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Then he starts to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting in, each movement taking him deeper inside me. I’m so wet, my arousal soaks into the comforter, and the burning sensation of being stretched is replaced by white-hot pleasure. I moan loudly, no longer self-conscious or afraid.
“Fuck,” he pants as he thrusts back into me at the same time I utter, “More.”
I can feel him shaking like he’s trying to hold back. Like he doesn’t want this to end. And I don’t either.
His hand moves from my throat, skimming over one of my breasts and pinching my nipple. The pain mixed with pleasure pings through my body, lighting me up, and I grind my clit against his pelvis every time he pushes back into me.
I feel the moment when his control slips, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, tasting his sweat, savoring how powerful it makes me feel knowing I did this to him.
His breaths quicken, becoming ragged, and the pulse in his neck flutters rapidly against his skin. His free hand grips me tightly, bruising my flesh, marking me.
I nip at the large tendon in his neck, and something between a moan and a growl escapes his lips.
“I…” Whatever he was going to say is lost as he slides back into me, hot and slick, and I clench around him as the most potent orgasm I’ve ever experienced tears through my body. I feel the jerk of his cock as he comes with a strangled cry. He pushes deep into me and holds himself there as he empties into the condom.
He collapses on top of me, but quickly rolls off so he’s not dead weight. I blink into the stifling darkness. The only sound is our rhythmic breathing as we both lie there, speechless, boneless. The cool breeze from the open balcony door flitters across my overheated skin, soothing me like gentle fingers.
We’re still touching, his arm pressed firmly against mine, and the sensation comforts me as my eyes drift closed and I sink into the first dreamless sleep I’ve had since my mother died—no voices or visions—just blissful nothingness.
“I can’t do this.”Lincoln’s deep voice breaks through my memory, and my eyes refocus on his face.
Trey’s hand stops mid stroke.
“What?” I go still.
We’re frozen on my bed, his strong forearms still resting on either side of my shoulders and his warm breath tickling my swollen lips.
“I can’t…I don’t want to do this.” Link rolls off me, his movements sluggish and defeated.
I can’t help the feelings of shame and rejection that saturates my body, twisting my heart painfully. I cover my traitorous eyes with one arm, willing myself not to cry. It’s an unwanted emotional response, and I swallow it down, knowing if it were me telling him no, I would want him to respect my wishes.
I clear my throat before I respond, praying my voice won’t crack. “Did I do something wrong?”
I feel him turn his head in my direction, but I don’t look.
Link stands abruptly, the bed shaking with the movement, and around my arms, I see the light come on.
”Where are you going?” Trey’s voice sounds as hurt as I feel.
I can hear the rustle of clothing and then the sound of my dorm room door opening.
“I’m sorry. I need some air.” Then Lincoln is gone.
I still refuse to uncover my face.
Trey stands and puts his boxers on before sitting down beside me on the bed and gently pulling my arms down. I stare at him, hating the tears that trickle down my face.
He pulls me up and against him, and I melt into his embrace, letting his warmth comfort me until the lump in my throat eases.
“It’s not you, baby,” Trey whispers. “Having sex is a big step for him.”
I almost laugh. “I seriously doubt that Lincoln Evans has ever had problems with sex.”
“Meaningless sex, sure. But you’re important, and it scares him.”
I swallow, wishing I could believe his words.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
