Page 31 of Lillian

Another slow thrust in, another slow pull out.

I feel every inch of him inside me, filling me so perfectly. Like no other man has been able to. We fit together like puzzle pieces.

Heat starts to build in my legs. Gradually, with an intensity to match the way he’s staring at me.

My chest starts to heave as my breathing grows heavier. Little pricks of moisture start to form in my eyes, and it causes Lincoln’s to shudder briefly.

The next snap of his hips is harder. Still not fast, but more aggressive. My other leg wraps around him, hitched higher on his sides so he hits deeper.

Another hard thrust forward and I slide up the bed a little.

“Fuck,” he grunts, beads of sweat trickling down his temple. “Fuck,” he says again, building in speed, and I lift my hips, starting to meet each thrust.

“Oh God,” I moan and squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the cliff just out of reach.

“Eyes open,” he grits out, not pausing his movements.

My eyes pop open and lock on his again. Approval shines in them.

He’s moving fast now, each thrust dragging along my G-spot. Each grunt like a shot of the strongest aphrodisiac.

“That’s right, baby,” he moans as I start to tighten around him. “Let go.”

And I do, shattering around him and screaming his name.

Seconds later, his hips stutter, and he groans as he comes, too.

We lay there basking in the intensity of what I’d only ever describe as making love. There wasn’t any fucking about it.

Soul-shattering and beautiful.

“Fuck, I love you,” he murmurs, breathing heavy in my ear.

Every muscle in my body locks up.

I love you.

“Wait,” he rushes out as he realizes what he just said. “Lil, stop. Don’t freak out. Let me explain.”

Explain.

Explain what?

How he couldn’t say it four years ago, but can now?

“Get off,” I whisper.

“Lil,” he pleads.

“Get. off,” I grit out with more conviction, and he scrambles off me like I just told him I have an STD.

The covers are thrown back as I jump out of bed, too, and make a frantic search for my clothes.

Lincoln stands there like a naked Adonis with his hands held up. “Lil, please. Just hold on.”

“No,” is all I say as I clip on my bra and shimmy into my dress, zipping it up only halfway when the zipper gets stuck.

“Jesus Christ, woman, stop getting dressed for two seconds.” He pulls at his hair, eyes wild.

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