Chapter 23
Quinnly
Lincoln crawled into bed with me last night at some point. His arms are wrapped around my stomach making my whole body burn. I’ve never allowed anyone to touch me for prolonged periods of time. Usually it gives me an icky feeling, but with him it’s not entirely unwelcome.
Though, he’s so deep in a restful state that I might just be able to use my new toy I ordered online. He didn’t give me much time to improvise, but I think this present will be special.
I glance at the water beside his bed and notice it’s gone, which means I should have no trouble doing what I plan to do.
He drugged me first–multiple times–seems fair enough. He was so tense after Le Douche a few days ago that I started to wonder if he would ever fucking sleep. Drastic measures had to be taken.
Pulling the box out of the brown packaging, I open everything and set it all out.
This is going to be so much fun, I only hope I got the right size.
With a shrug, I quickly glance over the instructions and start mixing all the things I need.
With him on his side, it’s easier to get what I need, only one small issue, but my scissors can handle that.
Cutting into the fabric of his boxers, I free his perfect cock and giggle at little at how fucking hard he is.
I mixed something special into his nighty-night drink, so he wouldn’t just be unconscious.
When the mixture is ready, I press his cock into the mold and make sure to include his balls.
I mean, they’re pretty too, so why shouldn’t they be immortalized?
Now I have to wait, which is lame as fuck.
I’m excited and aroused, and I should eat.
Lincoln will like that I’m starting to notice when I require food, he’s always so touchy about that.
There’s a box of unopened strawberry Pop-Tarts on the kitchen counter.
I’d think it was suspicious if I didn’t know about his assistant.
I really need to get one of those, if only just to bring me Pop-Tarts and tacos.
Unwrapping the silver goodness, I devour the first two. Maybe I was hungry. Plucking another pack from the box, I hop up onto the counter and check my phone for the timer. I want to be there when it’s ready so I can rip it off.
Maybe he’ll sleep through the whole process and I’ll be able to surprise him with a present. Or maybe he’ll wake up and rage fuck me, either way, I’m winning.
It’s snowing outside, big flakes fall from the sky and stick to the patio furniture out of the kitchen window.
A shiver works its way down my spine and the timer on my phone goes off.
With a giddy noise, I hop off the counter and head back into the bedroom.
Lincoln’s still asleep, his belly rounds on the mattress, cock pressed into the tube, locs spread across the pillow.
It’s a good thing he shaved, because this stuff is stuck on real good. Pressing my fingers into his skin, the mold’s suction releases and I pull until his cock is free. Looking into the tube, I can’t help my laughter from bubbling up.
His cock is still hard, and I stare at it. I wonder how long it would take him to cum? Would he wake up? Could it even be possible? Consent Quinnly, I hear Naomi’s voice in my head, and roll my eyes. She’s such a killjoy. We’re way past consent at this point anyways.
The rest of the stuff is still in the kitchen, so I crawl off the bed with my new cast and head back. I ordered more colors than what the kit came with, and extra silicone just in case I fucked it up the first time.
Directions are confusing, and I have to read them twice before I mix the silicone. Adding in the pink sparkly stuff, I pour the mixture into the mold and set it up against the kitchen counter so it doesn’t fall over.
Setting another timer, I swipe my Pop-Tart off the counter and head to the couch. I finally found the movies hiding beneath the television console, so now I pop one in and watch it. I learned a lot about how to act and hide in society by watching movies.
The timer goes off about halfway through the movie–some chick jumping into a vat of questionable liquid for what?
A man. Get real.–and excitement ratchets up my spine.
Jumping from the couch, I skip to the mold and release my new toy slowly.
When it’s completely out, I hold it up to my face and laugh.
It’s pretty, like he is. Pink and glittery.
Then I set about making another one in neon green, because why the fuck not? This one’s for my own personal use and I have just enough glitter left to make it sparkle.
I also bought a tattoo gun, and I thought about tattooing my name on his leg where he branded mine… but thinking about his cock being there, and with him completely out…
You shouldn’t, says a voice in my head that sounds a lot like Paps.
“But I want to.” I reply to memory Paps, as I ready all my tattooing supplies.
He’s going to be so pissed.
Lincoln didn’t wake for several more hours, so either he must have been really tired, or I messed up the dosage… whoops. An added bonus? I hid all the evidence of my surprise. Now, I know he’s awake by the shocked and growly Menace that’s roared from the other room.
“What the fuck?”
My smile pulls at my cheeks, I’m pretty fucking proud of my work. I’ve never been too talented in the art aspect, so I impressed myself.
Sticking my head around the corner I bite my bottom lip, “You rang?”
“You tattooed my dick?!” His eyes move from his–very pretty–dick back to me.
“Let me remind you,” I start as he stands from the bed, “you carved your name into my skin, so it’s only fair…”
His eyes darken, brows drawing over them as he stalks my way. When my butt hits the counter, he crowds me in, bracketing his arms around my body. His lips crash down on mine, one hand dives into my hair and the other grips my neck.
“I do love a good hand necklace,” I comment, breaking the kiss. “But, just to make sure I understand what’s happening here… you aren’t happy about the tattoo, so you’re kissing me with the thought of strangling me, yes?”
“The thought crossed my mind,” he agrees. “I see how I might have given you the idea.”
Leaning down, he nips at my lips and places his hands on my hips.
“For the record, I would have let you do it without the drugs, if you’d asked.”
My mouth drops open and he chuckles, spanking my ass as he walks backward into the bedroom grumbling about how much it hurts.
He’s something else. Coming out of the bedroom he heads to the kitchen to get some coffee, and I can’t help watching his movements. How someone so large can move so gracefully is fucking magic.
I’ve got two perfect replicas of his shlong hidden in my bags and he has no idea.
I can’t have him knowing about them just yet.
All the evidence of my art project is gone, hidden in the neighbor’s trash can.
While I was waiting for him to wake up I’ve been researching for my next kill, the next woman on Conall’s list is a naughty, naughty girl.
“Where are we headed to next?” He asks, hovering over my shoulder with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.
“I thought you knew,” I snip, turning to eye him.
He chuckles, and it sends all the hair on my body sticking straight up. If he doesn’t fuck me soon… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be good.
“I have the list, Menace, not your schedule.”
Rolling my eyes, I show him her picture. “She’s a pretty thing, that’s for sure.” He nods, and takes a sip of coffee when I add, “She’s also going to be harder to get to.”
His eyes slide my way, and he smirks.
“What do you know?” I demand, putting the computer on the couch and turning to face him.
He shrugs and turns around, walking back to the kitchen when his toast pops up. Jumping over the couch, I follow. “Whatever you know, you have to share.”
He laughs, but doesn’t say anything. Only slathers his toast with jam and takes a bite, staring straight at me as he chews.
“I’ll stab you,” I warn and raise my eyebrows.
“I’m not concerned,” he says around another bite.
“I’ll… bite,” I try.
He leans down, eyes hooded and licks his lips. “I might be into that.”
My brows pull together. Who is this man? The Lincoln I know doesn’t… flirt. Or at least, I think that’s what he’s doing.
He nips at my bottom lip, catching me off guard, and walks into the bedroom leaving me standing in the kitchen with the taste of jam on my lips, and a burning in my gut. I want to know what he knows, but mostly… I want to know what kind of psycho likes grape jam?