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His body.
If a tiny part of me wanted more, I had only to stuff it down under the pleasure to make it quiet down. At least for now. Maybe later I’d be in trouble.
He pushed at my leggings until I managed to roll them off my hips. He groaned and dropped to a crouch. He pressed my thighs wider and fastened his mouth over my pussy. My hands went right into his hair. There was no moving him when he decided to taste me. And I wasn’t dumb. There was nothing more intense than Lincoln’s mouth on any part of my body, but most of all there.
He swung my leg up over his shoulder and thrust his tongue into me. I arched off the thin table and almost toppled us. It was sturdy, but not made for this kind of action. He leaned back and I started to hop off. “No. You simply have to stay still, Miss Kane.”
I shivered. An hour ago I hated when he called me that, now it created only liquid fire.
He lightly licked under my clit, then circled it and released it. “Think you can do that?”
“Probably not, but I’ll try.”
He tucked his thumb inside me and pulsed lightly. “Try really hard. I’m not ready to let your taste out of my mouth.”
“Sweet mercy,” I whispered.
What was it about this man looking up from between my legs that made me insane? It had to be how direct he was. My fingers sank into his shoulders. He winced a little, but didn’t slow down, circling and circling until I was wild to move.
“Please, Linc.”
His eyes flared a bright blue in the distilled light of the foyer. He didn’t stop. The endless shallow thrust of his thumb and his busy tongue drove me insane. I soaked his face, but he didn’t stop.
The sounds were lewd and I wanted to back away from it even as my body poured out more and more moisture for him. In the beginning I’d needed it, but now my body knew him. It was made for him.
And I needed his cock inside me.
“Please, Linc,” I said again. My breath was a mere whisper against the raging heartbeat that had arrowed down to my clit and up to my nipples and between my ears where the filmy blackness was encroaching.
I hated that he could bring me to a place that was so fuzzy and unclear. That he became every sense in my body.
But I loved it too.
I had no choice but to surrender to him, only because I knew he’d soon be doing the same to me. I dragged my hands over his shoulders, into his hair, down his neck to his back. Anything to make him push me over. I shouted his name and couldn’t help but arch up to his mouth as his tongue and fingers worked in tandem.
I splintered like the fragile icicles outside the door.
I was dripping under his heat, just like the sun outside.
My thighs trembled and he only pushed me harder, demanded more. My cries turned to sobs and he quickly stood and swung me off the table to the couch. He fumbled for the candy dish where we’d stashed condoms last night.
Then I was split wide on the edge of the couch as he knelt in front of me and thrust inside me. I wound myself around him and took each punishing blow of his body inside me. The first few times felt like he was trying to split me in two. I tilted my hips and there was nothing but bliss.
He slammed against every wall inside me, figurative and real. I had to let him inside.
I had no defenses for this man.
Two days and I was doomed.
Dear God, help me.
He shuddered in my arms, and I scratched my nails up from his lower back and down to his delicious ass to hold him inside me. I loved the pulse of him, just when he was about to let go. He pulled back a little and our lips met a second before he cried out into my mouth.
My name.
A broken, scarred, whispered version of my name.
I held onto him so tight my muscles locked in reaction to the intense release. Then we were nothing but a sweaty heap on the couch.
