Chapter 25 #2
Grabbing me by the waist, he flips me over so I’m on my knees with my tits pressed to the floor and my ass pointed up at the ceiling. His mouth finds my opening from where he’s now kneeled behind me.
His warm palm connects with the curve of my ass. “Fuck, yeah,” he groans in a voice so deep he hardly even sounds like himself. “Attagirl. That’s my filthy fucking future wife.”
Those words do something to me. They turn me into a version of myself I don’t recognize. I rock my hips and he works his mouth and when my body can’t take any more, I start to unravel.
I’m shaking and sweating, my moans absorbed into the panties stuffed into my mouth. My knees are swaying beneath me. Lincoln’s firm grip on my waist is the only thing keeping me upright.
When I hit my peak, I swear my spirit leaves my body and I collapse in a pile of limbs on the carpet.
Lincoln scrapes me off the floor, dragging me into his arms as he props himself up against the couch. I curl against him, my brain too muddled to form coherent thoughts. Cheek smushed against his hard chest, my jaw falls slack and the panties finally tumble out of my mouth.
He clasps my jaw, lifting my face and bringing our lips back together. My earthy scent is all over his mouth and we lick at each other, this kiss greedier than all our other kisses before.
Lincoln’s hand slips inside his pants, pulling his erection out of his boxers. When he starts to stroke himself, my fingers cover his. I squeeze and tug the long, pulsing shaft, watching the way his jaw clenches and the veins in his neck throb at my touch.
“Feels so fucking good,” he murmurs.
His manhood is warm and rock hard in my grip, his hips moving in a desperate motion. I climb into his lap, rubbing the wetness of my pussy all over his steely erection.
He drops his head against the seat of the couch and fights a groan. He wants to fuck me so bad.
Grinning, I lean down, licking the length of his throat. “You’re so hot when you’re suffering,” I whisper by his ear.
He grips my jaw and kisses me until I’m breathless all over again. “Put me out of my misery, Jules,” he all but begs. “Let me feel your pussy squeezing around my cock.”
“It would be my pleasure.” My inner thigh muscles clench.
Then Lincoln roughly shakes his head with a groan. “Wait. I don’t have a condom…” he mutters. There’s so much pain in the statement.
“I do.” Reaching over his shoulder, I dig into my purse that’s still sitting on the couch. I retrieve a foil packet from between the bank cards and receipts in my wallet. I unwrap it and Lincoln’s hooded eyes watch with rapt attention as I roll it down his length.
Massaging the back of my neck, he groans again. “Y’know, we shouldn’t be doing this…” he grits out. “Clause three of our contract says—”
Before he can utter one more word, I grab my soiled panties and shove them into his mouth. I don’t want to hear any of his damn excuses.
“A little late to be noble, Lincoln. We’ve both stomped all over that contract and you know it.”
With one hand, I clutch his shoulder for balance. With my other hand, I grip his long, thick cock at the base. I position my entrance over his crown, allowing him to breach me. Just barely. Torturing us both.
“Fuck me, future husband. Fuck me exactly like you want to.”
There’s a predatory glint in his eyes when he spits out my panties and grabs my hips in both of his hands. He slams me down without a second of hesitation.
I see stars in a rainbow of colors as he fills me, the head of his cock lodging itself somewhere between my vital organs.
Nine inches and a quarter. I feel the pleasurable ache of every last millimeter.
“Shit. Wow,” I squeak out as his muscle-corded arms wrap around me. He holds me so tightly against his chest. Like he’s struggling to restrain his primal urges.
“Are you okay? Was that too rough?”
I drop my face into the curve of his neck and absorb the swirling sensations of having him inside of me for the first time. The pain. The pleasure. The stretch. The shivers. All of it.
It’s not too rough. It’s perfect. After wanting this for so long, it’s absolutely perfect.
My fingernails dig into his shoulder muscles. “Fuck me…” is all I can mutter as I begin to gingerly move my hips.
Sweaty skin sliding against sweaty skin. Quiet moans chasing frantic bites and kisses. I ride him with desperation and he fucks me roughly from below.
His arms stay locked around me as we grind together. “Dammit, you’re so tight,” he grits out, his voice crackling in the dark room.
And every time I start to grow too loud, Lincoln’s mouth covers mine. And when my internal walls begin to contract and quake, his big hands hold me in place. He fucks me hard, making my tits bounce and my brain rattle inside my skull.
Brain damage. That makes sense. That explains why I’m here on the floor, fucking this man I should be keeping at arm’s length. It explains why my heart is peeking its head over the fence when it should be locked up behind an iron gate.
This was never part of the deal. Yet I wouldn’t take it back if I could.
“Squeeze your tits together for me,” Lincoln instructs.
I do as I’m told, cupping my tingling globes and pressing them together.
He groans. Leaning down, he buries his face against my breasts.
“So good. So fucking good. I can’t hold back much longer, Jules.” He suckles one nipple and then the next as we bounce and grind together. “I need you to come. I need you to come for me now.”
I find his wrist, bringing his hand between my legs. “Make me…” I order him as I continue to ride.
When his thumb and forefinger squeeze and tug gently on my clit, pleasure shoots up my spine, combusting inside my skull.
LINCOLN! I catch my scream right before it barrels past my lips.
The orgasm unfolds in waves of fire, one after the other, until my entire body is a screaming inferno.
That’s when I feel him jerk inside me. His cock jerks and jerks as every one of his limbs goes perfectly taut and still, holding me captive. He explodes.
When it’s all over, my body surrenders, falling lax against his chest. His head drops back against the couch once more but his arms remain loosely around my waist. My ear pressed to his chest, I count every one of his jagged heartbeats.
Suddenly, I’m so tired. I don’t want to keep fighting the way I feel. I just want to melt into him. More and more, I just want to give myself over to this man. Completely.
His big palm tenderly strokes down the back of my head. “Jules…”
The way he says my name this time is jarring. I don’t like that tone. I don’t like it at all.
I peel my head off his chest, trying to read his eyes. All I see is regret. And I hate it.
“We shouldn’t have done that…” he grits out. “We got carried away. We…we shouldn’t have done that.”
Shame rolls up my chest like a tsunami wave, making my eyeballs tingle.
I’m already clambering off his lap and clumsily pulling my dress over my head. “I should get to bed.”
“Jules…” He reaches for my wrist but I twist out of his grasp. Because there’s no fucking way I’m letting this asshole see me cry.
His hands drop limply by his sides as I squirm away. He doesn’t fight for me.
Nobody ever does.
I gather all my things into my arms. My jacket. My purse. My chewed-up panties. Oh, god.
Lincoln sits there on the floor, disheveled and freshly-fucked. He watches me with an unmoving expression as I stumble around the room. That expression tells me that this was a mistake, and it’s never happening again.
Jules—I…I care about you. Psht. Right.
I’m so humiliated. I’m such a fool. Here I was, letting all my guards down and catching feelings for this guy. But for him, nothing has changed. To Lincoln, this is still just a business deal.
As it should be. As we agreed to, I remind myself.
This is my fault. I practically just let this man use me as a warm hole to get his dick wet. And now, I hate myself a little bit.
I finally understand why I was so hesitant that first night that I brought Lincoln back to my place. Why I pretended to fall asleep when I wanted to get tangled up with him instead.
Because deep down, I always knew that he was the one man who could make me feel like this.
Bare. Unmasked. Exposed. Inadequate.
Deep down I knew that if I ever let him fuck me, I’d end up feeling like this.
Looks like Lincoln is right after all. This was such a mistake.
I turn for the stairs like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.
“Good night, Jules,” he calls after me.
Is this a fucking joke?!
“Yeah. Sure.” I don’t bother looking back.