Chapter 37 Lincoln
Chapter thirty-seven
Lincoln
Idon’t remember deciding to kiss her.
One second she’s there, eyes bright with anger and hurt—both of which I put there—and the next my mouth is on hers, like my body finally overruled every careful, measured thought I’ve ever had.
Fuck.
Her lips are soft and warm, and the shock of it nearly knocks the air out of my lungs. I’ve imagined this, more times than I’ll ever admit. But nothing prepared me for how right it feels. How natural. Like something I’ve been waiting for, for far longer than I realized.
She makes this quiet sound against my mouth, but she’s not pulling away, she’s not hesitating, and that’s all it takes.
I grip her tighter. Like if I don’t, she’ll disappear.
Our kiss is clumsy at first. Too much want, too much heat, all of it crashing together all at once.
I breathe her in, and the faint trace of honey, something warm and familiar and entirely hers, washes over me.
My hands slide from her face to her waist, fingers digging in like I need the reminder that she’s real. That this is actually happening.
That I’m letting myself be here.
Abigail kisses me back harder like she’s desperate to get as much of me as she can, and something inside my chest cracks open. Years of restraint. Of choosing distance. Of telling myself I don’t get to want things like this anymore. Just… gone.
We stumble as I pull her away from the wall, her legs wrapped around mine, and knock into the small entry table hard enough that something clatters to the floor.
Neither of us looks. I don’t even take a second to slow down.
I can’t. As I guide her backward, my mouth never leaving hers, my breath ragged and uneven, my pulse pounding so loud I swear she can hear it, I press her center tighter against me, and she lets out a low moan.
“This is—” I start, then lose the words when she kisses me again, fingers twisting in my hair.
“Please don’t go,” she whispers against my mouth.
“I won’t,” I answer without hesitation.
I won’t walk away this time.
I shift her in my arms, and she gasps sharp against my mouth as her hands clutch at my shoulders.
It all feels so instinctual. Like my body has known exactly how to hold her all along.
I was going to take her to her bedroom, but that suddenly feels entirely too far.
So, I continue carrying her through the main living area until we reach the small dining table.
I bump us into chairs, into the edge of the table, before I reach a hand out and swipe away anything that may be on top of it, not caring what the fuck I just broke.
Everything is rushed. Ungraceful. Real. And fucking feral.
And when I finally lay her back against the wood dining table, my hands are shaking.
Not with fear.
But with the weight of it all.
Of her.
Of the fact that this—this moment—will change the rest of my life.
Bending over, I rest my forehead against hers, breathing hard, my thumb brushing against her jaw as I try desperately to ground myself before the little control I have left gets away from me. “Abigail,” I murmur, her name rough on my tongue.
She looks up at me like she’s as ravenous for this as I am.
So I kiss her again.
Abigail’s legs wrap around me as I reach back with one hand and run my palm along the bare expanse of her thigh, only stopping once I realize she’s not wearing any goddamn panties.
“Lincoln,” she breathes against my mouth, not pushing me away. Not stopping me.
A low and feral groan works its way out of my throat before I kiss my way down the slope of her neck, nipping against the sensitive skin as I go.
“I know,” I say hoarsely as I look back into her eyes.
“I know. Just—fuck—tell me to stop if you want me to.” My fingers ghost along the apex of her thigh, creeping closer to where I know she wants me.
“All you have to do is tell me to stop, Abigail, and I will. But just know, if you don’t…
well… I’m a very patient man in many aspects of life, Sweetheart. But in the bedroom is not one of them.”
She doesn’t tell me no.
In fact, her hips lift ever so slightly against my hand, and her lips part on a soft sigh.
But it’s not enough.
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.
But there’s part of me that wants nothing more than to have you on your knees for me.
” Slowly, I let my hand move between her thighs, and when my fingertips find what they’re looking for, she rewards me by widening her legs.
“To watch you make a mess of my cock as I fuck your throat.” A small desperate whimper slips past her lips as the tip of my index finger slides through her arousal.
“To see the look on your face when I fuck you so hard you know you’ll feel me there for days.
To watch you call my name when you come.
” I tease her by inserting just the tip of my finger into her pussy, and when she thrusts against me, I pull back, leaving her desperate for more.
“To have you begging for more of what only I can give you.” I give her one fierce but quick kiss, then whisper against her lips, “To hear you utter the words, ‘Yes, sir.’” She gasps against my mouth, but her pupils blow wide with excitement.
“Is that something you want, Sweetheart?”
She nods as she exhales a ragged breath.
“I need to hear the words.”
Her eyes search mine for only a moment, and when a small smile tugs at her lips, I know she’s going to give me what I want. So when she lifts her hips, I slowly slide two fingers back inside of her before she mutters the words, “Yes, sir.”
Oh, fuck, yes.
“That’s my girl.” I thrust my fingers to the hilt inside of her.
She tips her head back and let’s out a loud moan, and the sight of it sends whatever blood’s left flowing through my body straight to my cock.
“You look so beautiful, Sweetheart. So fucking beautiful taking my fingers. Imagine what you’ll look like taking my cock. ”
Abigail’s eyes snap open as her cunt tightens around my fingers, and I know I don’t have much time. Because as desperate as I am to hear her come, I’m even more desperate to hear it while she’s wrapped around my cock.
Reluctantly, I pull my fingers out and smile to myself as I listen to her sweet, sweet whimper. But the sound is replaced with something even more satisfactory as she watches me slip my fingers into my mouth. Tasting every drop of her delicious arousal.
“I’m going to do all of those things I mentioned, Sweetheart. But not right now. Right now is going to be fast and rough. I need to feel this pussy around my cock.” Her chest heaves as she listens to my words. “Tell me that’s okay.”
I may not phrase it as a question, but we both know it is.
Because regardless of my sexual proclivities, I would never do something she wasn’t comfortable with, not after everything she’s already been through.
But when she smiles and gives me another, “yes, sir,” I know this beautiful woman is up for more than meets the eye.
Desperate to see all of her, I grab the middle of what looks like one of Lawson’s extra shirts in both fists and, with one swift yank, I rip it in two.
Her eyes flare. “Okay. If you guys are going to keep ripping my clothes, we’re going to have a prob—”
I gently wrap one hand around the base of her throat and crash my mouth against hers. I explore her mouth for a moment before biting at her lower lip. Her small yelp from the sting of pain sends a shiver up my spine. “You may get away with that sass with the other three, but not with me, Abbie.”
My jaw clenches as her eyes narrow. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
I’ve seen it since the day I met her. The fire.
The sass. The pure determination to be whoever she wants to be.
And I’d never dull that spirit in her. Hell, I’ve been desperate to witness it, and I know I’m one of the luckiest men alive to get a front-row show.
But I’d be lying if I also said I didn’t want a shred of her submission.
For her to be the woman who will let go just enough for me to show her just how much I worship the ground she walks on.
My hand squeezes around her slender throat just a little tighter. “Do not push me, Abigail.”
Her hazel eyes flare up at me. Her cheeks heating at the challenge. “I’m starting to think that…” she murmurs as she reaches around one of her legs and undoes the button of my jeans, followed by the zipper with one hand. “I’m starting to think I want to.”
With my opposite hand, I help her free my cock, and I practically fucking weep when her fingers brush against it.
But just when I think she’s going to wrap her fingers around it, she lifts her hand in front of my face, palm facing up.
When I look at her in question, she raises a brow, bites her fucking lip, and wiggles her fingers.
Gathering a bead of saliva in my mouth, I spit it into her palm. “I think I’ve severely underestimated you.”
She smiles. It’s mischievous. Pure. Real. “Most men do.”
Before I can say anything else, Abigail wraps her hand around my cock. The hand not around her neck slams against the table, as I brace myself so I don’t fall the fuck over. I get lost in the feeling of her hand around me, and before I know it, the familiar feeling of an orgasm races up my spine.
No.
“Abigail. Sweetheart. You gotta stop. I’m gonna come.” She doesn’t stop. Instead, she grips me tighter, her own small moans of satisfaction joining mine. “Fuck. Abigail, stop. Now.”
She still doesn’t stop.
No. Fuck no. I’m not coming in her fucking hand. Not happening.
I force myself to get a fucking grip and wrap my hand around her wrist before pinning it to the table next to her head. Leaning over, my hold on her neck tightens once more, and I know at this point it’s getting a little difficult for her to breathe. But she doesn’t budge.
Instead, she rubs her pussy against my throbbing cock.
“What did I say about pushing me?” I snarl against her lips.
“And what did I say about wanting to?”
I huff a laugh before pushing my hips back and lining up the head of my cock with her entrance. “Birth control?” I ask. Wanting this part to be quick and to the point.
“Yes. There’s been no one in years except Jasper,” she whispers. And I’m proud to see there’s not a hint of guilt in her eyes over the fact that she slept with Jas. “I’m clean.”
“So am I,” I reply. What I don’t tell her is that I haven’t slept with a single person since Melissa. There hasn’t been a single woman who’s been worth my time. Not one. Not until I met her.
“Are you gonna stand there all day?” I raise a brow at her. “I mean, if you’re going to talk the talk, you gotta be able to walk the—”
I slam my hips forward without letting her get another word out.
In fact, the only noise she makes is a small scream at the sudden intrusion.
Leaning over, I run my tongue up the swell of one of her breasts, stopping once I get to the base of her throat.
Her pussy tightens around me when I remove my hand from her neck and suck at the skin until a small purple mark starts to form.
“What was that you were going to say?” I ask. My voice rough.
“Noth-nothing.” My hand slides from where I have her wrist pinned on the table, down her arm, over the curves of her torso, and down her thigh, where I squeeze the firm muscle before wrapping it around me.
“That’s what I thought.” Slowly, I push my hips backward until just the head of my cock remains. “You gonna shut up and take my cock now, Abbie?”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpers, and I slam my hips forward again, but this time I don’t stop.
My hips slam against Abigail’s in a steady but fierce rhythm. I thrust into her so hard that I have to stop her and the table from sliding across the room. But I don’t give a fuck. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted her to feel me there for days.
“Damn, Sweetheart. I fit inside this pussy so fucking perfectly.” Her hands find my hair as I drop my forehead to hers. And before I can think better of it, I utter the words, “Thank you for making me feel at home.”
That must do it, because I don’t get another second of warning before she comes around me.
I don’t stop fucking her as she screams my name. And I try as hard as I can to commit the sound to memory. It’s breathless. Euphoric. Agonizing. And so fucking perfect.
When she runs her hand down my spine, her nails scratching against my skin as she goes, I finally let myself go. I come inside her deep and fast. Filling her cunt with every last bit of my release. And when she utters the words, “You feel so good inside of me, Lincoln,” I have to take a moment.
Gripping her face with one hand, I let my eyes search hers, because I’m sure eight words have never sounded better.
Because I’m sure that if she’d let me, I’d stay right here for the rest of my days and die a happy man.
Because I’m sure that I’m a fucking goner, and I don’t even know how the hell it happened.