Chapter Six
Lilah
Lincoln is gorgeous every minute of the day, but when he looks up at me from between my legs, his face wet with my juices, enough heat banked in his eye to start a forest fire, he's a level of sexy I can't even comprehend.
All I can do is reach for him, desperate to feel him inside of me.
I'll deal with the repercussions and ramifications later.
Right now, they don't matter. The only thing that matters is the way he's looking at me and the way my entire body aches for him.
"You taste like my new addiction, little bookworm," he drawls, sliding up my body until he's hovering over me on the sofa, his lips inches from mine.
I lean up, kissing him. My taste is all over him, but I don't mind. There's something sexy about it, about the way he's covered in me. I whimper into his mouth, my hand sliding down his abdomen toward his cock.
"Fuck," he groans, bucking into my hand when I wrap it around his length through his slacks. And sweet Jesus, he's so fucking big. He's going to split me in two, and make sure I know he was there come tomorrow.
"I need you," I whisper, fighting with his zipper to get it undone.
"Then take me out, sweetness," he orders, his voice all bossy impatience and gritty desperation. "Wrap that pretty little hand around me and put me inside."
My core clenches, another wave of heat rolling through me.
He shifts us around on the sofa while I fight with his zipper, finally getting it down. My hand disappears into his pants, wrapping around his hard cock. Jesus. He's so fucking long and thick.
"You're going to break me with this thing, Lincoln."
"No." His lips brush mine before he nips at my throat. "I'm going to wreck you with it."
Yeah, I think he might. I think he's already wrecking me.
All night, I've tried to remind myself to be cautious with him, to guard my heart.
And all night, I just kept finding more reasons to like him.
He's nothing like I thought he was. I don't think he's like any billionaire I've ever met before.
He's…better. In ways that are as beautiful as they are terrifying.
If I'm not careful, he's going to steal my whole heart. I already feel it happening, feel my resolve weakening. And I don't care nearly as much as I probably should.
"Goddamn," he growls, writhing above me. "That hand is torture."
"Yeah? Does this mean you don't want to know if my mouth is any better?" I tease, my voice shaky and breathless as I stroke him, squeezing just enough to make sure he feels me.
His gaze immediately jumps to my lips, his eyes darkening. "Oh, I definitely want to know," he groans. "But I know if I do, I'll be coming down your pretty little throat instead of inside you."
"Pity," I whisper, letting my fingers trail along his balls. "I kind of like the thought of having you down my throat."
He growls, sinking one hand into my hair to crane my head back. The way he looks at me sets another round of fires all over my body. "You aren't playing fair," he growls.
"Who said I had to play fair?" I cock a brow at him, smirking. "Maybe I like the way you look right now."
"Yeah? How do I look?"
"Like you're ready to devour me."
"I already did that, sweetness. Now, I'm going to fuck you into next week," he promises, dragging my legs up over his hips. "And I want those heels leaving bruises on my back while I do it. Put me inside."
Lord, have mercy.
I stroke him twice more—just until he growls at me—and then press his cock against my entrance. He groans and rocks his hips until the head of his cock breaches my opening.
"Christ. You already feel like heaven." His eyes meet mine, all wild and greedy as he slips a hand between us, rubbing circles against my clit. "Maybe I'll make you come like this before I give you what you want and fuck you."
"Please." I'm not sure if I'm asking him to do it or to fuck me already. All I know is that the way he's grinding against me feels incredible. I want more, more, more.
He presses forward a little more, his thumb still circling.
The orgasm hits out of nowhere, blasting through me in a jolt that's all shock and awe and whimpering convulsions. Holy God. I cling to his shoulders, moaning.
"Jesus, Lilah," he groans, his eyes locked on my face like I'm the best thing he's ever seen. "You keep coming on my cock like that, and I might just keep you on it all night."
"Yes, please," I pant, aftershocks still pinging through me.
His lips curve into a reckless grin, the kind meant to break hearts and raise hell. My core clenches again, another wave of heat blasting through me. He dips his head, pressing his lips against my ear. "Look at you, being so fucking polite while you're dripping down my balls."
"Fuck me, Lincoln."
He chuckles, a gritty, dangerous sound, and then nips my throat before pressing forward. I cling to his shoulders, my head lolling as he splits me open, inch by perfect inch. He's so big, it's almost painful. Almost. But it feels too damn good to hurt.
Nothing has ever felt better than the way the silk of his suit brushes against my overheated skin while he fills me, groaning against my throat. Nothing has ever looked better than him, muscles straining, entire body rigid on top of me.
Lord, have mercy. I want to brand this moment into my psyche.
"Goddamn, baby," he groans, his breath pelting my throat when he's all the way in. "I could live right here. That pussy is wrapped so tightly around my cock, it's strangling him."
"He's welcome," I whimper.
Lincoln's raspy chuckle is everything. So is the way his lips attach to the side of my throat, his tongue flicking against my skin.
I drag my hands down his back to his firm ass, wrapping my legs higher. "Fuck me, Lincoln. Please," I beg.
He rocks his hips, pulling almost all the way out before he slams back inside me, just hard enough to inch me up the couch slightly. "Like this, baby? Is this how you want me to fuck you?" he asks.
"Yes!" I cry, nails digging into his ass. "God, yes!"
He growls against the side of my throat, rocking forward again. He doesn't go slow. He moves like a storm, his hips crashing into mine again and again. Every thrust pulls a moan from my lips. Every time he sinks his teeth into my skin, I pull him closer.
He fucks me like I'm the only thing that matters, driving into me until he's the only thing I remember. It's fucking perfect. So is the way he groans praise and filth in equal measure, sending currents straight through my veins.
"Harder," I beg, so damn close I can feel myself toppling on the edge.
He grabs my right leg, yanking it up over his shoulder. The change in angle is brutally perfect, forcing him so deep I can't breathe. All I can do is choke on his name as he pounds into me, his balls slapping against my ass in a way that stings just right.
"You look good full of me," he pants. "And you sound so fucking sweet when you're begging like that. Keep talking, sweetness. Tell me how fucking good you feel stuffed full of me."
"S-so good," I gasp immediately. "You feel so damn good, Lincoln."
"Going to keep you like this," he groans, his lips against the pulse hammering in the side of my throat.
"I'm not giving you up now, Lilah. Not when you feel this goddamn good.
Not when you make me ache like this." His teeth rake my skin.
"Christ, baby. The thought of giving you up makes me crazy. Say you're mine."
I choke on his name, my heart clenching at the fervent way he says it, like he's desperate to keep me. Like he needs to hear it more than he needs air.
"Say it," he growls again, thrusting so deep I feel him in my soul. "Tell me that you belong to me."
"I…I'm yours!" They're the most terrifying words I've ever spoken, but as soon as I say them, I realize they may also be the truest. I feel like his, in a way that I've never felt like I belonged anywhere or with anyone.
He isn't just making me like him. He's stealing my heart, claiming entire tracts of it as if those pieces are prime real estate designed to house him.
"Fuck yeah, you are," he breathes, kissing me until all I taste is him and the promise in his words. "You're mine, little bookworm."
I shatter with a cry, falling apart around him. It's so intense, tears sting my eyes. Blood rushes in my ears in a torrent of sound. I can't move or breathe through it. All I can do is let it wreck and remake me, over and over again.
"Lilah!" he roars, fucking me without rhythm. His hips snap against mine again and again before he plants himself deep, groaning in a way that ignites me all over again. He shudders on top of me, spilling into me in hot pulses that leave us both moaning.
And for the first time, I remember that he isn't wearing a condom. Part of me—a terrifyingly large part—doesn't even care.
"You didn't wear a condom," I whisper a long time later, draped across him on the sofa while he runs his fingers through my hair.
His hand stills before he curves it around my jaw, tipping my head back until my eyes meet his. "I know," he says. "I don't regret it."
I swallow hard, my heart beating a million miles a minute. "I'm not on birth control."
"Still don't regret it."
Lord help me…
"Me either," I rasp, and it feels like handing him the biggest piece of my soul. But I do it anyway. I think I want him to have it.
He grins at me like he knows I just gave it to him. "I know you don't trust me yet, sweetness. I know I have a lot of work to do to earn it, but I want this. I want you, more than I've ever wanted anything."