my ass isn’t on the floor at this point.
Lincoln pulls back. “I have a condom in here somewhere.”
Right. How could I have forgotten that part? I nod, and he searches for a condom inside a tackle box on the floor. I fight off a smile. Is it weird that he keeps condoms in a tackle box?
Maybe don’t answer that because I know the answer.
Once he finds it, he gets it on and then positions himself between my legs. With his hands beside my hips, but not touching me, I feel the head of his cock at my entrance.
Oh, so nice. But… he doesn’t enter me. I will him with my glare to move. Push forward, damn it.
He doesn’t.
I glance at his chest, take note of his breathing and the way he’s not looking at me. “Why’d you stop?” What I really want to ask is what the hell is wrong with you, and also scream in his face, “Speak!”
Naturally, he says nothing. But he does push forward, finally, and enters me. All is forgiven. Heat courses through my body and I welcome it.
He swallows, a quick inhale, and then his mouth is on mine again, and it’s everything I want and more. His movements are harsh and frenzied, as though he wants to get it over with quickly, or maybe he wants it just as badly as me. Whatever the reason, I go with it and meet him with just as much intensity. Quickies are good, right?
But… I’ve never had a quickie with someone like Lincoln. Though his movements are hasty and hurried, there’s a tenderness to it I don’t expect of him. Especially in his kisses. Not so much his hands, but his lips, they express a softness I’m eager for.
He grabs my leg behind my knee, driving his hips into mine. I want to moan his name at how good it feels. The stubborn side of me doesn’t want to give myself away that easily. I want to make him curious about me too. If I say nothing, maybe he might make more of an effort?
I lift my eyes to his. He’s not looking at me. He’s focused on the space between us where we’re connected. Briefly, and I do mean brief, I begin to wonder if I trimmed it up down there recently. Was it yesterday that I shaved? Maybe Monday? Shit. When was it?
Lincoln shifts his position, grunting and driving himself into me harder. He hits deep inside me, a sharp pain registering inside. I squirm and the corner of his mouth twitches, as if maybe me squirming in pain is what he likes. Hmm. I go from a married man to one that wants to tie me up, or worse, use those bait hooks on me. I swear, if he pierces my skin with anything, I’m outta here.
Well, okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’d have to at least see how it feels. Maybe it’s like sweet and salty. I might like pain with my pleasure because I’m a big fan of pretzels in my ice cream.
Despite my best effort to remain undeterred, or uninterested, it doesn’t quite work out that way for me. Every touch from him sparks an intensity inside me. I can barely keep my eyes open. My nipples are so hard I think they might chip off, and I’m wet enough the sounds coming from between us are bordering on embarrassing. I begin to shudder beneath him, from the cold and his touches, and his grip remains the same. Forceful.
I moan softly, wanting to see what his reaction might be.
He doesn’t look, but his body reacts. He twitches inside me, his cock becoming impossibly hard.
He leans in again, our chests touching, fire meeting ice, and then we’re kissing as hard and deep as he thrusts. The kisses, oh, man. They’re lips sucking, tongues wild, the kind you feel in the pit of your stomach and gives you that little tickle.
And then he breaks it, breathing heavily.
Our foreheads touch, and then, maybe because I haven’t said anything to him, he glances at me. His expression is filled with emotion. Carnal desire, lust, and so much more. I move my hands to his hair, gripping a handful between my fists. His hands remain on the couch, the only separation between us is him holding himself up. And then he gives me his weight. All of it. His back hunches, a shudder working through him. His kisses become frantic, as does his movements.