Page 22 of Ruthless Rebel

“You fuck me so good,” I whimper, stroking my wet cock until I feel it pulse in my hand, and then I groan as long thick jets of cum coat my stomach as I fall apart beneath him.

“Fuck, Lo, you’re so fucking tight when you come for me,” he grits through his teeth as his dick practically rips me apart. “You take my cock so fucking good, you were fucking made to be mine.”

There is that word again. Mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

My cum is slick against my abs and hand and while I am still reeling from my orgasm, Lincoln releases my throat, grabs my hand and shoves my cum covered fingers into my mouth as he brings his lips to my ear. “Taste how hard I make you come when you are mine,” he whispers, before pulling back and slamming into me again and again, tipping his head back, and I can tell from the ridged set of his jaw that he is about to come himself.

I let my now clean fingers fall from my mouth with a wet plop, and reach up to stroke his stomach. “That’s it, Rebel, mark my ass with your cum and show me who I belong to,” I tease, desperate to have him fill me up, and my words have him snapping his head back down to mine.

An intensity burns in his stare that I’ve never seen before as he demands, “Say my name.” I must look slightly confused, because before I can answer he adds, “You want to take my cum, then say my name, tell me who owns you.”

I smirk, my ruthless rebel so silent and stoic except when he fucks, so I don’t make him wait for what he wants, what he needs. “Come for me, Lincoln,” I beg him, like the good boy I am. “Fill my ass with your cum, because it belongs to you, and becauseyou own me.”

The last three words hang in the air between us as he snaps his hips one last time before a loud moan erupts from the back of his throat as he finds his release. His movements slow as he continues to thrust in and out of me, milking himself so completely that my ass already aches for more, and when I reach up to pull him towards me, he snatches my hands in his and pins them to the bed beside my head.

Then he drags his tongue down my body, lapping up my release like a man starved, not letting a drop of my cum escape as I moan beneath him once more. I almost think he is done, but when he reaches my groin he slides down between my thighs and off the bed, licking my still half-hard cock clean, before pushing it out of the way and dragging his tongue down to my ass. His tongue laps against my hole, licking and cleaning every drop of his own cum until I am panting and breathless, especially when he lets his tongue slip inside, again not missing a drop, and I groan at the sensation.

Amusement stains his brow as he appears in front of me again, dropping down on top of me as he slowly caresses my cock once more. “Someone is needy today,” he comments dryly, and I only half focus on his words as his hand gently plays with my cock.

“I’m always needy for you,” I tell him truthfully, not caring how desperate I sound at this moment, but all he does is laugh as he rolls onto his back beside me.

I almost feel vulnerable at my admission until he whispers, “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

It’s with those words, and the thought of being his, that have me scrambling inside my sheets with a nod for him to follow. His hot, naked body collides with the back of mine as he pulls me into him, and I drift off to the sound of his breathing and the feelingof it on the nape of my neck.

When I wake up a little startled, confusion surrounds me as I take in the darkness now outside my windows, and the silent, warm body softly snoring behind me. I flick my eyes over my shoulder and find Lincoln sleeping deeply for once, a rare sight for him, and as much as I wish I could stay here and watch him forever, I have more pressing needs. My stomach growls in anticipation as I carefully climb out of bed, trying so hard not to wake him, and when I make it across the bedroom with him still sleeping peacefully, I take it as a huge success.

I slip into my walk-in closet to grab some clothes and then head to the bathroom to freshen up. I take my time in the shower, soaping up my body and erasing the stench of sex and sweat that was created earlier, much to my dismay. Once clean, I step out, wrapping a towel round my waist and head to the vanity where I placed my clothes. I drop down onto the stool there and smile when my eyes collide with the marks on my neck in the mirror. I have been well and truly marked as Lincoln’s and I fucking love it.

Once dressed, I plan on heading to grab Lincoln's discarded bag from by the door for when he wakes, but when I slip back into the bedroom, I find my bed already empty. Of course, I should have known that a twenty-minute shower was enough for him to slip away from me. The sleep he just had will probably last him a week and I laugh to myself as I head in search of him.

Aromas fill the living area as I round the corner and find Lincoln, standing in my kitchen with an array of ingredients littering my countertops and something that already smells delicious cooking on the stove.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” I say, closing the distance between us, and pulling him in for a kiss far too short for my liking, before appraising the pans in front of me with approval.

“My mom taught me when I was kid, it started with baking, then simple breakfasts, and I always watched her make family dinners for us,” he replies with a shrug, like it’s nothing. “I carried on when she was gone as a way to still feel connected to her, and now, I guess I just do it because I enjoy it.”

My eyes soften at the mention of his mom. I don’t know much about his childhood, but it’s not a secret that both his parents are dead. I asked Elle about it once and she just replied that if Lincoln wanted us to know then he would tell us, but I’ve never had the guts to ask.

“You never talk about your parents,” I say softly, hoping it might press him to open up a little, especially now we have labeled what we have as an actual relationship. I mean that’s what people do when they get together right? They get to know one another.

“So, neither do you,” he snaps back, not entirely cutting me off, but not really inviting me to ask more either.

“Because I don’t remember them, not really anyway.” I admit freely, knowing he isn’t talking about the parents I have now, no, he means my birth parents. “There are some images I can piece together, you know flashes of what feels like another life, but mostly I just don’t remember.”

I remember them being good people, they were happy and they loved me, but apart from that I don’t recall anything. Most people might pity me for that, but they don’t realize how lucky I am to have the parents I have now. Arthur and Helen Royton saved me, they gave me everything and more, and for that I will never be able to repay them, and I love them endlessly for it. So, no one should ever feel pity for me. Yes, I lost my parents, and I will miss them forever, but I will always be grateful for the parents I have now, my situation could have ended a lot worse.

“If I couldn’t remember, I would consider myself lucky,” he whispers, his solemn voice cutting into my thoughts, and the tone of it makes my heart want to break for whatever happened to him.

“You know you can talk to me right, you can tell me anything,” I tell him, lingering by his side and watching his every move, yet his stare remains unmoved, focused only on the meal he prepares for us.

“I thought your sister was the one training to be a shrink,” he grunts, and I think I’d laugh if he didn’t sound so defeated.

It’s why I push myself in between him and the stove, not caring about the heat burning at my back. I’d catch on fire for him if I had to. “I’m not trying to be your shrink, I’m trying to be your boyfriend, so why don’t you let me,” I implore, hoping he can hear the sincerity in my tone.

Our eyes remain locked in a stare off, until his hand reaches past my hip and turns down the stove, before pushing away from me, and just when I think he is going to put an end to this entire conversation, he says, “My mom died when I was eight years old.”

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