Page 51 of Lillian

“I felt that,” he laughs at me, walks over to his bed, and drops me unceremoniously on the plush surface. Before I even get the chance to scold him, he whips off his T-shirt in record time, leaving me to drool—stare—at his broad shoulders, defined pecs, and six-pack.

“That’s not playing fair,” I mutter, not looking away from his stomach, eyes dropping down to the tent in his sweatpants. My mouth starts to water in anticipation, and suddenly, all I want to do is take him into my mouth, to taste all of him.

Scrambling to my hands and knees, I crawl down to where he stands at the end of the bed and slide off it. I grip his thighs to twist him and push him down on the bed until he’s sitting on the edge where I’ve got the perfect angle from my knees. Luckily, the bedrooms, at least, have large, fluffy area rugs overlaid on the marble.

With one hard yank, his sweatpants are off, and I throw them across the room. His dick slaps against his belly, the tip an angry red color. I run my hands slowly up each of his thighs, staring at what’s mine. It jumps under my gaze, or my touch, I’m not sure.

“Lillian,” Lincoln grits out. “Don’t play with me.”

From beneath my lashes, I peek up at him and smile sweetly. “I would never. I’m just appreciating the view.” I grip the base of his cock and give a few teasing pumps.

“For the love of God, woma–” I lean forward and take him in my mouth, cutting off his sentence.

The tip of him hits the back of my throat, and I suck hard. Typically, I would start soft, but I want to drive him out of his mind. Partly as athank youfor all that he’s done for me and for Grace already, but mostly because I love the control I have over him, and it turns me on as much as it does him to be able to bring him pleasure.

“Woah, Lil, easy,” he grunts as I bring my hand up to cup his balls and start playing with them softly, in contrast with the fast, hard way I’m taking him into the mouth. Each pass has him hitting the back of my throat, and I have to concentrate on not gagging. “Lil, stop,” he says as I feel his balls pull up. So I ease off. Not stopping, just slowing down. I use my other hand to hold him steady at his base as he pops out of my mouth, and I lick stripes up the underside of his cock like it’s my own personal lollipop.

Damn, if it doesn’t taste just as good.

“God, that feels so good,” he moans. When his thighs unclench and he relaxes under my touch, I start up the hard and fast pace again. After a few moments, I feel his balls pull up and then back off once more. When he figures out what I’m doing and groans, the sound is half-pleasure, half-pain, it makes me chuckle. The vibrations make him grunt and thrust up into my mouth on instinct. “I don’t want to come down your throat.” He bends down and hauls me up, leaning all the way back as he does until I’m straddling his waist.

It puts me in a perfect position to feel him pressed up against my sex, so I grind down. I’m already wet, and I slide against him effortlessly.

“That’s right, baby,” he mutters as his hands land on my hips. “Take what you need. Use me.”

“Oh God.” His words stoke the flame inside me even higher, and pleasure courses through me as I rub my clit against him.

“Wait,” he grounds out, like the words physically hurt him to say, but I stop. “We didn’t talk about it before, but are you on birth control?”

The sliver of self-doubt evaporates, and I laugh. “Yes, Lincoln. I’m a mom already, but I’m not ready for a second one just yet.”

“Then lift up,” he grins at me, and I do. He positions his tip at my entrance, and I sink down on him. Lincoln’s jaw tightens, and his muscles strain deliciously as I bottom out.

“I missed you,” I breathe, and start to move my hips. Lincoln offers me his hands, and I thread my fingers through his, my own looking tiny in comparison. But I use them as leverage and bounce up and down on his cock, taking my pleasure.

I swirl my hips until I find that oh-so-sweet spot leaned all the way back. The angle is deeper, and he drags against me in the best way, so I let go of his hands and lean back to grab onto his thighs.

The angle is harder to move now. Lincoln takes over, plants his heels on the bed, and thrusts up into me. Still leaned back, he slams into me in the perfect place.

“Yes!” I moan. “God, yes. Right there. Please,” I beg him, and he thrusts up again, drawing a whimper from my lips. It’s so good, it almost feels painful. Half of me is about to ask him to stop, the other half screaming formore, more, harder, faster.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, sweat starting to bead on his forehead and chest. Where I’m gripping his thighs starts to become too slick to hold on to. But he doesn’t slow his assault. Over and over, he pumps up into me, wrecking me. “You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

All I can do is nod, I’m beyond words at this point. He holds a relentless pace, and I feel my legs start to shake. Warmth travels from my core out across my body as I climb higher and higher.

Lincoln, sensing how close I am, takes one of his hands from my hips and thumbs circles on my clit. “That’s right, baby. Let go. Good girl,” he growls, and his words are my undoing. I detonate, pulsing around him. I smack his hand away from my over-stimulated clit as I ride out one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had.

When I start to come down, my limbs feel heavy, and I slump against him, both our chests sweaty.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Lincoln rolls us until I’m on my back now, and his large body is hovering over mine. “You okay?” he asks me.

In answer, I muster the strength to lean up and kiss him. He follows me as I drop back down, deepening the kiss, and I open for him. Our tongues tangle together while Lincoln lifts one of my knees to my chest and grinds into me.

“You fit me so perfectly, don’t you?” he asks me, looking me in the eye with an intensity that has a small aftershock pulsing through me, and I flutter around him. He grunts. “Of course you do. Do you know how fucking beautiful you look right now?”

I shake my head, not breaking eye contact with him, and he grins at me.

“Painfully beautiful,” he tells me, and an echo of a memory flashes through me. From a time four years ago when he would tell me the same thing. “And you’re all mine.”

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