Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
WILLA
Once we were back at the silo, we unloaded the groceries in silence. Tight, blistering silence. The tension between us was thick, practically tangible.
It didn’t matter how far Lincoln was standing from me. I could feel him. And I knew if I turned around, I’d find him watching me the way he had in the store. Like he wanted to bite me. Or brand me.
Or both.
Honestly, the nerve of this man. Acting like that just because he was my husband. On paper, mind you.
Not for real.
Not forever.
I set a bag of zucchini onto the counter with a little more force than necessary and huffed a breath. Lincoln would probably lose his shit if he knew Jeff had suggested those too.
“Something on your mind, wife?” he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, controlled in a way that absolutely was not fair.
I was anything but controlled.
“Nope.”
“You sure? Cause you’ve practically drop-kicked the squash and slammed every cabinet door in less than a minute.”
“Fine. You want to know what’s on my mind?” I slammed another door and turned to glare at him. “You don’t get to mark your territory and pee a circle around me just because we filed some paperwork. I’m not a fucking fence post, Lincoln.”
His expression didn’t falter, but the corner of his jaw ticked. The only outward sign of his irritation.
“No,” he said, stepping toward me. “But you are my wife, and I’m your husband.”
I scoffed and backed into the counter without meaning to. “What does that—”
“You didn’t seem to mind marking your territory with that flirty blonde at the Strawberry Festival.”
I blinked, jerking back. “That was different. She was shoving her tits in your face and practically licking your neck!”
He stepped even closer, his voice low. “So you admit it bothered you.”
“I—” I started before snapping my mouth shut. Fuck yes, it had bothered me. She’d been all over him, and I’d wanted to climb him like a tree and hiss at her from the top. “I don’t care.”
He braced his hands on the counter on either side of my hips and leaned down until we were eye to eye. “You, my lovely wife, are a beautiful little liar.”
I shoved against his chest, but the big jackass didn’t move. “I’m not lying. There’s no reason for that to bother me. This isn’t real, Lincoln.”
His eyes darkened, his jaw ticking. “No?”
I swallowed hard, my breathing rough as I met his gaze. “No.”
He lowered his face, ran his nose along the curve of my jaw, down my neck and back up again. Against my ear, he whispered, “I don’t believe you.”
Pulling back, he flicked his gaze down to my lips before meeting my eyes once again.
“You know why? Because your cheeks are all flushed and your breathing is ragged and your nipples are hard as fuck. And I bet if I slipped my hand inside your panties, I’d feel just how fucking wet you are. Tell me that’s not real.”
“It’s not—”
He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “It sure as hell felt real when you came in my lap and when you rode my face like you couldn’t get enough. And how about when I was wiping my come off your perfect tits? Was that real, hellcat?”
Heat blasted through me like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending in my body. My pulse was a feral, reckless beast, and my pussy throbbed for his touch. Every inch of me recalling, in great detail, just how good he’d made me feel.
“Say it again,” he said, stepping into me until barely a breath of space was left between us. “Tell me it isn’t real.”
I opened my mouth to do just that but found I couldn’t. For years, I’d been fighting this thing between us, and I was so tired. Of lying to him. Of lying to myself.
“That’s what I thought.” He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and crashed his mouth down on mine.
And that was it—a spark to the gasoline that we’d been soaking in for days…weeks.
Years.
There was nothing gentle about this kiss.
It was hunger and want and years of built-up tension finally detonating.
He kissed me like he had something to prove, and every bite to my lip was a promise, every stroke of his tongue a declaration.
I moaned into him, furious with how much I needed this—needed him.
No more waiting. No more holding back.
I growled—actually growled—grabbed the front of his shirt, and shoved him against the counter. Tired of playing this game.
The smug bastard just laughed against my lips. “You gonna punish me, wife?”
“Shut. Up.” I yanked his T-shirt, tugging it up and off like it was solely responsible for all my sexual frustration, before dragging his mouth back to mine.
He kissed me back just as hard—openmouthed, desperate. Real.
There was no pretending now. No faking. No acting. Because this wasn’t about the marriage.
This was about Lincoln and me and this burning need that had been smoldering between us for years. The one I’d ignored. The one I’d lied to myself about.
The one here to finally demand the oxygen we’d been denying it for years.
Our clothes hit the floor like falling sparks, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. I wanted him to take me right here, right now. Against the wall, bent over the island. Hell, right on the hardwood floor. I didn’t care how uncomfortable it was or how much I’d inevitably pay for it later.
I just needed him immediately.
Before I could climb straight up his body, he lifted me into his arms, his fingers digging into my ass, his mouth still hungry on mine. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but I didn’t care. Not when I could feel him, hot and hard right where I needed him.
I rolled my hips, dragging a groan from his throat. One second, we were upright, and the next, I was flat on my back, the mattress soft beneath me with Lincoln braced above.
“What—”
“I didn’t want to fuck up your back if you had to stand there too long.
” He sank to the floor next to the bed and slid his hands up my inner thighs, spreading me wide for his greedy gaze.
“And I’m not getting off my knees any time soon.
This pretty little cunt got her first taste of worship, and now she’s gonna learn what being spoiled really means. ”
I exhaled a shaky breath, and then he was there, licking a path through my slit and groaning into my flesh like he’d been starved for his favorite meal. Dropping my head back, I moaned to the ceiling, my thighs already trembling.
“Been dreaming about this sweet pussy since my last taste,” he rasped, brushing his lips against my clit before sucking it into his mouth. “Can’t even go a single goddamn night without waking up hard as a fucking rock, thinking about the sounds you made when you came on my face.”
“God, Lincoln—”
He licked a path through my pussy, slow and deliberate.
Memorizing me. Savoring me. He flattened his tongue against my clit, letting loose a low groan like the taste of me short-circuited his brain.
And I couldn’t say I was faring much better.
Not when his mouth was this good, his attention this focused.
With one hand anchored on my thigh, he splayed me wide, and he slid his other hand under me to grip my ass. Tilting me just how he wanted. Driving me wild with every flick and stroke of his tongue, with every hum vibrating against my skin.
“You gonna try to tell me it’s not real while my tongue’s on your pussy?” He licked me again, slower this time, his eyes locked on mine from his perch between my spread thighs. “Gonna try to lie to me again while your cunt’s dripping down my chin?”
God. God.
I couldn’t think. Could barely breathe as I stared down at him. He looked so fucking hot like this—his eyes dark and feral, cheeks flushed, hair a mess from my fingers, the bottom half of his face wet from what he was doing to me.
“You think anyone else could make you feel this good? Could lick your pussy this well?” His voice was low…rough…paired with an edge of something I couldn’t quite name.
I wasn’t sure if he wanted or even needed an answer, but I gave him one anyway, shaking my head quickly as I curled my fingers in the sheets just to anchor myself to earth. To stop myself from floating away thanks to the pleasure he was stoking inside me.
“That’s right,” he said, nothing but pure male satisfaction in his tone. “I eat this perfect cunt like I’m hungry for it, don’t I, hellcat? Because I am. I’ve been fucking starving for it.”
And then he was done playing with his meal. He gripped the backs of my thighs, pushed my legs toward my chest, and buried his face against my pussy.
A constant stream of moans and unintelligible sounds left my throat as he licked broad, possessive strokes through my slit.
Teased my entrance with a finger before sinking one, then two, deep inside me.
Flattened his tongue and dragged it from my entrance to my clit before sucking hard enough to make me cry out, my entire body seizing in pleasure.
“There you go, wife. That’s my girl.” He groaned, long and low as he curled his fingers, stroking that spot inside me. “I can feel you, so fucking desperate to come.”
I whimpered, rocking my hips against him. Needing…something. More, faster, harder…I didn’t know. Just that I was so close but not close enough.
“Relax, baby. We’re not gonna rush it.” He continued curling his fingers inside me as he flicked my clit with his thumb. When his pinkie brushed against my back entrance, I damn near shot off the bed.
“Linc—” I gasped, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, pulse a galloping racehorse in my chest.
He hummed, a self-satisfied sound. “Feel good, wife?”
“Yes,” I breathed, rolling my hips, so damn needy for more.
Reaching up with one hand, he cupped my breast, brushing his thumb across my nipple before pinching it and giving a sharp tug. I couldn’t hold in my moan, not when he was working my body like he knew exactly what I needed. Working it like he owned it.
“Look at you. Those fucking wet dream tits and this cunt… All pink and swollen and ready for me.” He worked his fingers inside me, the sounds filling the room wet and filthy and perfect. “I’m the only one who’s done this to you, aren’t I?”
Whimpering, I nodded because I couldn’t do anything else. He was right. He was the only one who’d ever seen me like this—strung out and desperate and aching for more.
“Your mouth, Linc—” I reached for him, slid my fingers into his hair, and tugged him close. “Please. I need your mouth.”
Instead of teasing me, he gave in immediately, leaning in and adding his tongue in tandem to his thumb, creating a jumbled mess of sensation that drove me wild. All while he pressed more insistently against my tight hole, and my pussy pulsed an erratic rhythm, desperate to come.
He kept his eyes locked on mine as he flicked his tongue across my clit, and then he slid a third finger inside my pussy, his pinkie just breaching my back entrance, and I shattered.
The orgasm ripped through me before I could brace for it.
It wasn’t soft or slow, no rolling waves of bliss.
No, this was wild and volcanic, molten heat searing through my veins as my pussy clamped down on his fingers and my thighs locked tight around his head.
He groaned against me like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
The only thing he wanted to taste for the rest of his life.
It wasn’t our reality, but it was easy to trick myself into believing it was true. Especially when I looked down at him and found him staring back, eyes dark and hooded, his mouth soaked with my come. He looked feral. Desperate. On the brink of losing control.
He looked like mine.