Page 28 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
His fingers delved deeper. Tight but wet, and already quivering as if she was on the edge of orgasm.
“I am ready.” Her hands abandoned his shirt and dug into his hair, gripping both sides of his head. “I was ready nine years ago. Take me.”
Fuck. He should wait, should make this last. But he was ready too—and he no longer had the willpower to wait. He was dying for her.
Dragging his hand away from her breast was difficult, but necessary as he reached for his pants with shaking fingers and impatiently unbuttoned and unzipped. Taking his hand from her core was even harder, but the condom in his wallet wasn’t going to put itself on, so he took care of that as quickly as possible, tugged Claire’s dress up and her thong to the side, bent his knees, and lined up his cock. Claire moaned at the feel of him at her entrance, her head rolling against the wall, eyes tightly shut. She looked like a woman in agony, her unfulfilled hunger as excruciating as his own.
“Look at me, Claire.”
She panted. Her eyes opened, gaze locking on his as she rocked her opening against his cock, demanding he enter. “Now, Lincoln.”
“Now.” He surged forward.
Claire’s wail became a scream as his thick cock bottomed out inside her. He stopped there, giving her time to adjust. Only when her breath let out and she began to rock her hips did he reach down and grab her other leg. Pinning her to the wall with his body, he tugged her leg up and hooked both knees at his hips. “Lock your legs behind me.”
He felt her ankles cross, her heels dig into his ass. That push and the tilt of her pelvis allowed him in even deeper.
Claire’s breath choked off in her throat. A little laugh escaped, puffing her breath against his wet lips. “I knew you were big, but God, Lincoln…”
His laugh was pretty strained as well. “What a nice thing to say.”
She grunted. “I’ll have less nice things to say if you don’t move.”
He nipped her bottom lip, licked away the tiny pain. “Yes, ma’am.” Her plump ass filled his hands as he gripped her, then lifted slightly to give himself room to begin a slow surge back and forth, in and out, feeling Claire’s body gripping his cock like a vise. Coating himself in her cream until the glide of his cock eased and his speed picked up. His thrusts got harder. Each time he bottomed out, he tilted his pelvis, grinding against her clit. Immediately Claire tightened on him, her breath going hard and fast and high.
Fuck, she felt good. Better than good. Too good to hold himself back. This time would be fast, and he craved being able to suck her nipples and press his tongue into her mouth like he was pressing into her body, but right now was all about the race to the finish and being able to breathe. Claire panted with every thrust as he got rougher, until they were banging into each other and the pleasure was shooting higher and higher and higher every time her body engulfed him. Tiny grunts escaped as he filled her, feeling her tighten around him every single time until he could barely shove his way inside. And then came the thrust that had her detonating. Claire went stiff and her legs clamped over his hips and a gush of cream flooded the base of his cock. Claire’s cries hit the ceiling.
The feel of her clamping down, the flutter of her orgasm against his cock sent him past the point of no return. He shoved inside, high and hard, and held, his cock thumping against her cervix as he released jet after jet until he thought the condom would rip from holding it all.
And if he wished that barrier wasn’t between them, that he could be skin to skin in this moment, nothing between their bodies at all? Well, there would be time to consider that later. For now, he wanted to get Claire into her bed and do this all over again.
Thirteen
The body that lay in Claire’s usually-empty-except-for-her bed jerked lightly against her back, bringing her to abrupt awareness. Lincoln. He was a heavy bulk behind her, curved around her, his body longer than hers, wider, heavier. That weight had felt like heaven pressing her into the bed last night. How had she managed to sleep so soundly with him in her bed, to miss the hours of his warm body protecting hers from all nightmares?
Lincoln jerked again, a huff of breath hitting the back of her head. While protecting her from nightmares, it appeared he was having his own.
His hand was flat against her belly, pulling her backward against him. She laid her hand on top of his, beginning a soothing back-and-forth rhythm across his fingers, hoping to reach him even in the depths of sleep.
A moan filtered out between them, but not one of pleasure—Lincoln was in pain, wherever his dream mind had taken him. Her heart clinched hard, hating that he was somewhere she couldn’t reach, facing something she couldn’t help him face.
“Lincoln.” Moving slowly, she eased onto her back, then her opposite side, until she could see his face in the pre-dawn light. His features were tense, pain etching lines into his handsome face. What did he dream about that made him so unhappy, this man with the golden touch who seemed to have everything he could possibly want?
“Lincoln?”
He sucked in a gasp. His hand tightened against her back where it now rested, digging deep. Hanging on for dear life.
“Lincoln, you need to wake up.” She raised a hand to lightly cup his face, hating that she might scare him but knowing he needed to wake. “I’m right here, and it’s time for you to wake up.”
His beautiful eyes snapped open, their blue-gray color nothing more than dark circles in the dim room. She couldn’t read awareness or understanding there. She stroked her thumb across the sharp jaw that had always made her swoon. “Time to wake up.”
Lincoln’s entire body went tense against her, but he drew in a ragged breath, and she knew realization was finally clicking on in his brain. She kept stroking, kept murmuring, giving him time to come online, to remember where he was, where they were, and why. After a long few moments the fingers digging into her back eased and Lincoln relaxed against her.
“I’m sorry.” The words were husky, rough, sending tingles down her spine. “I woke you, didn’t I?”
“Probably not.” She eased her hand down to his naked chest, spraying her fingers to take in as much expanse as she possibly could. Warm male skin, crisp chest hair, and a slowly steadying heartbeat that reassured her more than anything else. “I’m usually waking up about now anyway. Bakers work early, you know.”
He tilted his head up, checking out the window, probably trying to figure out the time. “Which is exactly why you deserve every last second of sleep.” His hand left her back, and she mourned the loss as he brought it to his face and rubbed roughly up and down.
