oliveira sibling thing. At least, I’ve noticed those three will do it more often the more they hang out together.

Quinn lowers the towel a little now that I’m decently clothed. Just fighting with the knot at my back.

“My mom was way stricter than my dad,” I tell him. “But maybe I only think that because I was around her more. Looking back on it, my dad might have been overly cautious because he was in charge of my wellbeing while I was visiting him in Queens. And if I returned to Buffalo with even a scratch on my cheek, my mom would probably freak out and ask a million questions.”

“She never took you to the ocean?” Quinn wonders.

“We didn’t have a ton of money growing up for trips, and Lake Erie was closer.” I don’t mention that my mom worked a lot, and the attention I got from her wasn’t the fun “bonding” kind. I growl in frustration at the swimsuit. “I might have to go out topless if this won’t untie. The whole suit is digging into me.”  

He immediately takes a seat beside me, and I show him the problem on my back. Without asking, he’s already untying the triple knot for me. I feel the warmth of his body against mine and the brush of his knuckles against my skin.

The top loosens, and I clasp the fabric against my breasts while he reknots it at my spine.

“That good?” he asks about the tightness.

“Perfect.” I hear the strain in my own voice. You’re just a team player. A girl who’s a part of the team. You can’t catch deep feelings for someone on the team. I repeat the sentiments over and over. It’s Quinn. It’s just Quinn. You like Quinn.

I can’t like him as anything more than how Donnelly likes him.

And I don’t. I really don’t.

“Lucky for you,” Quinn says, “I’m really fucking good at untying knots.”

“Is this a kink I should know about?”

“You always have to take it there?”

I smile over at his grouchiness. “Just to see the little wrinkle in your brow.”

He lets out a short, grouchy laugh, but I catch sight of his hiking smile.

“You like it,” I tease, facing forward again.

“You know how to get under my skin.” He says like it’s fact. Maybe even a good fact. Before I prod further, he says, “Done.”

Top sufficiently secured. I clip my mic to the string on my shoulder and fit the earpiece back in my ear, winding the cord down my back and attaching the radio to my short’s pocket.

Truly ready. But still, we don’t hurry to leave the trunk.

Luna and Donnelly aren’t eating ice cream. Rather, they’re messing around with a seemingly abandoned skateboard. She tries to skate-crouch between his legs while he smokes a cigarette with a rumbling laugh.

It’s strange being voyeurs to epic love. Especially as we’re both coming out of toxic relationships. I feel myself hoping to find what they have—when that’s not the point.

The point is to just lose my virginity.

Sex without emotion.

My phone buzzes between us, and before I pick it up, the text message brightens on the screen. Quinn glances down and sees. His muscles flex into solid, concrete bands at the name.

SCOOTER

I click out of the message, nervous to even see what he wants. “We don’t text,” I tell Quinn. “He hasn’t texted me since we broke up, I mean.”

He’s unblinking. “You didn’t block him?”

I frown. “Did you block Nessa?”

We’re staring so deeply into each other, it almost hurts to breathe. It feels like it’d be even more excruciating to look away. But we should. We should have eyes on Luna.

“Yeah,” Quinn nods. “I blocked her after Vegas.”

After he ended things with her, he means.

I open my mouth, but what do I say? That I considered blocking Scooter, but he never really sent anything nasty? That I know I left a door open for him to return, but I’m not walking through it?

“Kannika,” Quinn practically whispers my name. Gentle. No harm in any syllable.

“We need to focus on Luna.” I hop off the trunk and pocket my phone in my jean shorts. Quinn shuts the trunk, then follows me.

Neither of us says a word.

The sun sinks low in the sky. Luna is in public now. My vigilance heightens. The countdown to when not if her location gets leaked has begun.

Thank you so much for reading the next installment of Frog and Quinn! It's been so much fun getting to know them better through their story. Also, we hope you loved the Luna and Donnelly cameos. There will obviously be more from these two now that the summer trip has commenced! Another chapter has been written and we're in the editing stages, so you can expect that sometime soon. Keep on the lookout!

xoxo Krista & Becca

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MUSIC: We listened to "Into Dust" by Mazzy Star while writing this chapter.

“Frog and Quinn," Copyright © 2025 by K.B. Ritchie