Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I don’t know how he knew what was going through my head—and maybe he didn’t. Maybe he could feel the change in my body—but in this moment, I know I did the right thing by coming here tonight. Trusting him with my body and mind.
Lincoln responds by pulling the other side of my dress and bra down and giving my other breast attention. I run my fingers through his hair as he removes my clothes and works his way down until he’s pressing a soft kiss to my lace-covered mound.
“Fuck, you smell like vanilla here too,” he murmurs. “Can I taste you now?”
“Yes,” I breathe, wanting nothing more than for him to put his mouth on my body some more.
Once he’s removed my panties, he lifts my leg onto his shoulder and starts to lick my center. He focuses on my clit, gently massaging circles on the swollen nub, and I let out a loud groan, loving the way his tongue feels on me. I’ve used a clit stimulator many times to get myself off, but it’s never felt like this. Soft yet firm. A slow climb higher and higher. The more he licks, the wetter I get. I can feel my orgasm cresting, but my body is fighting it, fighting the pleasure, as my mind wars with itself.
Pain. Pleasure.
Screams. Moans.
Fear. Trust.
“C’mon, Kitten,” Lincoln says, pulling me back into the present. “Come for me. Let go, and come all over my face.”
His words are my undoing. My body relaxes, allowing the pleasure to dominate, as the most intense orgasm takes over my body, waves of pleasure washing through me.
I’ve barely come down from my climax when I’m lifted and carried over to the bed. My back hits the soft mattress, and Lincoln’s mouth presses against mine. I revel in the taste of him, of the taste of me on him. I’m not sure when his clothes came off, but when he spreads my legs and begins to guide himself inside me, my hands wrap around his neck, the feel of his naked flesh under my fingertips.
He continues to kiss me, devour me, consume me, as he slowly enters me inch by delicious inch. I haven’t had anything inside me since that day, so it hurts, stings. To drown out the pain, I try to focus on Lincoln, on his scent, his taste, the way he’s kissing me, but I fear that my haunted past will continue to prevail by overshadowing the present.
I keep my eyes open, even though I can’t see anything, and pretend I can see his face. His strong jaw and Roman nose. His hazel eyes and his boyish, playful smile. It’s one of the things that drew me to him. His smile. He’s always happy, never lets anything bring him down. He doesn’t stress, let’s everything roll off his back.
Lincoln must feel the tension I’m emanating because he slows down, allowing me time to adjust to him as my body fights against itself.
“Breathe,” he murmurs against my lips. I do as he says, sucking in a harsh breath and then releasing it slowly. “That’s it,” he coaxes. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You feel so good.”
I wish I could say the same—that he feels good—but right now, all I feel is pain.
I continue to breathe through it, though, trusting in him to make this good. A couple months ago, I couldn’t even make out with a guy without freaking out, but tonight, I’ve already experienced my first orgasm that wasn’t self-induced. So, I’ll take that as a win.
When he’s all the way in, he starts to move. Little by little the pain begins to morph into pleasure as something deep inside me starts to build. My legs wrap around Lincoln’s waist, and he cradles me protectively in his arms. I pull his face back down to mine, needing to taste him, smell him. I need him surrounding me—in me, on me, all over me.
My release hits me hard, my entire body trembling as I scream out in pure ecstasy. Without meaning to, my eyes close, but instead of flashbacks hitting me, all I see is Lincoln.
Kissing me.
Touching me.
Consuming me.
I’m not sure if the force of my orgasm causes me to black out, but when I come down from my high and open my eyes, Lincoln is no longer on top of me.
I lie here for several seconds in the quiet darkness, wondering if I dreamt the entire thing, but then I hear shuffling. A moment later, there’s a dip in the bed, and strong hands are spreading my thighs. I jump at his touch, and he chuckles softly as warmth touches between my legs.
A washcloth. He’s cleaning me up. Taking care of me.
As he gently wipes me down, I choke up with emotion. I’m not sure why, after everything that’s taken place tonight, but the idea of him caring for me like this feels more intimate than anything else he’s done to me.