Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
Erika
I cried out as Lincoln pushed me against the foyer wall, the cool, hard surface pressing into my back. The mirror next to us rattled with each forceful thrust, its reflection distorting with the rhythm of our passion. My skirt and shredded hot pink panties lay discarded on the floor near his feet, a chaotic testament to the urgency of our need. It had been two days since we last had sex—two days too long for either of us.
My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin beneath the fabric.
“Rip it open,” he panted, his voice rough with desire.
“I love this shirt,” I protested, but the sound of his ragged breaths drowned out my words.
“I can buy another,” he urged, his eyes blazing with an intensity that matched the fire between us. “I want you to touch me.”
With a fierce tug, I yanked at his collar. Buttons flew in different directions, clattering to the floor. As Lincoln steadied me in his arms, I pulled harder, feeling the fabric tear. Two more buttons came loose, and I slipped my hands inside the torn shirt, my palms grazing his smooth, muscular flesh. Each thrust drove him deeper, sending electric shivers through me.
“Yes, yes!” I cried, my lips pressed against his neck, breathless with pleasure.
“No one can have you,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “You’re mine.”
“I don’t have a ring on my finger,” I teased, gasping with each powerful push.
Lincoln paused, his breath hot against my face as he lifted my chin. His gaze was intense, searching mine for an answer.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice tender despite the fire in his eyes. “I’ll give you anything you ask.”
“I don’t need a ring,” I replied, breathless.
“Then say you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice laced with an edge of vulnerability.
“I am yours,” I whispered fiercely. “Now make me come.”
Lincoln’s hands gripped my bare ass, lifting my body as he slammed into me with a fierce rhythm. His cock slid past my swollen walls, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me. Seconds later, a powerful orgasm took hold, my body trembling as I was engulfed by a storm of ecstasy.
Even as I shattered in pleasure, Lincoln didn’t relent. His movements grew more intense, his chest heaving with the effort. When he finally came, he grunted and groaned my name, filling me with his hot, molten release. The culmination of our passion left us both breathless and spent, our bodies intertwined in a moment of raw, unrestrained connection.
Sex with Lincoln was always a whirlwind of passion, and as I showered his chest with kisses, he took a moment to catch his breath.
“I worry about you, Erika,” he murmured, pressing his lips gently to my forehead.
“Why?” I asked, looking up at him with a curious tilt of my head.
“You’re gorgeous and wild, sometimes to the extreme,” he said, his gaze full of admiration.
“I’m only wild with you,” I replied, smiling up at him.
“I find that hard to believe,” Lincoln said, his eyes softening. “You light up a room. Hell, you light up my freaking life.”
“Is that your way of saying you love me?” I asked, teasing him with a playful smile.
“You know I do,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “I’m such a pussy.”
“You’re not a pussy,” I said softly, tracing a finger along his jaw.
“Six weeks ago, a relationship wasn’t even on my radar,” Lincoln confessed.
“Did you ever think it was time?” I inquired, genuinely interested.
“I didn’t. I figured I’d keep fucking around for a few more years, maybe even longer.”
“That’s no way to live,” I said, shaking my head.
“You were doing it. Did you ever think of settling down?” he asked, his tone thoughtful.
“Eventually,” I admitted. “After a few years of therapy. My parents messed me up. They can’t even be in the same room together. What if I get married? Will they ruin my wedding with a full-blown argument?”
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Lincoln said firmly. “I’d throw them out first.”
“Who says you’ll be my husband?” I challenged, my eyes narrowing slightly.
“I do,” Lincoln said with a confident smile. “Do you want anyone else?”
“No, but marriage?” I hesitated. “It’s a big step.”
“It’s the natural progression,” Lincoln said, his expression serious. “Look at Morgan.”
“Then you’ll have to get over your dislike of her,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m trying,” Lincoln admitted with a sigh. “But Michael is miserable.”
“Put me down,” I said, feeling the strain in my back.
“I don’t want to,” Lincoln said, his voice filled with regret. “You’re angry at me.”
“I’m not,” I said, “my back hurts.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Lincoln said, his tone softening as he carried me to the bedroom.
Lincoln carried me to the bedroom, his steps deliberate as he kicked my discarded skirt and shredded panties out of the way. He lowered me gently onto the bed, his fingers already working on the buttons of my blouse.
“I don’t like you in business suits,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with desire.
I smirked, knowing exactly where this was going. “What do you prefer me in?”
“Nothing at all,” he replied, his voice husky as he unfastened the last button.
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “That’s quite obvious, Elliott.”
His gaze softened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. “I love you.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to mask the warmth that spread through me. “That’s obvious, too.” I paused, recalling Sabian’s earlier defeat. “But I should be pissed that you screwed me out of a huge commission.”
Lincoln’s lips curled into a smirk as he slid the blouse off my shoulders. “Money isn’t everything. You might’ve had to battle his octopus hands.”
I shivered at the memory, nodding slightly. “I was thinking that, too.”
He didn’t respond immediately, instead pressing his face between my breasts, kissing and licking my cleavage as he tugged me closer. “You taste good,” he muttered against my skin.
“I need a shower and a glass of wine,” I sighed, trying to focus on anything but the fire he was stoking inside me.
Lincoln pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Are you staying tonight?”
I hesitated, torn between work and the pull of his presence. “I have no choice.”
He tilted his head, a playful yet serious glint in his eyes. “You always have a choice.”
“Then no,” I teased. “I have so much work to do.”
His expression shifted, the frown lines on his forehead deepening. “If I didn’t mention a choice, would you stay?”
I softened, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I’m kidding. I’m expecting a call from a client tonight. We need to discuss his needs.”
“His?” Lincoln’s eyebrow arched. “Why are your clients always male?”
“They’re not always male. They’re the difficult ones sent my way,” I explained, shrugging out of my black jacket and blouse, letting them fall carelessly to the floor.
Lincoln’s eyes followed the movement, a possessive gleam returning. “You do have that charming quality about you.”
Before I could respond, my phone rang from the foyer. I slipped out of bed, clad only in my hot pink bra, and padded down the hall to retrieve it from my purse. Lincoln followed closely, his gaze burning into my back as I answered the call.
As I spoke, I couldn’t help but pace; it was a habit that relaxed me during business conversations. Lincoln’s eyes never left me, his cock still hanging out of his khakis, a testament to the hold I had over him. A few minutes later, as I finished the call, I noticed him stroking himself, fully aroused once more.
“Jesus Christ, Elliott, you’re like a teenage boy,” I teased, hanging up the phone.
“You know how fucking sexy you are?” he shot back, his voice thick with desire.
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I imagine it’s a turn-on for you to see me walking around in nothing but a bra.”
He shook his head, his eyes dark with intensity. “It’s more than that, it’s you. Everything about you is a turn-on.”
I bent down to snatch my skirt and destroyed panties from the floor, bunching them up as I headed back to the bedroom. Lincoln, of course, followed, stripping off his shirt and shoving his pants and boxers off his hips. He caught up to me, scooping me into his arms with a growl of pure want, and carried me into the bathroom, ready to continue where we left off.
“Sweetheart?”
Lincoln’s voice tugged me from the depths of a dream. I blinked groggily, realizing I had drooled onto his chest. Mortification heated my cheeks as I quickly wiped my mouth and the wet spot on his skin, hoping the dim light hid my blushing.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep, my fingers still fumbling at the dampness.
Lincoln’s hand gently stroked my hair, his touch warm and reassuring. “Don’t apologize for being tired,” he murmured, his tone teasing. “I guess I wore you out in the shower.”
“Arrogance doesn’t suit you,” I shot back, though a small smile tugged at my lips as I met his gaze. The corner of his mouth lifted in response.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest, a vibration that made me smile despite myself. “But you should be used to it by now.”
Propping myself up on one elbow, I looked at him, our faces inches apart. “What’s on your agenda this weekend?”
“I’ve got a few showings,” Lincoln said, his gaze steady as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Why?”
“I’m having lunch with Morgan and Slade. I thought you could join us,” he suggested, his voice laced with an underlying hope.
The suggestion made me stiffen. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Lincoln’s brows furrowed, his expression darkening. “Then when?”
I sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t know.”
“The wedding is in two months,” he pressed, his voice firm but not unkind. “I want to take you as my date.”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, turning away from him and burying my face into the pillow, inhaling his familiar scent.
Lincoln’s hand settled on my shoulder, his touch a mix of tenderness and insistence. “Erika, think of how I feel. Michael is my brother. You know Morgan is making a mistake.”
“She isn’t,” I snapped, my voice edged with hurt. “Don’t say that about her.”
“She is,” Lincoln countered, his voice low and determined. “I know she is.”
“Maybe Michael made the mistake by going out on his boat,” I retorted, my voice rising with defensiveness. “He had a chance.”
Lincoln’s grip on my shoulder tightened slightly, his knuckles brushing against my skin. “He didn’t know that. He only went out because he saw Morgan kissing Slade. He asked her to spend the weekend with him, and she declined.”
“Is this how it’s going to be?” I asked, frustration leaking into my voice as I turned to face him, my eyes locked with his. “Are we just going to keep having this same argument?”
He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as he attempted to pull me closer. I resisted, turning my back to him, feeling the tension in his body as he exhaled sharply.
“I just want you to know how I feel,” Lincoln said softly, his voice barely a whisper against the tense silence. “I’m team Michael.”
“I’m team love,” I countered, turning slowly to face him again, my eyes searching his. “And Morgan loves Slade.”
“But she also loves Michael,” Lincoln argued, his eyes pleading with me to understand. “I know she does.”
My gaze narrowed, suspicion tightening my chest. “How could you possibly know that?”
“I just do,” he said, his voice imbued with a certainty that unsettled me.
I pushed myself up, my movements sharp with emotion as I stared him down. “How?”
Lincoln hesitated, a shadow of unease crossing his features. “You can’t say I told you.”
A cold sense of dread settled in my stomach. “I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
“It’s your choice,” he said quietly, his tone resigned. “Do you, or don’t you?”
I bit my lip, the weight of his words pressing heavily on me. Finally, I nodded. “I do because I doubt Morgan will tell me.”
“She told Michael she did,” Lincoln revealed, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching mine. “She’s still in love with him.”
I sank back onto the pillow, the heaviness of his revelation crashing over me. My best friend had kept this secret, and though I could understand her reasons, it didn’t make the betrayal any easier to bear. She was torn between two men—a position I didn’t envy.