22. Lincoln
22
Lincoln
Shaking my head, I follow Seraphina’s path, practically sprinting across the dance floor and through the side door where only employees are permitted.
I spot her running down the hall, faster than I would have thought possible in those heels she’s wearing, and I’m surprised by the amount of speed she’s picked up.
“Seraphina, where the hell are you going?” I call out behind her, walking as fast as I can without breaking into a run.
“Oh my god,” she squeaks, picking up the pace as she bursts through the exit down the hall.
Following her through the door, I step into the alleyway, looking around for Seraphina. At first, I don’t see her, and panic starts to rise in my throat that she somehow made it out of the alley without my knowledge and left, forcing us to delay the conversation we need to have.
My eyes sweep over the space once, twice, before finding Seraphina hunched over, breathing hard next to a stack of crates.
I allow her a moment of feigned solitude to process whatever emotions are ramming into her.
But a moment is all I’ll give her.
Keeping my footsteps light, I approach her slowly, conscious of just how much she seems to be freaking out right now.
“Seraphina, are you okay?”
She remains bent over, hands on her knees, as she breathes in and out. “Yes, doing great.”
“Sera—”
“Lincoln, I said I’m fine.” She stands up, whirling around on me with a finger pointed in my direction. “I’m fine, okay? So go back inside and have a good night.”
“Well, I’m not fucking fine, Seraphina. What about that?”
Stunned, she rears back, staring at my face before dropping her eyes. “What do you want me to say, Lincoln? You just broke up with your girlfriend, telling me I’m partly to blame. How the fuck do you want me to deal with that, Lincoln?” She spits her words like venom. “We have to spend the next however many months around each other. Can’t we just be cordial? Distant? I’ve gone through too many emotions in the last five hours to deal with you right now, and I need you to leave me alone.”
“Is that what you really want? You want me to leave you out here by yourself and go on with my night—with my fucking life—and pretend you don’t exist? If you tell me that’s what you really want, I’ll do it, but I don’t believe you for a fucking second, little thorn.”
“Do not call me that,” she seethes, her eyes looking up to meet mine again. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
“Or what, cierń?” I enunciate the Polish translation of her nickname, knowing it will increase her agitation.
“God, you are so aggravating.” She huffs, her arms crossing over her chest in an effort to close herself off from me. The move pushes her chest out, offering it to me on a silver fucking platter, and it’s everything I can do not to stare.
“And you’re too fucking beautiful, cierń.” My words seem to antagonize her because before I know what’s happening, five feet of angry Italian woman is flying across the short space separating us, fists raised and tears streaming down her face.
The thrumming of her fists against my chest feels like flutters, but I can tell by how she’s holding her hands that she’s never punched someone before and that her fingers are going to hurt with how hard she’s squeezing.
Trying not to hurt her, I press her hands against me, stilling the wildcat in my arms.
“Please, Sera. I need you to calm down.”
“I-I. Dammit, Lincoln,” she huffs out, her body finally relaxing against mine. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was supposed to see you and be okay with seeing you. I wasn’t supposed to react like this.”
I absorb her words, comprehending her meaning, because I’m there with her.
“Seraphina—” She cuts me off, plastering her lips to mine, and I stand there, stunned by the move. When I don’t respond, she rips her mouth from mine, looking up at me mortified.
“Oh my god. Lincoln, I’m so sorry.”
For years, I’ve had to fool myself into thinking that the sole kiss we shared was nothing—that its intensity was a figment of my imagination to get through the days, the months, the years, knowing that someone like Seraphina slipped through my fingers so completely. But this? This solidifies that I wasn’t building up sandcastles in my head.
Shaking my head at the pained expression on her face, I grab her face in both my hands, and I dive in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that conveys everything I want from her. It’s not gentle or smooth; it’s rough and needy, and I don’t hesitate to lick at her lips and coax her mouth open for me.
With a moan, she complies, admitting me access and letting my tongue lick into her mouth, feasting on her like the most delicious dessert I’ve ever fucking tasted.
She tastes tart, like the drink she had earlier, and reality hits my consciousness. I pull back, pride pounding on my chest at the dazed, blissed-out look on her face and her swollen red lips. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
I hold myself back, waiting for her response. I bought her a cocktail, but I have no idea if it was her first or one of many. Before things go further, I need to know that she’s okay, that she’s not drunk or unable to make decisions.
“I had half a drink. That tequila you bought me was it. I didn’t have anything at the apartment before we came here.”
“Do you feel tipsy? Drunk?” I need the assurance that she’s sober and wants this. I won’t continue if she’s not.
“No, I’m not tipsy. I’m not drunk.” She shakes her head, emphasizing her point.
“Thank fuck.” I dive back in, taking her lips again and resuming the kiss like we never stopped. I don’t think about anything else.
It’s a dam breaking, years of “what if” coming to fruition as my mouth consumes hers, a sense of rightness and need coursing between us in a way that’s scary. But right, so fucking right.
Like a woman possessed, she meets each lash of my tongue with one of her own, not battling me for control of the kiss but meeting me like a partner in a duel. She’s fucking addicting, and if all I could ever do was kiss this woman for the rest of my goddamn life, I wouldn’t complain.
Breaking away from her mouth, I trail kisses up her jawline, tracing a path from the smoothness of her face up to her ear.
“Fucking earrings,” I murmur against her jaw, letting my tongue out to trace right below the hole where the golden hoop pierces her skin.
“Next time, I’m going to rip these out and lick every part of you.”
“Next time?” she questions, her voice rising an octave as my hands move to the hem of her dress and drag it up.
“Yeah, next time, cierń.” I nip at her cartilage, licking away the sting at her hiss.
I let my mouth roam from her jaw down to her throat, kissing her skin as I settle my mouth on her clavicle. Like a starved man, I can’t help but suck on the skin, savoring the slight sheen of sweat and nipping her décolletage.
“God, Lincoln. Don’t mark me. I can’t wear my hair down in this heat.”
I breathe into her body before standing up and stretching to my full height. “If you’re thinking about your fucking hair, I’m doing it wrong.”
She swallows at my statement, looking up at me with her big, expressive eyes. Dropping my hands, I let my fingers fall to the hem of her dress, pulling at the fabric lightly. I should slow down, put physical distance between us before I do something like fuck Seraphina Rose Gregori against the side of a building in the middle of the city.
But my hands have autonomy, and one brush of my fingers against her smooth thighs overrides everything else I’m thinking.
“Is this okay, Seraphina?”
She stares at me a moment, contemplating her answer. I hold my breath, giving her time to decide what she wants. Whatever she sees on my face must convince her, and she nods at me. I don’t break eye contact as my hands resume their mission and pull the skirt of her dress up to her waist, exposing her lower half to the humid evening air.
“Can I touch your pussy, cierń? Can I feel you on my fingers?”
Nodding again, she tilts her head up, and I don’t deny her the kiss she is seeking. Capturing her lower lip between my teeth, I tug, relishing the moan she emits into the alley and letting the sound wash over me. Licking her, I step back to fully admire the woman in front of me.
Letting go with my left hand, I adjust my cock, moving it to a more comfortable position while I stare at the purple lace covering her pussy.
“That’s pretty packaging, cierń.” I let my right hand trace over the edges of the lace on her stomach, loving how she shivers beneath me. “Should I see what the present is underneath?”
My fingers slip below the waistband, trailing over the smooth skin until I meet soft hair. I watch her face as I play with the strip of hair, noticing that her eyes close every time I let my fingers dip a little lower, grazing her just above the most sensitive part of her body. With my eyes trained on her face, I let my fingers drop until I find her clit. Rubbing against it gently, I keep my touch soft.
“My god, Lincoln.” She huffs, tilting her pelvic bone up and granting me better access to her cunt. I don’t shift my focus, keeping my attention on her face and clit as I circle her.
“I want to be buried between your legs, cierń,” I rasp out, bending my face to lick her lips. “I want your cum on my tongue, your pussy around my cock, and your fucking screams in my ear. I want to fuck you against this goddamn wall like an animal, but I won’t.”
“Lincoln, I need more,” she pants out, moving her hips to ride against my hand. I still her undulations, keeping her hips pinned to the wall behind her as I continue my slow torture.
“You’ll take what I give you, cierń.”
Moving my hand further down, I find her opening and let one finger circle her tightness. “So fucking tight. Tell me, how many fingers do you think I can fit inside you, Seraphina? How much can you take tonight?”
“Hmmm,” she murmurs, shaking her head back and forth. “Please.”
I laugh, dipping one finger inside her. She’s fucking soaked, but even the single digit has trouble passing through, and I can’t imagine how fucking tight she’s going to feel once she’s wrapped around my cock.
“You can barely take my finger, cierń. What makes you think you can take everything tonight?”
“Please,” she repeats, her voice breaking as I pump in and out of her slowly, letting my thumb rub in lazy circles over her clit.
“Fuck,” I groan, easing a second finger inside her. “So goddamn tight. Holy shit.”
Increasing my pressure against her clit, I keep my thrusts slow as I move inside her, curling my fingers to rub against her G-spot. I watch her face with each pass, noting how her teeth come down on her lower lip each time I thrust just a little bit harder, a tiny bit faster. Reading her cues, I increase my speed, helping her reach her orgasm and come all over my fucking hand.
“God, yes. Just like that.”
“Say my name.” I thrust up, pausing with my fingers buried inside of her. “Say my fucking name when you come, Seraphina. Not god. Me. Say my fucking name because yours is the only name I call when I fuck my hand.” I start moving again, scissoring my fingers and opening her up as much as I’m able in this position. Maybe I’m a dick for saying that while my fingers are buried inside of her, but I need her to know exactly who she’s with right now.
I can’t see her cunt, can’t see how she grips me like a vice, but fuck, I can feel it.
“Next time,” I repeat, panting as I draw my fingers out before plunging them back inside. “Next time, you will be spread out for me, and I will fucking see you.”
“Lincoln,” she cries out, tears streaking down her face. Like a man possessed, I lean down, licking the trail of tears falling from her eyes.
Her breaths come faster, her oxygen intake shallower, as her body tenses and her pussy squeezes my fingers, drawing them in so completely we’re locked together. “Lincoln,” she gasps again, this time nearly silent in her scream.
I keep my fingers still as she comes, applying a small amount of pressure as her body spasms under my hand.
If I thought she was beautiful before, it’s nothing compared to how stunning she is when she finds her release. With her head thrown back, I lean down, pressing my mouth against her neck as I breathe her in and let her pleasure settle over me.
As her heart rate returns to a gentle thud, I remove my fingers, bringing them up for inspection. My hand is soaked, practically dripping with her cum, and I don’t hesitate to bring it to my lips. Licking my palm, I moan at the taste of her, wishing I could have had my mouth on her as she came.
Bringing my fingers to Seraphina’s mouth, I trace her lips with my middle and pointer fingers, smearing her cum over her before dropping a hungry kiss to her lips. She opens for me almost instantly, moaning at the faint taste of herself on our tongues.
Easing back, I reach down to fix her purple lace thong before I pull her dress down over her hips, concealing her beautiful body from my eyes.
Her clothing in place, I use my clean hand to run my fingers through her hair, smoothing it down so that it doesn’t look like she was just finger-fucked against a brick wall.
But as soon as her appearance is smoothed, reality seems to crash back down. I see it the moment it happens—her eyes go wide, her mouth drops open, and her skin pales.
“Oh my god,” she mutters. “Oh my fucking god.” She repeats the phrase over and over, and I watch her hands shake as they move to her mouth, holding her words.
“Seraphina—”
She shakes her head, hands still covering her mouth. “No.” She speaks into her fingers before lowering them. “No, this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean—my god. I am so sorry, Lincoln. I’m going to go back inside. Please, don’t follow me. Please, just—fuck,” she exclaims, stumbling toward the side door and yanking it open.