Chapter Twenty-Three
Willow
“It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Would you rather stay where you are or eat at the table?
” Lincoln calls from the kitchen, and I hunker deeper into the pile of blankets on his couch.
One particular navy-blue blanket is just the right everything—size, softness, and weight.
Not to mention it’s deeply saturated with Linc’s sweet caramel-apple pheromones. Ugh. I may never leave.
“Wherever!” We were supposed to be at my home, but somehow, the sexy Alpha talked me into coming to his place instead. Honestly, the details are a bit fuzzy, but being surrounded by his scent cocoons me in absolute security that even my safe room can’t provide.
Though its effect on my libido…
There’s a loud banging of pots and pans, but I’ve already learned that Linc doesn’t want any help, so I remain snuggled in my spot.
My eyes take in the room, focusing on each object.
It’s a relaxed space, messy but not dirty.
The main area is well lived-in, with tools, manuals, and other random things piled about, but what catches my eye is the electric keyboard in the corner, untouched for months at least, with odd items of clothes hanging on it, but it’s there.
Does it have all its keys? The sinister thought snakes through my mind, but I toss it away. Anyone can see they’re all there. Plus, what reason would Lincoln have for giving me a key then lying about it?
I’ve only played on an electric keyboard a few times.
Dad preferred that I play a ‘true piano’ as he’d call it.
A grand piano was his preference, but a baby grand would do.
He always turned up his nose at the electric ones, though I never understood why, as I found their unique acoustics quite fun.
Just looking at the white and black keys makes my hands hurt, but the phantom pain is in my head. Nothing is injured. You’re fine.
The gloves I’m wearing are suddenly too tight, growing itchy, and I consider taking them off. The physical reminder of all I endured makes people uncomfortable, so I often cover my hands with finger gloves, full ones, or an oversized sweater to hide them under.
Loosening one, I stick a finger under and rub at my palm.
My eyes drift back to the keyboard. I wonder if he plays.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt the smooth ivory beneath my fingertips, letting music flow over me as my heart and soul bleed out into the air.
My spirit isn’t as crisp and beautiful as it once was, though.
If I played now, the tone would be darker, filled with longing and loss, turbulent with fear and remorse.
Booted footfalls head my way, and Lincoln coming into the room pulls me from my musings. He carries in two heaping plates of pasta and sets them on a small coffee table in the center of the room.
Get up and help, lazy butt. I’ve done nothing but lounge like a sloth as Lincoln’s danced around, the picture of a domestic biker fairy, fetching blankets and food.
“I’ve got this, stay where you are, baby girl,” Linc says when he notices that I’m starting to untangle myself from the pile of blankets.
He doesn’t bark or insist, but the softness in his face lets me know it’s genuine.
He’s enjoying pampering me, and who am I to stop him?
“What do you like to drink? I have beer and water, but if you tell me what you prefer, I’ll have it for next time.
Or I can send a prospect out for it now… ”
“Water is good.” There’s no way I’m going to make demands. Too snuggly and content. Bruce, Sheila, and Hugo are resting in a puppy pile on the large dog bed in the corner, but their noses twitch when he returns, carrying heavenly-smelling garlic bread and our drinks.
He sets it all on the center table. It’s far enough away from the couch to be an inconvenient eating spot, but when Linc pops open a few snack tables, everything makes sense.
His lithe body moves comfortably through the space, setting up plates and drinks before pulling napkins and utensils out of his Mary Poppins vest pockets.
Doing my best not to drool over the man and the food, I get to work extricating myself from my happy cocoon and folding it over the armrest. He smiles serenely as he watches me climb out, and it fills a gap inside me I didn’t realize was there.
It’s been so long since I’ve been able to let my guard down around someone.
As I pull dinner to my knees, he sits beside me, shoulder bumping my arm ever so gently.
“This smells delicious.” I reach for the utensils, our sides brushing against each other, sending sparks through me.
Before I’ve even twirled my fork through the pasta, Linc offers me a bite of his.
Without thinking, I open my mouth and moan as the sweet flavors of sauce and cheese melt on my tongue.
I’m not sure whether I was just starving or he has some sort of spaghetti magic, but it’s one of the best meals I’ve ever tasted.
He forks up another bite and offers it to me again.
“I can feed myself. That way, you can eat, too,” I tell him, loving the warmth radiating off his body.
Being fed by my Alpha is unexpectedly pleasant.
My dads used to do it for my mom, and I always thought it was so silly.
Grown women can eat by themselves, but now it makes more sense.
They weren’t questioning whether she could do it so much as showing how much they cared.
My heart throbs.
“Do you not want me to feed you because it bothers you, or because you’re worried about being a nuisance?” It’s a good question, and I have to consider it for a moment.
“I just don’t want to be any trouble,” I admit. Because, in truth, the way Lincoln’s catering to my every whim soothes my repressed omega instincts. Other than my nest, I’ve done my best to be as low-maintenance as possible since my parents’ murder. Before that, I was spoiled.
He lets out a happy hum, then encircles me with his arms. “Well, if you’re not opposed to it, climb up here.” He taps his leg, and I eye him warily. Is that a little too far? All that Alpha sweetness wrapped around me.
Fine. Yes. I want it. Though I’m supposed to be keeping up barriers between us, they’re already crumbling. Danger. Danger.
Not heeding my own warnings, I let Linc help me get comfortable on his lap.
His proximity makes my body react with an undeniable longing.
My nipples pucker and slick gathers between my legs.
Unable to stop myself, I rub my cheek along his leather vest, combining my honeysuckle with his sweet caramel.
The more I brush against him, the quieter my mind becomes, allowing me to slowly unwind.
“Are you scent-marking me, baby girl?” he rumbles, and I jump, realizing what I’ve done. It’s not polite to do that to an Alpha without consent.
Oh, no. Shit. Shit. Shit…
He interrupts my panic before it gets too far, “Don’t you dare apologize. You can scent-mark every inch of my body, and it still won’t be enough. I want to smell like you every second of every day.”
His promise makes me shiver, images of doing just that plunging through my mind. Heat sends desire and need racing through my veins, culminating in an ache that needs to be satisfied. My perfume bursts through the air.
“You like that idea, baby girl? Want to cover me in your honey? Let me lick the sweet cream from between your legs.” He offers me more pasta, watching me chew, his cock hardening below me.
Eating becomes a sensual dance, and I struggle to pay attention, my senses overtaken by the fires of lust. Unable to contain the need within me, I squirm on his lap, then lift my lips to trail kisses along his stubbly jawline.
The rough texture on my lips only makes the lust spike, and I let out a needy omega whimper that makes him still.
“Be good for me, omega. Eat your dinner. Then, if you say yes—only if you say yes—I’m going to devour your pussy for dessert.” Yes. Please.
“Let’s go straight to dessert.”
He offers me another bite, and I shake my head, refusing, because all I can think about is the thick erection underneath me. I roll my hips, sliding my core against his girth, searching for the friction I desperately need.
“Naughty girl. Open up, or instead of getting what you want, I’ll put you over my knee.
” His rumbly growl leaves no room for questions, and his dominance makes my omega sing.
I accept the morsel, whimpering as slick floods my panties.
Even as I do his bidding, I can’t halt the rhythm of my hips, undulating faster and faster, my inhibitions forgotten.
Do I want to be spanked? Maybe…
Lincoln brings a piece of garlic bread to my lips, and I snap at it, twisting my body until my breasts press against his chest. There are too many layers of clothes between us—vest, shirts, my bra.
I need it gone, nothing but skin. I’ve never been with an Alpha before.
Only betas. And right now, I need him more than I need oxygen.
Linc throws his head back, trying to gain control, but I can’t have that. “I see we don’t want to listen.” He chuckles darkly, his big hands gripping my hips. My omega has taken over, demanding our Alpha care for us.
“No.” I nip his throat, pulling a groan from him.
“Playing the brat, huh?” I’m not sure what playing the brat is, but I keep going until he unleashes a deep growl that makes me wetter.
“I’ll be anything you want. Brat. Angel. Devil. Whatever you say, as long as we take these clothes off,” I beg, my voice barely above a whisper.
Curling his fingers into my hips, Linc stops my frantic motion. “Look at me, omega,” he barks, and my gaze snaps to his. His dominance is an aphrodisiac. I want to be controlled; I need to be conquered because the rest of my world is chaos. “Are you needy for your Alpha?”
“Yes.” My answer comes from my soul, and his eyes darken at my tone.
“Before we go further, I want your consent. I’m a dominant man.
Demand your surrender, completely and wholly.
If you say yes, you’re mine.” His words ought to scare me, but they don’t.
Instead, they send a thrill coursing through me.
And for whatever reason, I trust that putting my body in his hands will be the right thing.
“You have it.” I nod in agreement.
“Any hard limits?”
“What’s a hard limit?” The room has narrowed to nothing but the ache between my legs, and I roll my pelvis against him once more. Linc’s jaw locks, and he looks to the sky, his scent swirling as he fights for control.
I don’t want him controlled. No. I want the real Lincoln—tether snapped, fangs bared.
“Anything you absolutely don’t want to explore?” he grits as my hands find their way under his shirt. The heat of his skin sears my palms, echoing through my body.
The haze of need makes it impossible to think. “Nothing that will make me bleed,” I blurt out, sliding my hands along the hard ridges of muscle at his stomach. Want to lick.
“I don’t want your blood, baby girl. Just your pleasure. The only time I’ll ever make you bleed is when I bite.” His breath fans at the juncture of my neck, teeth scraping the tender skin, making me moan and jerk against him.
The temptation to beg for his bite burbles in my throat. “No bonds, either.”
Although I want it, the risk is too great. With this new threat, I might be forced to leave at a moment’s notice. The pain of being ripped from a scent-match would be hard, but a bonded scent-match could kill both of us.
“For now.” He sucks hard on my neck. “But it will happen. You’re mine.
” Linc guides me, rubbing my pussy along his thigh in a burst of pleasure that turns all my reservations into a moan as I surrender.
Right now, only this. Only him. I ride his leg wantonly until the friction of the fabric becomes too much for my overstimulated skin.
“Yes. Later. But now less clothes.” My hands turn into ineffective claws as I rip at his shirt.
“Slow down, I’ve got you,” Linc promises, calming my frantic motions before lifting me to my feet like I weigh nothing.
Sweet caramel surrounds me as he releases the button of my jeans, then helps me shimmy the offending material to the floor.
Sliding forward, I’m floored by our size difference when he has to lean down to press his nose to my belly.
The mighty Alpha takes a deep inhale before letting out a low growl. “Are these scent-blocking panties?”
His fingers coast over the thick material, rubbing lightly over my mound before moving lower.
“Y-yes.” The jeans around my ankles make me hobble as I try to spread my legs wider to get his fingers where I need them.
“I hate them.” Linc presses my seam before dipping his finger under the material to touch my wetness. The first caress is electric, but the panties are too tight.
“Destroy them,” I whine, completely at his mercy. He tears them off, leaving me breathless.
“Hands up, baby girl. I want you bare.” I follow his orders, raising my arms as he stands to his full height, grabbing the hem of my sweater.
The soft wool whispers up my back, leaving goosebumps in its wake as it clears my skin.
A rumble fills the room, and it takes me a moment to recognize Lincoln’s deep, calming purr.
My bra follows the sweater, and I’m happy to be rid of it.
All that’s left are my gloves, and he pauses.
“Take them off. You don’t need to hide from me. ”
It’s a thin scrap of material, but a big ask. Be bold. His eyes are filled with adoration and longing, begging me to be vulnerable. You can trust him. I slide them off, letting them fall on the pile of clothing.
“Good girl. You’re perfect. Every part of you.” His meaning isn’t lost on me, the praise making slick trickle down my inner thigh. Linc removes his cut, laying it on the couch, before lifting me and placing me on the smooth leather.
“What are you doing?” I ask, nearly swallowing my tongue, as he pulls his shirt over his head.
My man is all muscle with tattoos sneaking over the ridges and dips. He is every fantasy I didn’t know I had, and though I want to explore each tattoo, the deep V at his waist has my mouth going dry.
“Making you squirt all over my cut. I want the leather to be honeysuckle scented for the rest of my days.” This man’s taking scent-marking to a whole new level, and I love the idea of my claim clinging to the leather he wears so proudly.
“Now, spread those legs wide and let me see your perfect pussy.” He kneels on the floor, staring intently at the juncture between my thighs as I slowly open myself to his gaze.
Linc licks his lips. “You’re going to beg me to stop.”