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“Fucking soaking for me.”
“Not for you.” I hate the idea of him thinking I want him still.
His thumb circles my clit as he watches me.
“Then who? One of the customers?”
I remain silent hoping my hatred of him is clear as he continues to torture me with his magical fingers. My hips rock slightly, seeking more as desire pools heavy and slick on his fingers.
“Perhaps the barman, Marc?”
I grit my teeth, forcing the whimper in my throat away. “Yes,” I lie, wanting him to think it’s someone else who makes my body respond this way. Not wanting him to think he has any hold over me at all.
I should push him away, kick and scream at him for touching me like he owns me, but I can’t because Lincoln Coldwell has always owned my body and it seems he still does, but I’ll never let him know it.
He puts pressure on my clit as he toys with me and a whimper escapes without my consent, as need builds inside me. I’m already on the edge of an intense orgasm, and he’s barely touched me. It’s been too long since I’ve felt anything and now it feels like the stopper has come off and I want, no I need, to come so badly that it feels like I’ve been drugged.
“That’s it, Lottie, ride my fucking hand. Come all over my fingers.”
His words are harsh against my neck, where his lips are resting over my pulse. He’s not kissing me or touching me anywhere else, and this feels wrong but oh so right. I crest the ridge of desire as stars burst behind my closed eyelids.
“Look at me.”
His deep demand has my eyes flashing open to see Linc watching me with so much heat and fire it’s a wonder the club isn’t burning down around us.
“Come for me, Lottie.”
My body responds to his dark command and I stiffen before every sensation is overwhelming me. I cry out, my hands scrabbling for purchase on his suit as my climax makes my legs give way. Only the feel of his body against me is holding me upright.
As I come down from the pleasure he forced on me, I hate him even more than before, because deep down I know he would’ve stopped if I’d asked. Linc is a lot of things, but he isn’t a man to force a woman against her will. It’s my will that’s the problem and shame spirals through me as I look down and away from his heated glare. His fingers force my chin up and I watch as he slides the two fingers that were inside me into his mouth.
His eyes close and his nostrils flare as his hips rock against me, causing a pulse of desire to shoot through my clit.
“That doesn’t taste like I repulse you, Lottie.”
I need to get away from him, he’s scrambling my brain and I can’t think or breathe for him. “Go to hell, Lincoln. I have to get back to work.”
Lincoln’s eyes close and when they open again, he’s different, cold, with no trace of the man who just made me come harder than I ever have before. He steps back and walks to the door, leaving my skirt pushed around my hips as his eyes scan me from head to toe.
“Perhaps you’re right. The Lottie I knew would never dress like a whore and let a man touch her so intimately.”
Before I can offer him any kind of retort, he’s gone, leaving me shaken and angry, with him and myself.
I smooth my skirt down and head back to the bar, avoiding the worried look from Marc as I keep my head down and work my ass off for the rest of the night, all under the cool gaze of Lincoln Coldwell, who watches me with a scowl from the second-floor balcony.
Around ten, Marc disappears and I don’t see him again for the rest of the night. Perhaps he was sick, he did look a little peaky when I got back.
I make it home around three am and creep through the living room where I sleep, and where Mary, my neighbor, is snoring on the couch, to the bedroom where Eric is sound asleep. His face is relaxed, his body star-fished with the covers falling over the side. I tuck him in so the covers keep the cold out and head to the bathroom to undress. I won’t wake Mary, she needs her rest as much as I do. Taking off my make-up, I tiptoe to the chair in the corner and huddle up with a blanket and try and force my mind to clear so I can sleep for a few hours.
I have the morning shift at the diner in a few hours and then another night at Club Ruin. I’m exhausted in body and mind and still, I can’t sleep. My mind is too preoccupied with the man who broke my teenage heart. The man I’ve spent the last ten years hating and missing.
I should be over him by now, but I know Lincoln was never just a teenage crush for me, he was my world, and I was his until one day I wasn’t good enough and he discarded me like trash, making me feel like I was less than nothing
One thing I know for sure after tonight is that he’s more dangerous to me than he ever was, because this man has none of the warmth I remember, only the cold determination of a man who gets what he wants, and he sure looked like he wanted to take a bite out of me.
I fear I won’t stop him, even though I hate him with every fiber of my body.
4: Linc
