Chapter Five #3
I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles are white. "If I come in with you, I can't promise I'm going to behave. Not with you in that dress."
"Maybe I don't want you to behave," she whispers.
Fuck my life. Dirty little angels do exist. One is sitting beside me right now, offering me a glimpse of heaven.
I kill the engine and pocket the keys, my heart beating like a war drum. "Stay right there," I murmur, already climbing out. The cool air hits me in the face, but it doesn't cool me down any at all. If anything, it makes me hotter, more desperate to get her inside.
I stride around the side of the SUV, trying to remind myself to take it slow, that she doesn't trust easily, and that this is too important to fuck up.
I'm not sure my pep talk has any effect whatsoever when I help her out of the SUV, and her body brushes against mine.
My cock is rock hard. My heart is in my throat.
"Single mom," I growl as we stride toward the front of the store.
She peeks up at me, a question in her gaze.
"I was raised by a single mom. We survived on food stamps and store brands." I swallow. "The only reason I was able to afford UCLA was a scholarship."
"I didn't know that," Lilah whispers.
"Not many do. When you make it, people tend to forget where you came from.
I never forgot, though. You think I have an issue with strong women, but that couldn't be further from the truth, sweetness.
I was raised by one of the strongest. I admire the hell out of women.
If superheroes are real, they're women."
"Well, now I feel like a jerk."
"Don't. I'm not mad. I think it's fucking sexy when you light into me. Please, don't refrain on my behalf."
"I guess maybe I just got used to being judged for liking what I do," she says softly, shoving the key into the lock.
"I get defensive because there have been so many reasons to be defensive.
There have been a lot of men who walk through our doors who would prefer that a store like ours didn't exist. God forbid their wives read about—and enjoy reading about—sex and men who believe in a woman's dreams as hard as she does.
After a while, you just snap first because it's better than listening to all the demeaning, insulting shit they have to say. "
She walks through the doors before me, the little bell jingling. I step in beside her, allowing the weight of the door to drag it closed behind me. Most of the lights are off, leaving just enough near the door and windows to make anyone who were to break in visible from the outside.
"Fuck all of them," I murmur when she turns to face me.
"I'd rather not," she says, a hint of dry humor in her voice. "They probably like boring missionary sex with their crusty socks on and the lights off."
"As opposed to you and your Daddy kink."
"I do not have a Daddy kink!" she cries, smacking me across the chest.
I chuckle, grabbing her wrist in a gentle vise to pull her closer. "Liar," I whisper. "I read that fucking book today, sweetness. Every word. You loved it, didn't you?"
"Maybe," she says, the same thing she said earlier today.
"You like the thought of trusting someone so completely that you can just hand control to them and know they'll give you exactly what you need."
"I think most women like that thought, Lincoln," she says, her gaze earnest. "We're expected to be everything for everyone and conquer the world.
It gets exhausting sometimes. The thought of just shutting it all off and not having to think, plan, or be in charge for even a little while is a tempting lure.
But that doesn't mean we all want to call our partners Daddy or be a little.
Sometimes, we just want to be the center of someone else's universe for a little while. "
I tug her closer, until we're sharing the same sliver of air. "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
I smile at her suspicious tone. "Because I'm going to make you the center of my universe for a little while, and you're going to sit back and enjoy it."
Her gaze flickers across my face, her eyes wide. "There are windows."
"Not by that couch I've been fantasizing about bending you over."
Her eyes immediately flicker in that direction, her cheeks flushing. "It is a nice couch."
"It'd look even better with you draped over it."
She groans softly, and that needy sound does it for me.
I growl wordlessly, my lips crashing into hers. She tastes like chocolate from the milkshake she drank, that and something that's all her. I haul her closer, my tongue flicking at the seam of her lips until she opens for me, letting me in.
There is no such thing as slow when she's pressed to me, her tits crushed against my chest, and her hands in my hair.
I devour her mouth, licking inside to steal her taste and her breath.
My hands run down her sides and then up, then back down to her perfect ass.
It looks incredible in her dress. It feels even better beneath my greedy hands.
We stumble across the store toward the sofa, tripping all over one another and the bookshelves. Books fall around us, a wreck of romance and spicy scenes that don't even compare to the feelings boiling through me right now.
"Lincoln," she whimpers against my lips, shuddering in my arms.
I spin her around, anchoring her back to my chest as my hands glide up her body. She moans, arching into me when I palm her breasts. I nip the side of her throat, right where her pulse races beneath her ear. She smells so fucking good right here—like orange blossoms and vanilla.
"I want you naked, sweetness."
"Yes," she whispers, her head falling back against my chest.
I don't strip her immediately. Instead, I play with her tits, pinching and tweaking her nipples until she's shifting restlessly, her ass grinding against my cock like she can't stay still.
When she's panting my name, I slide my hands lower, grabbing the hem of her dress. I work it up her body slowly, taking my sweet time unwrapping her. My knuckles glide along her soft skin, making her shiver.
"I love how responsive you are," I murmur, nuzzling her throat. "And how soft. It's sexy as hell, Lilah."
She groans softly.
I tug the dress off over her head, letting it fall to the floor.
And then my hands are on her again, skin to skin.
She's soft everywhere, and so damn smooth.
I think I could touch her for hours and not grow bored.
Every part of her is fascinating—like the little lines on her thighs and belly, and the way she quivers when I stroke her waist.
I tug the cups of her bra down, pinching her nipples.
Her soft cry echoes around the store, making my dick throb. Christ, there's no sweeter sound than her moaning for me.
One hand drifts lower, down her belly, and into her panties.
"Goddamn," I groan, biting the side of her throat when I feel how wet she is already. She's soaked clean through her panties. "You're so greedy for it, sweetness."
"I know," she pants, squirming against me. "Please."
I part her slit with a knuckle, pressing my thumb to her clit. She feels so fucking good against me. I might not survive this. Not when she's as sweet as she is. Not when she's as wet as she is. Not when I want her this badly.
"Spread your legs, sweetness. Give me room to work," I murmur, grinding my thumb against her clit while circling her opening with one finger. She obeys instantly, sliding her legs apart.
I reward her by sinking my finger into her.
Her pussy clenches around it, and she cries out.
"Goddamn, I love that sound, Lilah. Keep making it for me," I growl, adding another finger. I pump them in and out, twisting and scissoring them, trying to drive her wild. I want her coming nonstop tonight, so she doesn't have time to think or do anything other than enjoy.
She's already on the verge, her inner muscles spasming around my fingers, clenching like they're trying to pull me deeper. I flick her clit, adding another finger to stretch her, and she goes over with a sharp cry, her nails embedded in my forearms.
She shakes and shivers and moans her way through it, making me so fucking hard it hurts. So desperate, I can't think.
I spin her around, easing her down onto the sofa. She stares up at me, her eyes wide and dilated.
"Need to taste you," I growl, dropping to my knees between her legs. My fingers hook into the sides of her panties, dragging them down her legs, over one stiletto and then the other. I tuck them into my pocket instead of tossing them, determined to keep them.
She blushes when I spread her wider, my eyes locked on her pussy. She's bare and dripping, so fucking pink and juicy. "Christ, baby," I breathe, pressing my forehead to her thigh. "I just want to wreck it, just feast and fuck until you can't stand not having me all over you."
"Please," she groans, tugging at my hair, trying to get my mouth on her.
I run my lips up her inner thigh, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work. Not when I can taste her already. Not when I can smell her.
I groan and give up, yanking her ass off the edge of the sofa before burying my face in her pussy.
"Lincoln!" she shouts, bucking against my lips.
I hold her in place, eating her loud and messy. My tongue is everywhere, and so are my lips. I want to drown in her, just cover myself in her so I'm breathing her every minute of the day.
She tastes like my future.
I sink two fingers inside her, fucking her with them. And then I add a third, stretching her…wrecking her. Her sobs spill out around us, filling the store with the sounds of her pleasure.
She shatters with my name on her lips, coming so hard she convulses. And when she does, I realize just how thoroughly fucked I am because I already want more. So goddamn badly, I know that I'll never get enough of her.