Chapter 23 #2
“Mmmmm,” he groans, his eyes shut tight, his whole body shaking under the torture of not allowing himself to come.
I look down at his dick, angry, slick with moisture, and even from here I can see the steady, slow oozing waterfall of precum leaking from the tip of his penis and pooling on my lower belly.
I want to be evil, so I start to wriggle underneath him.
“S-stop moving,” he whispers, eyes still shut tight, concentrating really hard. I know his balls must be so tight right now.
There’s silence for about a minute, and while his eyes are closed, he shakes his head, almost in defeat.
“I… I might as well,” he says, opening his eyes slowly, half-lidded as he stares down at me helplessly.
“You better not.”
“I’m literally almost over anyway. I think I’m already—”
“Then sure, go ahead. If you want me to leave.”
Lincoln looks almost betrayed as he stares down at me, then he growls, releases my wrists, and gets up off the bed.
He starts pacing back and forth in my room, rubbing his face in frustration and curling his fist over his balls.
It doesn’t look like he came.
“How long is this going to take?” he asks angrily at me.
“How long is what going to take?”
“You torturing me like this! I seriously can’t fucking take this anymore!”
“Lincoln, seriously—”
“It fucking hurts, Gabby! I’m not just saying that to be funny. It really fucking hurts!” he says, spit flying from his mouth as he speaks.
He’s so worked up and frustrated, to the point of pain, that it actually turns me on.
“That’s very unfortunate,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“How long?” he barks, eyes flashing fire at me while he wrestles his boxers and pants back up over his still extremely obvious erection.
Still propped up on my elbows, lying on my back, I curve my lips into a wicked, knowing smirk. “When I leave,” I answer.
Lincoln's gaze bores into mine for a suspended beat, then he tucks his lips between his teeth and nods slowly, as if he’s barely restraining his frustration.
He finally breaks the eye contact, still nodding to himself, and walks out of my room. A second later his bedroom door slams shut.
I giggle. Finding a fresh pair of underwear, I toss the old ones into the laundry. I want to take a shower later, but for now I need to do damage control, or rather relish in the torture I’m causing him.
I head to his room, open the door, and crawl into the bed behind him. Lincoln is curled on his right side, sulking.
Grinning, I slide in close and wrap myself against his back, fitting along his spine.
“No. No,” he says firmly, not turning around to face me. “Get away from me.” He jerks his shoulder, knocking my arm off when I try to slip it around him.
I reach anyway, my left hand gliding over his hip and into the space in front of him. My fingers find his still very hard cock, straining through the fabric, and I give it a generous squeeze before starting to stroke him through his clothes.
Lincoln starts humping instinctively before he moves my hand away.
“I said fucking stop,” he mutters.
“I like teasing you though.”
“Fucking stop, I said,” he says with a slight growl in his undertone.
I’m turned on, and I want to push him. I’m in that kind of mood, and I’m still horny for him too.
Leaning over, I nibble his left ear while placing my hand on his cock again, this time slipping my hand inside, underneath his clothes so my palm is skin-to-skin with his pulsing dick.
Lincoln shifts quickly, causing me to fall away onto my back. His hand finds my neck and then he’s on me, straddling me, choking me lightly before he presses his nose to mine.
“If you don’t stop, you’re going to end up having to leave. I can only take so much, and at some point you’re going to push me past that,” he breathes into my face quietly and threateningly, still squeezing the front of my throat slightly.
I open my legs, turned on by his domination. “Okay,” I whisper submissively, smiling up at him.
Releasing my throat, he returns to his right side, trying to sleep.
“I still want to sleep here with you,” I whisper, fighting the humor.
“Whatever,” he grumbles, not facing me.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I wake up to Lincoln tossing and turning and growling angrily throughout the night.
Every time I’m close to falling back asleep, the mattress shifts again, he kicks the covers off, drags them back on, lets out another annoyed sound.
Whenever I try to touch him or hug him or hold him, he shrugs me off, so I stop trying. But if he does this the rest of the night, neither of us is getting any sleep.
Finally, grunting and huffing, Lincoln throws off his side of the covers and gets up. Leaving the bedroom, he closes the door a little loud, heading to the living room or wherever he’s going.
He takes a while to come back, and I can’t sleep unless he does. What the hell is he doing out there?
I get up, traipsing through the dark, and when I peer into the living room I see Lincoln in the shadows.
He’s huffing and puffing.
My heart drops, thinking he’s given up and is beating himself off, but as I adjust my eyes and make out the shape, he’s actually doing burpees.
Smiling, I tiptoe back into his bed.
After about fifteen minutes he comes back into the room and closes the door behind him, barely able to catch his breath, and then he takes a quick shower.
It’s super quick, only about five minutes. The poor man probably had to work some of that testosterone out of his system.
Maybe it’s the only way he could deal with it, and the fact that he’s trying so hard to adhere to this silly rule of mine means a lot to me.
It’s the bare minimum he could do, and I thought he had that kind of discipline when we were married.
A little too late, but still amusing at the least.
After his shower, he drops into bed.
I’m lying on my right side, so I see when he plops onto his stomach, his head facing in my direction, his eyes closed.
He’s wearing one of his black undershirts and his gray boxers.
“Did you cheat?” I ask him in a whisper.
With his eyes closed, sounding as though he’s already halfway into the land of sleep, he answers, “No. But I’m still in a bad mood. I’m just… really tired. I don’t have the strength to be as angry as I was.”
His words slur with exhaustion, his eyes never opening, and it’s not surprising that probably right after that last word, he falls instantly asleep.
The workout and the shower always reset him and make him tired, especially after a long day. We used to take showers together, something I miss, but with work and our different schedules and him having to get up so early, couple showers are a thing of the past.
I remain on my right side facing him.
My hand lifts, and I use my finger to brush a tendril of hair from his face as he snores lightly. He looks so peaceful, and I can’t help but smile. My heart feels so full of love, and it’s crazy how I should hate this man… but I don’t.
Watching him sleep, just admiring him, and realizing I care for him despite everything, it’s insane to me, and I can honestly understand why some people end up taking back those who wronged them.
I don’t see myself being that person… but as I place my arm over his back and hold him close…
…all I’m saying is that…
…I can understand.
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