Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
Erika
L incoln had an irresistible mix of charm and vulnerability, even if he didn’t realize it. Over the past three days, we’d grown closer, sharing lunches, texts, phone calls—everything but a bed. The tension between us was almost unbearable, a taut string ready to snap.
On Wednesday night, he came over, but something seemed off. As we kissed on the couch, I could sense his distraction. I smoothed his blond hair from his forehead, trying to ground him.
“What’s the matter?” I muttered against his lips.
“Nothing,” he replied, though I could tell he was lying.
“Baby, your mind is somewhere else. What is it?”
He hesitated, then finally admitted, “My parents are acting strange. I stopped by to say hello, and it felt like they were hiding something from me, like when I was a kid, and they kept secrets. I’m worried.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to get upset over,” I tried to reassure him.
“Do you?” he asked with a hint of mockery. “You don’t know them like I do.”
“But eventually, I will—unless you keep acting like an ass.”
In a flash, he flipped me, pinning me beneath him on the couch. His hands planted firmly on either side of my head, he hovered over me, intense and conflicted. I reached up, running my fingers over the light scruff on his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch.
“It’s something,” he murmured, the worry still evident in his voice. “The last time they acted like this was when Michael disappeared. Talon was the only one who didn’t know, and it was agony when they finally told him.”
Trying to distract him, I whispered, “Kiss me and stop worrying.”
“I’d rather do something else. I can’t wait any longer.”
Before I could process his words, Lincoln backed away, leaving me momentarily confused until he scooped me up off the couch and carried me to my bedroom.
“We’re really doing this?” I asked, still in disbelief.
He chuckled, a low, husky sound. “You seem surprised.”
“We’ve been playing this game for three weeks. I thought it would never happen.”
Lincoln placed me gently by the bed, then reached down to pull back the peach comforter. I’d changed into sweatpants and a bright yellow t-shirt before he arrived, and he wasted no time tugging my shirt over my head, tossing it aside.
“I love your breasts. You only gave me a peek on Sunday, but now I plan to take my time.”
He knelt on the floor, cupping my breasts in his hands, his mouth alternating between my nipples before he buried his face between them, inhaling deeply.
“You smell so good. What is that scent?”
“It’s probably my skin cream and perfume,” I replied, breathless.
His kisses trailed down my belly, his tongue swirling in my navel. I dug my fingers into his scalp, a moan escaping my lips as he grasped the drawstring of my sweatpants with his teeth, tugging it loose. In a swift movement, both my sweatpants and panties were at my ankles, and Lincoln’s tongue was pressed against my clit.
“Oh God,” I moaned as he expertly lapped at me.
“Christ, you taste like cotton candy,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot.
“You must be out of your mind,” I gasped.
“I know what I like, and it’s you.”
My legs wobbled, turning to rubber as Lincoln’s grip tightened on the backs of my thighs to keep me steady.
“Maybe we’d be better off doing this in bed,” he suggested, glancing up at me.
“I think that’s best,” I panted, barely holding myself together.
Lincoln stood, guiding me backward toward the bed so I wouldn’t trip over the clothes pooled at my feet, pressing his lips tenderly against the top of my head. He was still dressed in his thick wool sweater and blue jeans, and I found myself impatient to see him without them. Tugging at his sleeve, I silently urged him to undress.
He wasted no time, his mouth finding my clit with a fervent intensity that made me cry out. My hips bucked involuntarily as his tongue worked in wicked, skilled strokes.
“Patience,” he said lightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Let me get you settled first.”
With a soft plop, I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart racing as he knelt to remove the last remnants of my clothing, tossing them onto the pile with my discarded t-shirt. When he stood, he peeled off his thick brown wool sweater, revealing a lean, muscular torso that made my breath catch. His abs were perfectly defined, each line and contour a testament to his strength. I reached out, fingers aching to trace the ridges of his body.
Next, he unbuttoned his jeans, slipping them off with a casual ease that belied the tension thrumming between us. My eyes were riveted to the sight of his cock pressing against his black boxers, the fabric straining to contain him.
Lincoln didn’t rush. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, slowly pushing them down, revealing inch by inch of his hard, thick shaft. When the head of his penis appeared, a large, deep shade of purple, I sucked in a breath. The rest of his length followed, long and thick, his swollen testicles completing the tantalizing reveal.
“You like?” he asked with a smirk, clearly amused by my reaction.
“You’re very big,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
“But I’ll be gentle,” he promised, his tone softening. “I’ll never hurt you, Erika.”
There was something in his voice, a sincerity that went beyond the physical. He wasn’t just talking about sex, and that realization made my heart ache with something dangerously close to hope.
He climbed onto the bed, settling between my legs once more. His mouth found my clit again, sucking gently as his thumb slid into my slick, waiting heat. He moved with a confidence that spoke of experience, but there was an intimacy here that I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just fucking me; he was making love to me in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
“Oh God,” I gasped, my body already teetering on the edge. His thumb worked inside me as his tongue danced over my clit, each movement precise and devastatingly effective. My fists curled into the sheets, pulling them tight as my first orgasm crashed over me, leaving me trembling and breathless.
I squeezed my eyes shut, riding out the storm of ecstasy. When I finally opened them, Lincoln was sitting back on his haunches, watching me with those intense ice-blue eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“Smug bastard,” I breathed out, trying to regain my composure.
“It’s a treat to see you come,” he said, his voice warm with affection. “This was well worth the wait.”
“I don’t think so,” I mumbled, still reeling from the intensity of it all.
“Wait until I’m inside you,” he teased, his voice a low growl that sent another shiver through me.
I wrapped my arms around my body, shivering with anticipation. “I have condoms in my drawer,” I said, nodding toward the nightstand.
“Condoms? Why?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I sat up, confused by his question. “Because you need to wear one.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified, his tone more serious. “I mean, why do you have condoms? Did you buy them recently?”
I met his gaze, unflinching. “I like sex, and I want to be safe. There were men before you.”
Lincoln’s expression softened as he reached over and yanked open the drawer, brushing his shoulder against mine. “But there won’t be any others after me. This is it.”
“You’re so sure this will work out?” I asked, my voice trembling with uncertainty.
“Shut up, Erika,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Just close your pretty mouth and let me make you come again.”
I didn’t protest, sinking back onto the bed as I watched him tear open the condom wrapper. He rolled the latex over himself, the tight fit making him frown slightly, but he didn’t let it deter him. He fisted his cock, stroking it slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he prepared himself. My eyes were glued to the sight of him, the sheer size of him sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through me.
He was the biggest I’d ever had, and I couldn’t wait to feel him inside me.
“I’ll be gentle,” he reassured, his voice a soothing balm against the tension coiled within me.
My eyes locked onto his, and I nodded, a silent surrender. Lincoln lowered himself onto me, his body a warm, solid presence that made my heart race. His lips found mine in a kiss that was all-consuming, his tongue darting in and out of my mouth, igniting a fire in my veins. My hands roamed his back, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, my nails leaving faint trails over his skin as I tried to anchor myself to the moment.
He moved from my lips to my throat, sucking gently on my earlobes, sending shivers down my spine. His hands cupped my breasts, fingers teasing my nipples until I gasped, arching into his touch. Every sensation was magnified, every touch electric.
Lincoln’s eyes met mine as he positioned himself at my entrance. I bit my lip, bracing for the familiar burn that often accompanied this moment, but it never came. Instead, there was only a gentle pressure as he eased into me, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside.
“Are you good?” he asked, his voice husky with concern as he stilled, giving me a moment to adjust.
“I feel so full,” I whispered, marveling at the sensation of being completely connected to him.
“You’ll get used to it,” he promised, his lips brushing against my ear. “I plan to be inside you as much as I can.”
“Do I get any say?” I teased, though the breathlessness in my voice betrayed my eagerness.
His lips curved into a wicked grin. “By the time we’re done, you’ll be begging for it.”
With that, he braced his arms on either side of me and began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. I dug my nails into his forearms, meeting each of his thrusts with a hunger that surprised even me. Lincoln closed his eyes, whispering my name like a prayer, and the sound of it only fueled the fire building inside me.
I’d been with other men before, but none of them had moved me like this. Lincoln’s technique was flawless, the result of experience, but there was something more—something raw and intimate that made this more than just sex.
My body felt like it was teetering on the edge, a hot coal ready to burst into flame with just one more stroke. Sweat slicked our bodies as we moved together, a fine mist that made our skin slide against each other. Desperate for more, I gripped his ass, trying to spur him to a faster pace, but he refused, maintaining the same slow, torturous rhythm that had me unraveling at the seams.
Before I could process it, the tension snapped, and I was falling, plunging headfirst into a sea of pleasure that had me crying out his name. My orgasm washed over me, wave after wave of bliss that left me trembling beneath him.
Lincoln didn’t stop. He kept moving, his pace steady as he pushed me toward another peak. I barely had time to catch my breath before the second orgasm hit, stronger than the first, pulling a desperate moan from my lips. Lincoln followed me over the edge, his body tensing as he came, his groan low and deep as he spilled into the condom.
He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting, our bodies slick with sweat. His lips found the underside of my chin, pressing a gentle kiss there as we both came down from the high.
“Well worth the wait,” I murmured, not even sure if I had spoken aloud.
“I told you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin, a satisfied smile on his lips.
After our first night together, Lincoln and I were insatiable. I’d never been this connected to someone before, and Lincoln, new to navigating a serious relationship, was clearly trying to find his footing. What I couldn’t bring myself to admit was that I was waiting for the inevitable crash and burn.
“Do you really have to go?” Lincoln’s voice was laced with frustration as he watched me from the bed.
I rolled my eyes, slipping into my panties. “Lincoln, you know I do. It’s an engagement party.”
“For an engagement that happened months ago,” he grumbled, his tone dark.
I sighed, tugging on my bra. “Morgan’s parents are old, and she wanted them to be there. They won’t travel in the winter. Stop being so grouchy.”
“Why can’t I come with you?” he asked, his voice softening, though the tension in his eyes remained.
“You look too much like Michael,” I replied, fastening the clasp. “It’ll distract her, and I can’t do that to her on her big day.”
“Serves her right,” he muttered under his breath.
I spun around, fire igniting in my chest. “Don’t you dare say that about her. If you want to be part of my life, you need to accept Morgan. She’s my best friend.”
Lincoln’s gaze dropped to the comforter, his fingers tracing the fabric. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it took me twenty-seven years to find you, and now that I have, I don’t want to let you go.”
I softened, but I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “We need to maintain our own identities, Lincoln. I don’t want us to morph into some weird Lincoln-Erika hybrid.”
“Why not?” he quipped, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I think it’s a great idea.”
I laughed despite myself, shaking my head as I grabbed my jeans. “I have to go. I need to shower and get dressed before I head to Morgan’s apartment.”
“Have fun,” Lincoln growled, still not pleased but relenting.
I sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in to kiss him. When he didn’t respond, I pressed harder, determined to break through his stubborn mood. Finally, he pulled me onto his lap, his hands firm on my hips as he deepened the kiss.
“Don’t get me started,” I warned, feeling the heat between us flare up again.
“I’m already started,” he murmured against my lips, his grip tightening on me.
I could feel his erection pressing against me, a reminder of how easily he could pull me back in. But I knew I had to go, and I tried to pull away, though he held me in place, his eyes dark with desire.
“Lincoln,” I cautioned, my tone a mix of need and restraint.
He sighed, releasing his hold just enough for me to slip off his lap. “All right, I’ll let you go, but I don’t have to like it.”
“You have no choice right now,” I said, standing up and smoothing down my clothes. “I don’t shirk my responsibilities. As maid of honor, it’s my job to keep the bride calm. Now, let me go.”
“Promise me something,” he said, his voice low.
“What?”
“Come over after you’re done.”
I hesitated, glancing at the clock. “Don’t you have a couple of showings today?”
“And a negotiation, but it’s not a problem. I’ll be back before you get here.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “My superstar agent.”
Lincoln finally let me go, and I finished getting dressed, pulling on my rumpled jeans and black sweater from the floor.
“We need to be better about undressing,” I remarked, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in my clothes.
“Does it really matter if your clothes are a little wrinkled?” He leaned back on his elbows, watching me. “If it bothers you, bring some stuff over. Hell, move in with me.”
A lump formed in my throat at his casual suggestion. We’d only been officially together for just over a week, and he was already talking about living together.
“Too early,” I said, shaking my head, though my voice wavered slightly.
“Erika, I was joking,” he said quickly, though his eyes held a hint of something deeper. “I know it’s too early. I just wanted to see your face.”
“Jerk,” I muttered, pulling my long blonde hair out of my sweater collar. I leaned in for a quick peck, but Lincoln wasn’t having it. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me back for a deeper kiss.
“That’s not going to keep me satisfied for the day,” he warned, his voice a playful growl.
“It’ll have to do,” I teased, finally managing to pull away. “Now stop being a baby and get up. You have to leave for your showing in an hour.”
“I can be quick,” he called after me, his tone both a promise and a threat.
I paused at the doorway, smirking over my shoulder. “I know.”
“Just for that, I won’t be tonight,” Lincoln shouted as I headed down the hallway, his voice following me like a promise.
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing through the apartment. Lincoln always knew how to keep things interesting, and despite my reservations, I couldn’t wait to see where this thing between us would go.
As I rummaged through Morgan’s closet, my fingers brushed against the soft fabric of her dresses. “What are you wearing tonight?” I called out.
Morgan, busy applying lotion to her legs, glanced over her shoulder. “The emerald green one,” she replied with a hint of excitement.
I pulled the dress from its hanger, holding it up to the light. “This is beautiful,” I admired, running my hand along the delicate fabric.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling as she continued her routine. “It’s simple and short.”
I turned the dress around, taking in the spaghetti straps and the daring neckline. “But bold enough to make a statement,” I noted with a grin. “I love the neckline—whoa, this is a bit risqué.”
The neckline plunged daringly, almost reaching the middle of Morgan’s stomach, revealing plenty of skin.
“I’m not giving anyone a show,” she defended quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Slade likes when I show a little cleavage.”
“A little?” I arched an eyebrow, laughing softly. “This is crazy, but you have the perfect body for it.”
Morgan’s expression softened as she looked at me. “Thank you. You’re always so complimentary. I wanted to thank you for all your support over the past few months. I never imagined getting engaged could be such a headache.”
“No thanks needed,” I assured her, hanging the dress back up carefully. “But I did want to ask you something.”
“Ask away,” she said, her tone light, though her eyes were cautious.
“This is about Michael Elliott.”
Morgan’s movements stilled. The mention of his name brought a shadow to her face. “Why are you bringing him up after all this time? He disappeared, end of story.” Her voice wavered, and I saw tears well in her eyes.
“Because you seemed pretty broken up about his disappearance,” I pressed gently. “You only worked for him for a few weeks.”
Morgan’s gaze dropped, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her robe. “He was a friend, not just my boss.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching her closely. “I have a feeling he was more than a friend.”
Her head snapped up, and she met my gaze with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Because I know you,” I said softly. “You don’t usually get so emotional about things.”
Morgan hesitated, then sighed heavily. “I had an affection for him.”
She knew that I wouldn’t let her off with a simple answer. I suspected there was more to her relationship than just a boss to his employee or a friend to friend. She’d been hiding something from me for months and now that I was with Lincoln, I wanted the truth. Michael was his brother after all.
“Did you sleep with him?” I asked bluntly, unwilling to let her off the hook.
Her eyes flashed with irritation. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? Is it always about sex with you?”
“Did you?” I pressed, not backing down.
She exhaled slowly, looking away. “We had sex,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not proud of it.”
I sat down on the bed beside her, my heart sinking. “And I’m just hearing about this now? How long did it go on?”
“Almost immediately after I started working for him,” Morgan confessed, still avoiding my gaze. “He was very different from Slade.”
“So, you were with both of them at the same time?” I asked, surprised. “You weren’t so bold in college.”
Morgan’s face crumpled slightly, and she buried it in her hands. “It was wrong, and I feel ashamed of what I did.”
“Does Slade know?” I asked, my voice hushed, understanding the gravity of her secret.
Morgan’s head shot up, eyes wide. “Are you insane? I would never tell him about Michael. He would flip out. We had nothing exclusive at the time. I couldn’t commit to either of them.”
“I’m surprised you kept this dirty little secret to yourself,” I remarked, still processing everything.
“I didn’t want to rehash it,” Morgan said, her voice trembling. “It hurt when Michael disappeared. They never found his body. And I was falling in love with him which made it worse.”
My best friend was telling me something I never would’ve expected. She was in love with two men. I wondered who she would’ve chosen if Michael hadn’t disappeared. Would she be engaged to Slade now?
I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what I had to tell her. “I have something to tell you.”
Morgan looked at me, her eyes searching mine. “I’m not sure I want to hear it.”
“I’ve been seeing someone,” I admitted, my heart pounding.
Her eyes narrowed as she processed my words. “And this is the first I’m hearing of it?”
“Don’t use my line,” I said with a small smile. “He’s wonderful.”
“Are you bringing him today?” she asked, a hint of hope in her voice.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I replied, shaking my head.
“Why? Is he a freak? Does he have a disfigurement?” she asked, half-joking.
I met her gaze steadily. “He’s an Elliott.”
Morgan’s mouth dropped open in shock. “An Elliott?”
“Lincoln,” I clarified, my voice barely audible. “I met him at a club. He looked so familiar to me.”
Morgan’s face drained of color. “Why?”
“He looks very much like Michael.”
“What the fuck?” Morgan whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I can’t have him at my party. He’d be too much of a distraction.”
“I thought so,” I said, nodding. “I don’t want to upset you.”
“Are you going to tell me about him?” she asked, her voice shaky. “How much does he look like Michael?”
I sighed, pushing my hair back. “I think we should shelve this conversation until after your party. Maybe we can have drinks this week, if Slade ever lets you go.”
Morgan bristled at my words. “He doesn’t control me. He just likes to spend time with me.”
“And dominate your time,” I added, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised he hasn’t convinced you to elope.”
“He’s mentioned it a time or two,” she admitted, her tone conflicted.
“Please don’t do that!” I said, grabbing her hand. “I want to be a maid of honor.”
Morgan smiled weakly. “I have no intention of eloping. I won’t take my parents walking me down the aisle away from them. I’m hopeful that my child will see its grandparents.”
“Do you have plans to get pregnant after the wedding?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Not immediately, but I won’t wait too long,” she said, her voice softening.
“I’d love a little one to spoil,” I said, my tone lightening.
Morgan laughed, rolling her eyes. “Since when do you like kids?”
“I love them as long as they go home to someone else’s house at night,” I quipped.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head. “You never want kids?”
A few years ago I would never entertain the idea of having children after my own childhood, but Lincoln made me want more.
“I do, but not until I’m about thirty-five,” I admitted with a shrug. “And of course, I would need a nanny.”
Morgan smirked. “What would be the fun in that?”
“It wouldn’t be fun waking up in the middle of the night,” I countered.
“But it would be a better bonding experience,” she argued.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I have years before it happens anyway.”
“What the fuck do you mean Michael is alive?” My voice trembled as I stared at Lincoln, who was sitting on my couch with his hands buried in his face.
“He’s alive,” Lincoln repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
“How?” I demanded, my mind reeling.
“It’s a very long story,” he muttered, looking up at me with haunted eyes. “I found out last night. I thought I was seeing a ghost.”
I sat down next to him, rubbing his back as a wave of nausea washed over me. Morgan had confided in me that she was in love with Michael before he disappeared. Now that he was back, what would that mean for her, for Slade, for all of us?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, unsure of what else to say.
“Sorry for him returning?” Lincoln asked, his voice bitter.
“Sorry for everything you and your family went through,” I clarified, my chest aching as I watched the pain etched on his face.
“Talon threw up when he saw Michael,” Lincoln said, his voice hollow. “I don’t know what’s worse—believing he was dead or finding out he’s alive after all this time. I need something.”
“I’m here for you,” I offered, squeezing his shoulder.
“I don’t mean that. I need a drink. Something strong,” he muttered, his eyes distant.
I rose from the couch and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the bottle of vodka I kept in the freezer. When I returned, Lincoln poured himself a drink and threw it back in one gulp. He poured a second and sipped it slowly, his eyes fixed on the wall.
“What’s he going to do now that he’s back?” I asked, breaking the heavy silence.
“Start his life up again,” Lincoln replied, his voice edged with frustration. “He’s unhappy Morgan is engaged.”
“She loves Slade,” I reminded him. “They’re getting married in three months.”
“Maybe,” Lincoln said, his tone doubtful.
“She won’t end it to be with Michael,” I insisted, trying to believe my own words.
“Why not? You said she loved him,” Lincoln countered, his eyes searching mine.
“She did, but she’s getting married,” I repeated, though the uncertainty in my voice betrayed me.
Lincoln scrubbed his face with his hands, then finished off his vodka. “I need you,” he said quietly, his voice breaking.
“I know, sweetheart,” I replied, my heart breaking for him.
He leaned against me, resting his head on my shoulder. I stroked his cheek, trying to soothe his tortured soul. I couldn’t begin to imagine the turmoil he was going through. He had believed his brother was dead, and now everything had been upended.
“Can we go to bed?” Lincoln asked, sounding utterly exhausted.
“Of course,” I whispered, kissing the top of his head.
He lifted his head and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. The last few days had been a whirlwind of shared beds, either at his place or mine. We couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, and I was surprised I still had the energy to run all over the city showing properties. But tonight felt different. Tonight, Lincoln needed more than just physical closeness—he needed my emotional support.
Lincoln undressed down to his boxers and slid under the covers. I took a moment to brush my teeth, my thoughts spinning as I tried to process everything. It was still early, barely 9 p.m., but I was drained from a day of showing over a dozen properties to an indecisive couple. I needed rest, and so did Lincoln.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Lincoln was already dozing. I stripped down to my panties, then snatched his white t-shirt from the padded bench at the end of the bed and slipped it on. As I crawled into bed, I nestled against him, resting my head on his chest. I planted a few soft kisses on his pec before snuggling closer. Lincoln didn’t open his eyes, but he instinctively wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
“For what?” I asked softly. “The comfort I offer?”
“For being you,” he murmured. “I’m not sure what my life would be without you.”
I smiled faintly, though my heart ached. I wanted to tell him he was doing just fine before we met, but now that we had found each other, I couldn’t deny how much everything had changed. Life was different now—unpredictable, intense, and undeniably intertwined with his.