36. Lincoln
36
Lincoln
I release Sera’s flesh, licking at the faint bite marks I left on her skin. “Mine,” I growl, sounding every bit the possessed man I’ve become.
My possession started before my cock was buried inside Seraphina Rose Gregori. It started before I had the taste of her lips, her cum, and her sighs in my mouth. It began in that shitty, overly decorated dorm room when I had to throw myself on a goddamn cowhide rug to stop myself from consuming every part of her.
I squeeze Sera’s throat, restricting her air just a little to heighten the rest of her senses. “I’m going to fill this pussy up, Seraphina, make sure it’s dripping with my cum so that any motherfucker who thinks they have a chance at you, who even looks at you, smells me on your skin.” My fingers flex over her pulse, reveling in how fast her heart is beating as I fuck her.
I could use flowery words, claim I’m making love to her, or some other nonsense, but that’s not even remotely close to what we’re doing. No, it’s raw, messy, and so fucking dirty that it’s obscene.
“So fucking good,” I repeat, moving my hand from her throat to the side of her face so that I can twist her head toward me. “Eyes on me, mój ma?y cierń, ” I order, waiting until her pretty brown eyes are staring at me before I continue, “I fucking love you. If you believe nothing else, know that. Feel that. Only fucking you, cierń.” I lean down, pressing my lips against hers to lock the words in. Her mouth opens on a cry, and I feel the walls of her pussy clench around me, drawing me in deeper as my thrusts quicken.
I swallow her breathy moans and still as my orgasm drums into me, rendering me momentarily immobile as I hold her body against mine. Seraphina stills, too, arching her ass into me, sealing us even tighter as her cunt milks the cum out of me.
“Fuck,” I mutter against her mouth, letting my lips graze against hers as I curse. Moving my hand down, I circle my fingers around my softening cock and pull out slowly, keeping my hand against her pussy as I do. When the head of my dick slides out, I press my hand against her, keeping my cum inside her.
“Lincoln, I need to clean off.” Seraphina wiggles against me, her voice breathless and high-pitched.
“Just give me a moment, cierń. I know I need to help you wash off, but I love that my cum’s inside you.”
“Caveman,” she teases, a breathy laugh slipping from her lips.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes but move my fingers, letting our combined cum flood her thighs. My tone is light, a tease, while my lips press against the pulse at her neck. “Let’s get you cleaned up, you little thorn in my ass.”
—
I tried to get Seraphina to come to brunch with me and my parents, but she emphatically refused, telling me that to show up without a formal invitation from my parents would be rude and inexcusable. I rolled my eyes at her reasoning but, sitting here with both my parents at the popular French restaurant, I’m relieved Seraphina didn’t come.
Not because I don’t want her here, but because my parents have spent the last twenty minutes talking about Gemma.
“And you don’t think that you move on too quick, kochanie ? It’s been less than a month since Gemma and you broke up,” my mom comments between bites of her crêpes, leveling me with a look that says her question was rhetorical and she already knows the correct answer.
Instead of silently agreeing, I argue back, “Gemma and I were done a long time ago. I get that to you two, it comes as a shock, but our relationship was over six months ago in everything but formality.” I may have dragged my feet with the actual breakup, and it looks shitty that Seraphina showed up at the same time that I mentally had enough of the bullshit that was Gemma and me. But it doesn’t change the fact that our relationship was a physical, financial, and mental drain.
“You know I love my job, even if my hours took some adjustment, but Gemma couldn’t reconcile that. Every day was a fight over my profession, how being a chef wasn’t glamorous enough for her, and I couldn’t do it anymore. It wasn’t fair to her since she was so unhappy with who I was and what I wanted, and it wasn’t fair to me that I had to defend my passions. It ran its course, Mamo .”
“And what about Seraphina?”
I sigh, about to open my mouth to her unspecified question, when my dad interjects, “You know he’s been in love with that girl since he met her.”
“That’s true,” my mom concedes. I’d open my mouth to deny the accusations if it wasn’t true. But I told Seraphina the same thing in her bed this morning, so there’s no point in pretending it’s false. “But still, it seems very fast, Lincoln.”
Stabbing my omelet, I buy myself a few seconds as I pop the egg into my mouth and chew. Swallowing, I reach for my coffee and blow on the steam. “Listen, I respect you and Dad, your opinions, but on this, you’re wrong.” I take a sip of the hot liquid and set my cup back on the saucer. “There’s no more discussion that needs to be had on this. Gemma moved out, it’s over.”
“Fine. If you’re with Seraphina, does Debbie know? I spoke to her last week, and she mentioned nothing about this.” I cringe at the reminder that my mom is close with Mrs. Gregori, having been introduced when my dad needed legal advice for one of his clients.
“I have no idea what Seraphina has or hasn’t told her parents.”
“Hmm,” my mom hums, looking at me with a statement I can’t quite understand in her eyes.
“ Mamo , if you have something to say, just say it.” I sigh, dropping my fork and knife and leaning back against my seat.
“We love the Grgeoris, and Seraphina is a sweet girl, but shouldn’t you two be on the same page with what you are or are not telling each other’s family? It seems a little strange if they don’t know.”
“Ava knows, Grey knows, Bianca knows. Hell, I’m sure that when I was at their house a week ago, we were damn obvious about it.”
“Language, Lincoln,” my dad drawls, not looking up from his plate.
Running a hand over my face, I suck in a breath and hold it, letting the oxygen deprivation fuel my patience. Letting it out slowly, I refocus on my mother’s face. “I’m sorry. But can we drop this? I understand you have questions, but I don’t have an answer other than what I feel for Seraphina is more than I’ve ever felt for anyone. She’s the person I want in my life, and I pray to every god that exists in the universe that she feels the same way about me. What she’s experienced…” I pause, shaking my head at the memories she shared. “What she’s experienced makes her jaded and cautious, so I’m working with her timeline. Aside from that, I have nothing else to tell you.”
Tears well in my mother’s eyes at my words. “I’ll say one last thing: be good to each other, dobra ?” I nod at her, leaning forward on my elbows. Her concern appeased, she nods back at me and sets her plate aside. “Have you spoken to Jordan recently?”
“Jordan, as in Jordan Fitzpatrick? Why would I have spoken to her recently? I haven’t seen her since we graduated college.”
“Why are you saying her name like that? She’s a nice girl. Anyway, Linda mentioned that she’s moving to New York for a new job in an art gallery. Isn’t that nice?”
“Cool.” I shrug, looking past my mom’s shoulder over at the crowded bar. It’s mid-morning on a Sunday, but that doesn’t seem to stop people from day drinking. The crowd bleeds into the open patio, people spilling all over the restaurant. I’m thankful as fuck I don’t work at a place like this, where the chefs are responsible for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My mother may have been excited to try this place, but I’m more than fine to never come back.
My mother continues talking, saying something about Jordan as though she’s of importance to me. Growing up, we were friendly in an “I see you at social events and don’t want to stab my eyes out when I talk to you” way. When we both ended up at Marymount, I’d say hello to her in public, but that was the extent of our friendship until she came over drunk one night and tried to fuck me. It was random, weird, and so out of the norm for Jordan that I knew her former friend, Felicity, probably convinced her it was a good idea.
Hell, she probably gave her the idea in the first place.
I tune her out, nodding every so often to give the appearance that I care about the direction this conversation has taken when a head of shockingly blond hair catches my eye, a shade so bright, I’ve only ever seen it on one person. From my position at the table, I can only see the back of the guy’s head and his slim frame, but I keep my stare on him, something telling me that it’s exactly who I think it is.
As if sensing my gaze, the head of hair starts to move, shifting back and forth as though he knows he’s in my sights. He turns fully in his seat, surveying the restaurant and giving me a good look at his smug face. A face that I swore I’d pound into the ground if I ever saw it again.
Mitch the Dick Abernathy.
I may have only met him once, but his preppy facade and all-American good looks are burned into my memories like an unwanted scar. I doubt he remembers who I am, having dismissed me so easily the only time we met. I fucking hope he has no idea who’s staring at him and underestimates just how much danger he’s in by sitting at the bar while I’m here.
I watch Mitch scan the restaurant, passing over me and my parents, before turning back to the woman seated on his right. I watch the back of their heads as they lean in toward each other, the way his hand moves to the back of her chair as though caging her in. Another woman—presumably the girl’s friend—interrupts, tapping her on the shoulder and forcing her to turn away from Mitch.
It’s then that I watch Mitch reach into his pocket before reaching across his body toward her drink. Every instinct I have ignites. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I murmur, pushing out my chair and standing up.
“Lincoln, what’s going on? What are you staring at?” My mom’s voice interrupts my violent thoughts, and I redirect my focus back to her.
“I see someone I know. I’ll be right back.”
I don’t wait to see if my parents are annoyed by my abruptness or confused by the sudden hostility in my demeanor. I stride across the restaurant, my eyes trained on the back of dickwad’s head, and slip through the crowd as easily as my body will allow.
It takes no more than a minute for me to arrive at the backs of their chairs, and I have to restrain myself from reaching out and slamming the douchebag’s head on the wooden bar.
“You get off on drugging women, asshole?” I ask, loud enough that the conversation around me dies. Reaching between their bodies, I grab the probably drugged drink from the bar and turn Mitch’s stool with the other. “Here’s your drink, man.” I shove the cocktail up to his mouth, pressing the straw right against his lips.
“What the hell?” Mitch mutters, pushing against the drink from his mouth. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“You. You’re my fucking problem. What did you put in this drink?” I hold it up, shaking it in his face and allowing it to slosh over. “Does your friend know you’re into unconscious girls, or is that a surprise you were hoping to spring on her later?”
“Hey, man.” Mitch’s voice drops to a placating tone. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I didn’t put anything in that drink.”
I don’t pay attention to the people crowding around us or the attention I’ve undoubtedly drawn. “Then fucking drink it.” I hold out the drink again, daring him to take a sip of the laced alcohol.
Mitch’s eyes harden, and I know I’m not wrong in my assumption. “I’m allergic to tequila.”
“I’m sure you are, you prick.” Turning the glass over, I dump the contents of the drink onto his lap, reveling in the shock on his face before it turns to rage.
“You’re fucking dead,” Mitch roars, surging from the stool and lunging forward before someone behind him grabs him, stilling his forward motion. “Get the fuck off of me.” He twists, trying to get the hands on his body to fall off.
“What’s going on here?” a voice behind me asks, and I turn to the speaker, security personnel, with the word stamped across his chest.
“This guy slipped something into this woman’s drink.” I nod my chin in Mitch’s direction and wave my hand toward the silent woman.
“I didn’t do shit,” Mitch yells, still fighting against his restraints.
“Shut the fuck up,” I respond, gripping the glass in my hand and mentally telling myself that throwing it at his face will land me in jail for assault.
“Both of you need to leave,” the guard orders, crossing his arms and appearing larger than he actually is. “You’re causing a disturbance at the bar.”
“Yeah, kick me out but don’t haul his ass to the police for trying to drug a drink. Sounds right,” I scoff, setting the glass down and scowling at the guard. Looking back at Mitch, I point my finger at him, careful not to touch him and give him any opportunity to say I physically assaulted him outside of a spilled drink.
A complete accident, obviously.
“Stay the fuck away from Seraphina. If I see you anywhere near her or hear that you ever approach her again, you’ll regret it.”
Understanding dawns, and he stops fighting against the hands holding him back from me. The anger in his eyes drains, replaced with a smugness that he seems to wear like a second skin. “I should have known this was about Fin. I knew you looked familiar. You’re that dishwasher from Marymount, aren’t you? Having fun with my girlfriend?”
“She’s not your goddamn girlfriend. Stay the fuck away from her.”
Mitch opens his mouth to speak, but the security guard interrupts, shoving me away from the bar. “Out! Both of you out.”
“I’m going,” I mutter, stepping out of his reach. Casting one more look at Mitch, it takes everything in me to walk away and not lunge at the asshole, especially when he winks at me and turns back to his friend. “Are you kicking that douchebag out too?”
“Right now, you’re the one causing a disturbance. Do I need to call the police?” His hand comes down on my shoulder, urging me forward.
“I said I’m fucking going. Get your hands off me.” I shrug him off and walk through the crowd, stopping at my parents’ table.
“I’m heading out.”
“Son, what happened over there?” My dad’s voice is hard, and while I’m sure he saw a security guard escort me out of the crowd by the bar from their table, I have no idea if they saw the entirety of the altercation with Mitch.
“Like I said, I saw someone I knew. Listen, I need to head out; I have the dinner shift tonight and need to grab my work bag and get some things done around my apartment before I go in.” Leaning down, I kiss my mother on the cheek before offering my hand to my dad. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Doro, I’ll be right back.” My dad gets up, fixing his salmon sports coat as he stands. His dark skin contrasts with the bright color, and I mentally cringe at the talk I know is coming.
Releasing a sigh, I walk with my dad to the front of the restaurant and slip out the doors, the eyes of the security guard probably trained on me the entire time I walk through the upscale eatery. It’s not until we’re outside, standing on the cracked sidewalk in front of the restaurant, that my dad speaks.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Clenching my jaw, I take one last look at the glass doors before turning my back to the building. “I saw someone slip something into a woman’s drink. No one did shit, or maybe they didn’t notice, but I did. So I stopped it. The asshole should be escorted out in cuffs, but the security guard seemed more concerned with me leaving.”
My dad’s face darkens as I speak, his lips turning down in a frown. “Is this the gentleman you said you knew?” I nod, looking away. “Who is he?”
Working my jaw, I bite out my answer, “Seraphina’s ex.”
“Dammit, Lincoln,” he scolds, voice incredulous. “Why do all roads lead back to Seraphina?”
“This had nothing to fucking do with her. Do you expect me to let a girl be drugged when I can fucking stop it?”
“Watch your goddamn mouth, Lincoln Simmons. You’re getting a little too comfortable throwing this profanity around with no consideration. You think your mother missed you getting thrown out of a restaurant she and the ladies at the club come to weekly? There were better ways to handle this than throwing a drink at someone and getting yourself forcibly removed.”
“It wasn’t forcibly,” I mutter, sounding like a scolded child.
Shaking his head, my dad runs a hand over his mouth, his annoyance on full display. “You’re twenty-seven years old, Lincoln. You know better than to let your temper get the better of you. Now, go home and cool down before you go to work. You’re no use to anyone when you’re like this, least of all Diana.”
“I know, alright?” I respond as I run a hand over my face and double down on my actions. “I don’t regret it, not for a second.”
Shaking his head, my dad walks around me and walks toward the door. “Just go, Lincoln.”