37. Lincoln
37
Lincoln
I don’t pay attention to the speed limit.
I pay attention to other cars only so I don’t crash into them.
I have one singular focus on my mind: Seraphina Rose Gregori.
When I left her in her bed this morning to run home and change before meeting my parents, she let me know she had to work at the library again today. At the time, I nodded at her, warning her that if anyone approached her—Mitch, Chris, or otherwise—and made her feel uncomfortable, she was to call me immediately.
But I know where Mitch is, sitting cozy in a bar like a goddamn predator. I don’t doubt that the guy holding him back was probably Chris or some other asshole unconcerned about the safety and consent of their sexual partners. If I did anything today, it was to let every woman in that bar know that Mitch was a scumbag, but I know that something like humiliation won’t deter a guy like Mitch.
It spurs them on.
That knowledge is what has me pushing one hundred as I fly down the parkway to exit 110 in a rush to get to my little thorn and assure myself that she’s okay. I even called out of work, something I rarely do since it leaves the team shorthanded.
I feel like a dick, but my need to assure myself that Seraphina is safe and whole is more important.
The exit looms in front of me, and since I’m in the left lane, I Jersey-slide across traffic and cut to the exit ramp, acting like the dickhead drivers I hate. As soon as I pass through the tolls, I’m turning onto the road that will lead me directly to Marymount.
The ten-mile distance takes five minutes, and before I know it, I’m shifting into park and unfolding myself from the car. There’s a vague sense of déjà vu, as there continually seems to be with Seraphina, as images from the night I raced over here after she ran into Chris bombard my mind.
Fuck these guys and their continual need to torment my cierń and other women.
I lock my car and walk inside, resisting every instinct I have to run through the doors of the library and charge through the stacks of books until I find her. Fate, God, Allah, or whatever other entity people worship must be on my side, though, because as soon as I walk in, Seraphina is there, placing books on the lobby’s front desk, her back toward me.
“Thank fuck,” I mutter, striding over to her and grabbing her from behind and molding her petite body to mine.
She stiffens at first, turning until she pauses with her head lowered toward my arm. Her eyes catch on the now-familiar coil of roses on my forearm, and she relaxes against me. “Lincoln? What are you doing here?”
I don’t respond at first, leaning down to breathe in her light scent and calm my anger. My silence must unnerve her because she twists in my hold, turning to face me while my arms still circle her waist. “Lincoln?” My name is a question on her lips, and I don’t resist tasting it.
Lowering my head, I capture her lips in a kiss that’s light but still inappropriate for the entrance of the library. I don’t let our location deter me, and I apply more pressure, coaxing her mouth open until I slip my tongue inside, licking into her mouth and tasting the mint she must have eaten. Releasing my hold on her waist, I bring my hands to her face, cradling her jaw and tilting her head so I can dive deeper, inhale her goddamn breath, and convince myself that she breathes for me, exists with me.
A throat clearing behind us has me reluctantly releasing her lips, though my hands stay on her face.
“Sera, maybe not by the main entrance?” Ms. Frizzle’s now-familiar voice calls from behind me, and I watch the red spots bloom on Seraphina’s cheeks.
Stepping back, my hands fall from her skin, and I flex my fingers, wishing I could haul her back into my arms and just hold her for another minute.
“I’m so sorry, May. I—”
“It’s fine, dear. But why don’t you and your gentleman take your conversation somewhere else? And remember, no food or drinks in the archive room.” I haven’t removed my gaze from Seraphina’s, but I smirk at the sole source of concern Ms. Frizzle has: that we’ll ruin a book with a water bottle and not that I’m seconds away from carrying Seraphina to the nearest flat surface and sinking into her until I can assuage the annoyance coursing through me.
“Of course. Lincoln, you can follow me into the employee break room. Is that okay, May?”
“Yes, yes. Fine.” Her voice is distant, as though she’s walking away. I don’t look over my shoulder to check her location, but I watch Seraphina watch her, her eyes seemingly following Ms. Frizzle’s form as she leaves the vestibule. As soon as Seraphina’s shoulders drop, I know her boss is out of sight.
“Come on.” She tilts her head, silently motioning me to follow her. I step back, giving her space to walk around me and allow her to lead me out of the library and toward the back hallway. Seraphina may think she’s leading me and that I’m following her like a meek sheep, but I know something—this hallway leads to the stairwell to the third floor, where the private tutoring rooms are.
Just as Seraphina passes the door leading to the stairs, I grab her arm, halting her progress. She looks back, eyebrows furrowed and a look of confusion on her face.
“Trust me?” I whisper, keeping my voice low in case anyone walks past.
“Yes.” Her answer is instant, not a moment of hesitation in her response.
Tugging on her arm, I pull her into my body. Leaning down, I breathe in her scent again, holding the apple blossom and lemon scent in my lungs until self-preservation forces me to exhale. “Good,” I whisper into her ear before capturing her earlobe between my teeth and biting down lightly. Releasing her flesh, I straighten and look down. “Follow me, cierń.”
I don’t say anything else as I turn and push open the steel door beside us. My steps are slow and measured as we ascend the stairs, cognizant that Seraphina’s legs are half the size of mine. While she may speed walk, there’s no way I’m forcing her to run up three flights of stairs.
If I didn’t think she’d freak out on me, I’d grab her and toss her over my shoulder, but something tells me that my little thorn would rather crawl on hot stones than let one of her coworkers see her in that position.
A shame, really, because I’d like nothing more than to handle Seraphina and let everyone in this building know she’s mine.
My anxiety doesn’t abate as we emerge from the top floor’s door, nor does it recede as we wind through the rows of empty workstations and encyclopedias they keep in this part of the library. It’s only when I pull her through an empty tutoring space tucked into the corner and shut and lock the door behind us that I feel remotely at ease.
I don’t give Seraphina a moment to ask a question. I’m on her as soon as that lock is turned. Dropping her arm, I grip her waist and pull her up, pinning her against the heavy wooden door and my body. My mouth is on her just as quickly, diving down to take her lips in a kiss that conveys all the frustration and anxiety that I’ve felt in the last two hours. She meets my aggression with a sweet sigh, one that I swallow as it bleeds into a moan on my tongue. I fuck her mouth, moving my tongue against hers as I stake my claim, owning her in the small study room the same way I want to do in public.
Her arms come around my neck, dragging me impossibly closer, and I shift my hips against her center, letting her feel how hard I am through the unfortunate amount of clothes between us. Another moan slips out of her, and I use the opportunity to trail kisses down her jaw and neck, shifting her higher so that her head is above me and her cunt rests against my upper abdomen.
The move causes her to drop her head back, letting her back arch as she grinds against my stomach in a way that makes me wish we were naked and truly in private rather than in a secluded section of the library.
“Lincoln,” she breathes out, her voice barely audible against the rushing of blood in my ears. “Wh-what’s wrong—oh my god,” she stutters as I latch onto her pulse point and suck hard, hoping to leave a mark, a visual representation that this tiny little siren is mine. “Please.” She moans, pelvis pressing forward and back arched in an effort to feel more, take more of me… from me.
“Fuck, cierń.” I lick against her collarbone, sucking and biting and leaving so many goddamn marks against her olive flesh that she’s going to look like she was attacked by a vampire. “I fucking need you, Seraphina. Tell me this is okay.”
She doesn’t respond but grabs at my head, pulling me up and leaning down to attack my lips. It’s fucking filthy as she grinds against me, moving her hips in time with our tongues.
Ripping my mouth away, I pant against her shoulder. “Words, cierń. I need words.”
“Yes, Lincoln. Whatever your question is, yes.”
Her consent is all I need to turn from the door and set her down on the wooden table in the center of the room. Her legs are locked over my hips, and I grab her thighs, easing her hold as I pull over a chair and sit down in front of her. I didn’t get a good look at Seraphina’s outfit when I arrived at the library, but now I soak it in.
One thing I’ve noticed about Seraphina, both four and a half years ago and now, is that she rarely moves outside of a neutral color palette unless it’s to wear red. Her tan-and-cream floral skirt reminds me of something Stevie Nicks would have worn in the early seventies, and the cream tank top she’s wearing is conservative yet sexy since it shows off the small swells of her breasts and highlights her collarbone. Around her ankles are strappy-heeled sandals, ones that put her almost to the average human adult height but still fall short by about two inches. Glasses frame her face, an accessory I’ve never seen her wear, with a chain secured to the arms like a wet dream from the 1950s.
“You look like a sexy librarian, cierń. Do you even need glasses?” I reach up to finger the gold links. “I’ve never seen these on you.”
She swallows as my finger flicks against her skin and the metal. “Just for distance, but I had a headache today and decided to wear them.”
“Hmm.” I play with the links, rubbing against them as I consider her words. “I’ve had a lot of fantasies about you over the years, cierń. But none of them have ever done this visual justice—you, dressed like a little nerd, soaking wet under your long skirt.” My hands work their way up her calves as I speak, stopping just below her knees. “I want to tear this goddamn fabric from your body and slip into your cunt, cierń. What do you think your little librarians would say about that?
“Does it turn you on knowing that at any minute, someone could walk by and see me buried inside you, worshipping your body like you deserve? Because me? It makes me hard as fuck knowing that people will know you’re mine. I want you to smell like me, have my cum dripping all over your thighs, and brand you with a goddamn poker.”
“Lincoln,” she murmurs, body writhing on the table.
“It does, doesn’t it? I bet your cunt is soaked beneath this little prim skirt, isn’t it? Tell me, cierń, are you as needy for me as I am for you?”
“I—”
“You are,” I cut her off, moving my hands higher on her legs, grabbing the outside of her thighs. “You’re soaked for me. I can fucking smell it. Tell me, cierń, if I flip this little skirt up, will your pussy be as wet for me as I think?”
She nods against the wooden table, lifting her hips in the air in a silent offering. This time, I don’t force her to say the words. My hands eat up the distance to her panties, tugging down on the fabric until it slides against her skin and pools at her ankles. Glancing down, I look at the flimsy red fabric, a large wet spot in the center of the lace. “Fucking soaked,” I murmur, lifting each foot to untangle the straps from her limbs.
Once the fabric is freed, I bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply. “Delicious, cierń.” I keep my eyes on Seraphina as I slip the lace into my pocket, making sure to bury it deep in my jeans so that there’s no risk of the damp panties falling onto the library’s floor.
Her pussy now bare beneath the flimsy skirt, I push at the fabric covering her from me, moving it up until it’s pooled at her waist, and her pretty little cunt is on full display.
I groan at the sight—the thin strip of hair that appears perfectly aligned with the center of her pussy, the lips that hide her wetness, and the little clit that seems to bring her the most insane amount of pressure.
I spread my hands against her thighs, moving them until they wrap around the underside of her legs and pull her toward me, positioning her at the edge of the table with her pussy pointed upward. “I was going to sink into you, fuck you against this table until my cum was dripping from your cunt, but this pussy is too fucking tempting.” I bend down, running my nose against her slit and breathing her in.
Repositioning myself, my tongue darts out, licking the same path my nose just traveled, and I gather the wetness on my tongue and swallow, moaning at the taste. Seraphina’s an aphrodisiac, a heady mix of desire and need, and I don’t stop myself from taking another taste, grabbing onto her hips to pull her tighter against my mouth.
She moans as I lick into her, long, pressured flicks of my tongue that are meant to tease rather than get her off, and I feel like a fucking king as she pumps her hips into my face, seeking more pressure from me as I eat her cunt.
“Lincoln, more,” she pleads, hands falling to my hair to push my face in farther. “Please.”
I shake my head between her thighs, not letting up my ministrations, but not giving into her pleas either. I hum against her flesh, deliberately neglecting her sensitive clit as my tongue works her over.
“Lincoln,” she groans out, frustration bleeding into her voice. “More.”
I laugh at her demands and switch from licks to a hard bite against her lips. Seraphina yelps, but I know the pain is temporary, quickly transforming into pleasure as she tugs at my head. I soothe the sting, finally drawing the bundle of nerves into my mouth and sucking away the pain from my bite.
“Yes, god. Lincoln, yes,” Seraphina mutters. I lift my eyes, keeping my mouth on her clit, and see her twist her head back and forth, the prettiest fucking blush working over her features as I eat her pussy. If I thought Seraphina would be shy or timid during sex, I would have been so fucking wrong.
Seraphina is loud, vocal, and needy. She asks for what she wants and demands attention. Her normal demeanor may be quiet, observant, and reflective. But during sex or when she’s seeking her own pleasure? She’s wild, beautiful mayhem and controlled chaos. It’s a delicious oxymoron of prim and unhinged, reserved and eager.
Releasing her clit, I straighten in my seat and reach down to undo the button and zipper on my jeans. The sound of the teeth pulling has Seraphina looking up, staring at me as I lower the tab. I watch her lick her lips as I pull on my briefs, shifting the fabric until my cock is freed and standing between us.
Leaning back, I let my hand drag over my cock, pumping myself as I stare at her and the view she’s offering me. My hand is no substitute for hers, or her mouth, or god, her cunt, but the more I pump my dick, the more glazed her eyes get, and I won’t lie and say I don’t love how she watches me.
“You gonna come over here, cierń?” I keep my hand moving, widening my legs to give her a better view. “Or are you going to stare at me while I jerk myself off to your pretty wet cunt.”
“I—”
“Come here, cierń. Now,” I cut her off, ordering her to my lap. I watch as she fully sits up, skirt bunched at her hips and straps of her tank top falling over her shoulders. She’s stunning in her disheveled state, a goddess as she braces her hands on the wood and pushes her body forward. She shimmies toward me, moving slowly as she inches across the table.
Impatience takes over, and I release my cock, grabbing her calves and pulling her the rest of the way until her body falls off the table, and I catch her in my lap.
“Too fucking slow, cierń. Now ride my cock and show me who owns you.” My words are possessive, a testament to how crazy I am for the woman in front of me. But what I don’t say is that she owns me too. Every damn piece of me, every breath, every beat of my heart is hers.
Seraphina repositions herself, shifting so that her knees fall to the sides of my thighs and her cunt hovers right above me. Anyone walking by will know exactly what we’re doing in this tiny little study office, if not only by the visual through the thick glass, then by the sounds coming from our mouths and skin.
My eyes are between Seraphina’s legs as she lowers her body, sinking down slowly until, inch by inch, my cock disappears inside of her. It’s torture and ecstasy letting her drop down in increments, and I breathe in a ragged breath once she’s fully seated. I’m a tall man, but not a big man; my cock is proportionate to my size and isn’t a victim of elephantiasis. But what it is is curved, and I know, based on the pressure on my head and the way Seraphina’s eyes are closed and her head is thrown back, that I’m hitting the right spot as she grinds her body back and forth against me.
My hands move from her hips, up her rib cage, until they’re cupping her little tits over her shirt. Tugging on the fabric, I lower the neckline of her cream top to below her bra, not giving a damn if I stretch the material out or ruin the shirt. If I have to, I’ll buy her another.
I pull her bra cups down, revealing her nipples and putting her perky tits on display. She looks indecent, sliding on my cock with her clothes pulled in every direction. “Goddamn, baby. You feel incredible.” I’ve never been bare in a woman before, always careful to wrap my shit up before sex to avoid any unwanted outcomes. But with Seraphina, there’s nothing between us, and I can feel every squeeze of her pussy, every contraction, as she grinds faster against me, pushing her hips up to rub her clit against my groin. “How’s it feel, cierń?”
“Mmmhmph,” she murmurs, head still thrown back as she works herself on me. I lean forward, grabbing a nipple with my teeth and biting down gently, just enough to get her attention. “Oh my god.” Sera moans, looking down at where my mouth plays with her breasts. Her hands move from my shoulders to the back of my head, holding me to her chest as though I’m an idiot and would try to move away from her.
With my eyes pinned to her face, I pull her nipple into my mouth, latching on and sucking hard. The pressure spurs her, and she moves faster, gyrating her hips to the rhythm of my flicks and bites.
“Lincoln, I’m coming,” she whispers, nearly silently, as her body convulses on top of mine, pussy spasming as her orgasm floods her system. Moving my hands from her tits, I pin her hips down and draw her chest against mine, hugging her in place.
“That’s right, cierń. Come on my cock, fucking milk it until my cum is spilling from inside you.” I punctuate my words with hard thrusts from beneath her, bracing my feet on the floor for leverage. My pelvis hits her clit each time I move, and I don’t miss how she trembles in my arms, oversensitive from her orgasm while I work her body chasing mine.
“Lincoln, it’s too much.” She groans, though her hips trace figure eights over my lap, belying her words. “Please.”
“Take it, Seraphina,” I order, one final command until I’m coming inside her, painting her pussy with my cum. “Fuck, baby.” I hold her down, feeling her pussy clench around me in a second orgasm triggered by mine.
I hold her to me, our breaths mingling in the sex-tainted air of the room. Seraphina’s body trembles, small, minute shivers that, had she not been pinned to my body, I probably wouldn’t notice.
Lifting my hands, I gather her hair, tilting her head back until her glazed eyes meet mine. “I love you, Seraphina. I really fucking do.”
“I know,” the minx responds. I roll my eyes at her retort but don’t press her to say anything before I continue.
“I saw Mitch at brunch.” Seraphina’s body stops trembling at my words, the blissed-out state she was in receding just as quickly as it arrived. “He was there with some guy, and I watched him slip something into a woman’s drink. I confronted him, and the asshole bouncer kicked me out and that douchebag stayed.”
“You spoke to him?”
“Yes, I spoke to him.”
She closes her eyes, cutting my vision of her expressive stare. I can still tell what she’s thinking without it, but her dark-brown irises hold a lot of hints, and I resent her shutting me out. I sigh as she tries to lean back. I drop my hands, giving her the space she seems to need and sigh. “I told him that if he ever spoke to you again, I’d kill him. I should have broken his jaw in the middle of that god-awful restaurant, but I didn’t, and that will be one of the biggest regrets of my life, right behind letting him manipulate you.”
“You didn’t let him manipulate me, Lincoln. I did. What happened to me in high school is about what I allowed by stupidity, a hero complex, and an inability to confide in people. It didn’t have anything to do with you.”
“But I should have known, cierń. I should have fucking guessed that you wouldn’t go back to that asshole because you were insecure. I knew you, Seraphina. I know you have thorns and a bite to you. I should have fucking known and said something, done something, but I didn’t. I let you go without a fight.”
“Lincoln,” she whispers, the tension from her body falling away as she sags against me, pressing our chests together once again. “You couldn’t have done anything to change what happened.”
“I could have helped you save yourself.”
Her head shakes against my shoulder, her long brown hair swishing as she moves, but she doesn’t contradict me or say anything else. There’s a strength in asking for help, for not assuming all responsibility for being your own savior. Seraphina didn’t know how to ask for it when we first met, but she better know that anything she faces now, it’s not alone. It’s with me next to her, in front of her, behind her, or wherever the fuck she’ll allow me to be, as long as it’s with her.