Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Abigail
Lincoln hasn’t touched me since the kitchen this morning.
Not in any way I want him to at least.
Not beyond the brush of his fingers when he passed me his plate. Not beyond the slow, deliberate drag of his knuckles along my lower back when he walked behind my stool at dinner. They were just enough to remind me he could have me whenever he decided he was ready. Just whispers of a touch.
And nowhere near enough.
It’s nearly eight now. The dishes are done. The house is quiet. And Jas, Lawson, and Beau won’t be back from their run to Billings for a few hours yet.
And I have been unraveling all damn day.
I wipe down the counter that is already spotless. The rag moves in tight circles over the same patch of granite. I don’t need to clean. But I do need something to do with my hands. Something to keep me from walking across the room and—
I glance up.
Because I feel him.
Again.
“You’re staring.”
“I am.”
“Didn’t your mom ever tell you staring is rude?”
“You didn’t think it was rude this afternoon,” he responds, his voice full of… of… smugness.
Slowly, I set the rag down and look him square in the eye. He’s sitting in the chair in the living room, legs spread slightly, forearms braced on his thighs. He doesn’t bother backing down. Just drags his gaze slowly from my face down the length of my body and back up again.
“You wearin’ that to bed?” he finally asks.
I glance down at the oversized T-shirt and thin sleep shorts I’d changed into after dinner.
I’d excused myself, desperate to stand underneath the scalding hot shower in order to calm my nerves, even though I’d already showered once this morning.
My entire body felt—feels—on edge from an entire day of being undressed by Lincoln’s stare alone.
I told him I’d clean up dinner when I came back down, but I should have known better.
When I came down, the kitchen was spotless, and the dishes were done.
Hence, my farce of wiping down a kitchen that clearly doesn’t need it.
“It’s comfortable,” is all I say in response.
“Didn’t ask if it was comfortable.”
Heat blooms low in my belly as I stalk across the room toward him. Each step slow and measured.
Once I’m standing between his spread legs, he finally gives me something and wraps his palms along the backs of my bare thighs. I have to force my eyes not to flutter closed as the pads of his thumbs slide just beneath the fabric of my shorts.
“You said if I was good…”
“I did.”
His hands trail beneath the thin cotton to grab my ass—a small smile tugs at his lips when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties. “Have you been good, Abigail?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
His eyes darken just slightly. Not wild or reckless. But focused.
He pulls me toward him until I’m forced to sit on his lap, my thighs straddling his as we sit chest to chest. “You’ve been distracted since dinner. You ran from me.”
“Did not.”
His thumb presses slightly against my lower lip as he caresses my jaw. “Sweetheart.”
The word is low and rough.
A warning.
“You think I didn’t notice the way you keep squeezing your thighs together?” he asks. “Or the way this blush on your cheek hasn’t left since I kissed you in the kitchen? Or how desperate you were for me to follow you into the shower so I could take care of that pretty pussy of yours?”
My hands curl into the fabric of his shirt as I feel his cock harden through his jeans. “You told me this afternoon that I was yours.”
His jaw tightens. “I did.”
“And that you love me.”
A slow, dangerous smile pulls at his mouth. “I do.”
Lincoln’s hand slides from my jaw, down my throat, stopping right at the center of my chest. “So why haven’t you touched me?” I ask breathlessly.
Sliding his hand to the side, he lets the pad of his thumb drag over one of my nipples. “Don’t mistake my loving you for going easy on you.”
The heat between my legs pulses. “Lincoln…”
“Because this…” he hisses as he reaches down and grabs the hem of my shirt before removing it from my body.
His mouth instinctively closes around my now-hard nipple, and when his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, I release a hushed moan.
“Watching you all day—desperate for me. Just wondering when I was going to give you what you wanted… it worked, didn’t it? ”
“No,” I answer immediately. “Actually, it kind of pissed me off.”
“Hmmm,” he groans with a devious smile as his hand slides down my stomach and into the waistband of my shorts. All it takes is one slide of his finger through my folds to know I’m full of shit. “It might have pissed you off, but it still made you wet for me.”
“I don’t like to be kept waiting.” My voice is lacking the heat it was just a moment ago.
His finger circles my clit, and I find myself threading my fingers through his hair. “That’s fine. Because I think I’m done waiting.”
I almost whimper when he slides his hand out of my shorts, but my dismay doesn’t last long when he brings his fingers coated in my arousal to my lips. “Open.”
I do as he says and open my lips. The moment he slides his fingers inside, my mouth closes around them. A low groan slips out as I taste myself on him.
“That’s my girl,” he praises.
I rock myself against him as his words of praise wash over me, and a second later, he pulls his fingers free, and his mouth claims mine—hard and fierce. The way he kisses me is hungry and frantic and so unlike the Lincoln that everyone else gets to see.
His hands are everywhere.
My waist.
My thighs.
My hair.
My breasts.
Eventually, they land on my ass, urging me to rock myself back and forth. Even through his jeans, I can feel how hard he is for me, and when I rub against him at the right angle, I can feel his want for me rubbing against my clit.
I gasp for breath. Lincoln uses that as his opportunity to flick at my nipple with his tongue, and I arch my back toward him as he continues to lick and suck at them.
Meanwhile, his hands explore the curve of my spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. My back arches further, only allowing him better access to my breasts.
Ever since I started working here, I’ve gotten in the best shape I’ve been in since I was probably a teenager. And while I know they would love me at any size, there’s something about the way they caress and touch and worship my newfound muscle.
“Fuck,” I whisper, when I rock over him just right.
Desperate for more, I reach between us, somehow manage to unbutton his jeans, and free his cock from beneath his briefs.
In an instant, I rub my pussy along the hard ridge of his cock, rocking myself over and over again, all while he continues to suck at me, switching from one breast to the other.
“Yes, Lincoln. God… yes,” I moan as my hands dig into his shoulders, my body now moving faster as the pleasure continues to build.
“That’s it, Sweetheart,” he whispers roughly. “Fuck me. Use my cock. Get off on me.”
“Yes,” I yell, my body now growing stiffer by the second. “Fuck. I’m right there, Lyubimyy. I’m gonna… I’m—”
I bury my head into his shoulder and bite at his skin through his shirt as I come all over his cock, riding out wave after wave of my orgasm until my body begins to relax.
As amazing as that was… I want more.
His eyes never leave mine as I slide off his lap and kneel between his spread legs. Regardless of the fact that I just came, my pussy clenches as I watch him wrap his hand around his cock and give it one slow stroke.
I push his hand away and grip his cock—slick with my release—and begin pumping it in my hand.
As I continue to pump him, I can feel my body come back to life. And when he lets out a shaky breath, I squeeze my thighs together.
It’s an amazing thing to watch a man like Lincoln—so composed and put together—come apart because of me.
“I want that mouth, Abbie.”
My lips curl before I suck the tip of him past my lips while gripping the base—squeezing tightly. I swirl my tongue around the head, tasting the saltiness of his precum and the sweetness of my release mixed together.
Christ, that’s hot.
Lincoln’s chest begins rising and falling at a faster pace as I continue to tease him, torture him, please him like he has done to me all day. I wouldn’t think it was working if I didn’t see the way his fists grip at the leather cushion of the chair or the way his quads tighten beneath his jeans.
Wanting to push him even more, I slide him deeper into my mouth. And when he hits the back of my throat, I swallow.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
I do it again.
Then I suck and lick along the head.
And squeeze at the base.
And I do the entire thing again.
And again.
And every time I repeat the process, I feel him come even more undone.
“Abigail…” he finally moans. And the way he says my name sends a wave of arousal straight to my core.
I glance up at him, still completely dressed, but you wouldn’t think so by the look on his face. Because it looks as if I’ve stripped him bare. His hand threads through my hair before he fists it, tugging sharply at the roots. “So fucking good, Abigail. Your mouth is so good.”
Like it always does, his praise spurs me on, and I continue to work his length with my mouth.
Bringing him to the brink before letting him come back down.
By the third time I do it, I can tell he’s had enough.
Relenting, I flick my tongue against the tip of his cock, letting the way he gasps for breath wash over me.
“Yessss. Such a good fucking girl,” he breathes, and I can feel my pulse pound in every part of my body. “Don’t stop. Keep teasing me.”
Well, if you say so.
I take him to the back of my throat as far as I can and gag around his length, and when his fist tightens in my hair, I know that’s what he was looking for.
I work his cock for what feels like five more minutes until he’s a panting mess beneath me—and I swear if I reached between my legs right now and touched myself, I would come from the sight of him alone.
Like he can read my thoughts, he pulls me off of him and stands in front of me. I shuffle back a bit, giving him room and giving me an unrestricted view as I watch him undress himself, all while his cock continues to leak precum—desperate to sink inside of me.
I bite my lip as I take in the defined ridges of his body. You’d never know by looking at him that he spends more time behind a desk than the other three because everything about him in this moment screams hard-working man.
A cowboy.
And fuck is it hot.
Lincoln sits back down in the chair and crooks his finger at me in a come-hither motion. “Ride me, Sweetheart."
Nodding, I climb back onto his lap, my legs straddling his.
“You still wet for me?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he’s reaching between my legs and feeling just how much I want him. “Fuck. So desperate for my cock aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I answer softly.
His abs flex as he lifts me slightly and notches the head of his cock at my entrance. His other hand reaches up and squeezes my jaw, forcing my eyeline to meet his. He watches with rapt attention as he slams my hips down and fills me, not leaving so much as a millimeter of room between us.
“Fu-uck,” I practically whisper, unable to speak clearly.
He doesn’t give me any time to adjust as his other hand reaches around and slaps the globe of my ass, causing me to contract around him.
“You like that, huh?” he asks roughly. “You like it when I slap this tight little ass of yours?”
“Yes, Lyubimyy.”
I clench my teeth as he slaps it again, squeezing my jaw in his other hand tighter.
“I’m not gonna last long, Lincoln,” I say, squeezing around him as he smacks me again.
“Let go, Sweetheart. Let go, and I’ll follow.”
One more spank and my body lets go. Between how deep he is inside of me, his hand on my ass, the other on my jaw, and the last twenty minutes of pleasure he’s brought me, there’s no more holding off.
My orgasm wreaks havoc on my body, and somewhere outside, I hear the sound of a truck pulling up, followed by doors opening and closing.
“Lincoln,” I warn, but he doesn’t let me stop.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop. Feel all of it, Abigail.”
So I do. I ride out my orgasm as he continues thrusting up into me.
“Fucking hell,” Lincoln says as he pumps harder and harder until he lets out a deep moan. “Holy… shit.” He stills inside of me just as the front door opens.
It takes Jasper all of one second to spot us and only another to wrap his brain around what he just walked in on. And when he does, a devious smile takes over his face. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”
“Out, Jas,” Linc commands, burying his face in my chest.
Regardless of the fact that Jasper has seen me naked—and probably in this same position—many times before, something about being caught red-handed makes my cheeks flame.
“Was just coming in to let you guys know we were home before we let out the cattle, but it seems you didn’t miss us all that much.”
“Jasper…” Lincoln groans now.
Jas raises his hands in the air, all while trying not to laugh. “Alright. I’m goin’, I’m goin’. Just make sure ya’ll clean up after yourselves. See ya in a bit, Red.”
He shoots me a wink, and he’s out the door as fast as he came in.
Lincoln kisses the center of my chest while rubbing along my back. His green eyes look up at me, and I press a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.
“What does that mean? What you called me?”
I don’t know why I said it, honestly, the word just kind of slipped out. But it felt… fitting. It felt right. “It means, Darling.”
His gaze softens.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
“Lyubimyy.”
“I don’t know why it never occurred to me that you spoke Russian.”
I shrug. “I don’t much. Usually, when I’m mumbling to myself.”
He smiles widely up at me. “You should do it more often.”
I lean down and kiss him softly before resting my cheek against the top of his head, soaking up this moment with him. Filling myself with the love I feel radiating from him.
Instead of saying “okay,” I just say, “Ya tebya lyublyu.”