by T. K. Leigh
I run my tongue over my lips, my heart hammering in my chest as I pause. I may be on my knees, but I’ve never felt so powerful. When I slide my tongue along his length before taking him into my mouth, tension rolls off him.
“Damn, Pixie…” He digs his fingers into my scalp as he begins pumping into me, his rhythm slow at first. “You have some mouth on you, don’t you? I knew that about you the instant you went off on me at the bar, but this…” His grip on my hair tightens as he wraps his hand around it, pulling it. So hungry. So desperate. So determined. “This is something I only fantasized about.”
His hold becomes more forceful, guiding my head. I swirl my tongue around his tip, savoring the taste of pre-cum before relaxing my throat, taking him even deeper.
“Fuck,” he groans, on the brink of unravelling. He drives harder into me, then releases my hair, suddenly stepping back.
“Wha—” I begin, but I’m soon interrupted.
“Get on the bed.”
I arch a single brow, confused why he pushed away when he was seconds from his release.
“Now, Chloe,” he demands.
I scramble to my feet and hurry toward the bed, scooting up to the headboard. I stare at him, expecting him to join me, but he doesn’t. Not right away. He simply admires me. I grab the duvet to cover myself, but he shakes his head.
“Don’t. Let me look at you.”
I swallow hard, feeling exposed, but I follow his command, keeping my arms to my sides, allowing him to examine every inch of me. His admiration gives me an added boost of confidence and I prop my legs up, spreading them, an invitation to see even more of me.
His green eyes darkening, he stalks toward the bed, his steps deliberate, drawn-out, measured. When he lowers himself onto the mattress, he rests his elbows by my head and finds my lips, his kiss sweet and addicting, at complete odds with the way he just fucked my mouth. I fear this strange dichotomy will be my undoing. As much as I love being spontaneous, I prefer being able to read people, determine their next move. With Lincoln, I never know what he has planned, what his intentions are.
He moves along my jawline, down my collarbone, hovering over my alert nipple. I squirm, bracing for his touch. Desperate for his touch.
“Something you need, Pixie?” His voice is deep and soft.
“Yes.”
“And what’s that?”
I lock eyes with him. “For you to taste me.”
“With pleasure.” When he covers my breast with his mouth, I throw my head back, my body fusing to the mattress. “With immense pleasure.”
His teeth tug on my nipple, his tongue circling it, driving me wild. I’m not sure how much more of this teasing, this buildup, this foreplay I can take before I explode. I’m on edge as it is. I’ve been on edge all day. Hell, all weekend. Now isn’t the time for teasing. I’m already at my breaking point.
As if able to read my thoughts, he traces soft, tantalizing lines along the curve of my breasts, down my stomach, circling my belly button before settling between my thighs. He hooks his fingers into my panties, and I lift my hips to allow him to lower them down my legs. Instead, he grabs my ass, propping me up. I furrow my brow, unsure what he’s doing. But before I can utter a single syllable, his mouth covers my panties, the warmth of him against me driving me crazy. My underwear could be a pane of bulletproof glass instead of just a flimsy piece of fabric, for all I care. It’s still a very unwelcome barrier.
“Please,” I moan as he continues licking and sucking on me through my panties.
“Something I can help you with?”
“Yes.” I narrow my eyes. “I need your mouth on me.”
“It is on you.”
“No. On my skin. No panties.”
He studies me for a moment, then shakes his head. “I told you before that all your orgasms belong to me tonight, did I not?”
“You did,” I exhale, desperate for release, to have him consume every inch of me.
“That means I get to decide exactly how you come. And I want you to come like this.” He brings his mouth back to me, sucking and nibbling, and I melt into it, moving with the rhythm he sets. I have to admit, there’s something incredibly erotic about this.
It doesn’t take long for that familiar sensation to bubble in my core. My muscles tense as I pulse against him with more urgency. He moans, the vibration pushing me higher and higher. Then he scrapes his teeth on my clit, sucking, and I scream, waves of ecstasy washing over me as I come undone, riding out one of the most intense orgasms for what feels like hours, but is probably only a minute or two.
When I finally start to return to earth, he meets my eyes and smirks, hooking his fingers into my panties and sliding them down my legs. Then he returns to me, burying his mouth between my thighs. I exhale in utter bliss, savoring in how expertly he tastes me, his tongue drawing out my orgasm even longer.
“Fuck, you’re wet.”
“It’s what you do to me.” I lower my hand, toying with my clit, spreading my juices around. Bringing my finger to my mouth, I suck on it, recalling how much it turned him on before. And that’s all it takes to turn him on again. He grabs my hips, his movements quick as he flips me onto my stomach. His arm snakes under my waist and he props me onto my knees.
He leans over me, his chest hair tickling my back. “Is this okay? Having you from behind?”
“Y-yes,” I stammer.
While I prefer being on top so I can be the one in control, I’ll take Lincoln however he wants. This position is probably better anyway. I won’t have to look him in the eyes. I’ll be able to stay detached. I’ll be able to walk away and carry on with my life when the blackout is over.
“Good.” He straightens himself and steps off the mattress. I watch as he grabs his shorts, pulling a condom from his wallet.
Not saying a word, he returns to the bed and grasps my head, forcing my eyes forward once more. I don’t argue. Don’t protest. Don’t return my gaze to his. I stare at the headboard, every noise putting me more on edge.
Finally, the bed dips and I feel his erection against me, teasing me. I close my eyes, rocking back into him.
“You’re greedy, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I bury my head into the pillow.
“Tell me what you want.” He inches himself inside. I sigh, bracing for him to push the rest of the way. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls out, waiting for my response.
“I want you to fuck me,” I pant, aching for him.
My desperate plea ringing in the air, he slams into me. Both of us still as he fills me to the hilt, savoring this sensation of fullness that’s so new, so unexpected, yet so satisfying. He exhales, as if also surprised at how incredible it feels.
Then he covers my body with his, his hands gliding up my arms, his fingers linking with mine. When he moves, gently at first, I sigh, matching his rhythm. He kisses my shoulder blade, skating his teeth against my skin.
“And for the record, I’m not fucking you, Chloe.”
“Then what do you call this?”
“Possession, plain and simple.”
I moan at his gravelly voice, losing myself in this erotic moment.
“Possessing your mind, your soul…” He clamps his teeth onto my neck, pain pulsing through me momentarily before being replaced by the unmatched pleasure building from his measured movements. “Your body.”
“Oh god…” I ball my hands into tighter fists, my grip on his fingers intertwined with mine growing stronger. I bury my head into the pillow, biting down on it.
I can honestly say I’ve never been with a man like Lincoln, a man so practiced in the art of seduction. Sex is supposed to be an act that tantalizes your senses, hypnotizes your mind, captures your heart, breathes life into your soul. But not for me. I’ve made sure of that. Until now.
He moves with greater urgency, his own breathing erratic and uneven. With each thrust, he drives deeper and deeper, forcing my body to climb higher and higher until I scream, falling apart, m
y mind becoming hazy, unable to form a coherent thought.
“That feels incredible,” Lincoln exhales, his voice strained as he pumps faster, drawing my orgasm out. When I’m not sure whether I can take any more, he grunts, thrusting deep into me, holding my hips in place as he jerks through his own release.
We remain motionless for several long moments, both of us struggling to get our breathing under control. As his body covers mine, I feel his heart beating violently in his chest. Satisfaction fills me at the idea that I did this to him, that I worked him up to this point of exertion.
“Goddamn,” he says, slowly withdrawing and peeling off me.
His touch is gentle as he supports my stomach, helping to lower me onto the mattress. My legs have never shaken or quivered as much as they are right now. I’ve never been this sated after sex. A woman could get used to this.
Once he’s certain I’m okay, he pushes off the bed, grabbing the duvet and covering my body with it. He rids himself of the condom, tossing it into the nearby trashcan before returning to me. Without saying a word, he crawls in beside me, pulling me into his arms, my back to his front. I need to clean up, but I’m content in this moment, my brain quiet for a change.
“I don’t remember inviting you to stay the night,” I tease in a lazy voice.
“You didn’t.” He plants soft kisses along my neck and shoulder, causing that fluttering to erupt in my stomach once more.
“Then what makes you think I want you to stay?”
“Because I know something you don’t.”
“And what’s that?”
“That I’m a huge fan of morning sex. If you thought that was incredible…” He circles his hips. Moisture pools between my thighs and I’m instantly ready for round two, or three. I’ve lost count at this point. “That was just a warm-up for tomorrow.”
I turn around to face him. “You think so, do you?”
“I don’t think…” He brings his lips toward mine. “I know.”
When he leans in to kiss me, I press my hand against his chest, pushing him away. Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, I force him onto his back and crawl on top of him.
“Well, I know something you don’t, too.” I bring my mouth to his.
“And what’s that?”
I bite his lower lip and tug at it before releasing it. “That I’m not done with you yet.”
“God, I love blackouts."
Chapter Eleven
An obnoxious pinging wakes me from one of the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time. Then again, Lincoln worked me to the point of utter exhaustion. I’ve never been with someone as enthusiastic and salacious. And let’s not even talk about his stamina. With him, it certainly is a marathon. Slow and steady won the race. Again. And again. And again.
It takes me a few moments to register what I’m hearing, the sound strange against the silence. Then it hits me — my cell phone.
I bolt up, grabbing it off the nightstand, surprised to learn I have service again and am being bombarded with texts from my concerned friends.
Nora: Ohmigod. I just saw the news. A blackout in Vegas? What happened? You’d better text and tell me you’re okay. You guys better be okay. Please text. Like now.
Evie: Hey. I heard about the blackout in Vegas. I know you and Izzy are still stuck in that shithole. Just let me know you’re okay. The news says cell towers have been affected so I don’t expect an immediate response, but I promised Nora I’d text. You know how she can be about stuff like this. There’s no reasoning with her. Love you. Stay safe.
Flopping back onto the bed, I check my flight status to see it’s not canceled, then type out a quick text to both of them to let them know I’m okay and that I’ll be getting into New York later today. Curious as to what happened to cause the loss of power for a little over twelve hours, I open the web browser and run a quick search. Unfortunately, there’s not much information, apart from the fact that Vegas lost power for a period lasting a little over twelve hours, but that all power and cell service is now restored.
I’m about to check my email, cringing at the idea of all the unanswered messages waiting for me, when an arm snakes around my waist. If it were anyone else, I’d shrug them off, make up some excuse, like needing to get to the airport to catch my flight, which I do, but I crave one last taste of Lincoln before our bubble bursts.
Moaning, I melt into him, craning my neck to give him better access. He feathers light kisses against my skin, his touch different from the commanding, dominant lover he was last night. Now he’s gentle, tender, affectionate. Truth be told, I like this side of him just as much. Maybe even a little more.
His hand roams from my stomach, creeping its way up to my chest. As his fingers ghost over one of my nipples, I whimper, my body coming alive. He pushes me onto my back, then crawls between my legs. His vibrant green eyes are lazy in the light of day, his exhaustion from our night of sin evident. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting me again.
Lowering his mouth to my breast, he delicately scrapes his teeth along the sensitized flesh of my nipple, and I lose myself to his touch yet again. Synapses firing, I wrap my legs around his waist, thrusting against him, my body a slave to sensation.
“Say you want me.” His voice is raspy from broken sleep.
I smile, running my hands through his hair. Every time he woke me up in the middle of the night, he demanded the same thing. Now, whenever I hear those words, I’ll only think of Lincoln, of his desperation to have my desire.
“I want you.”
“Say you need me.” This time, his plea is filled with more urgency.
“I need you.”
Groaning, he pulls away. I loosen my grip around his waist, allowing him to lean back and roll on a condom.
“And I need you. More than I’ve needed anything.” He covers my mouth as he pushes into me, filling me to my breaking point before retreating, continuing the same torturous, yet satisfying rhythm. Over. And over. And over.
Unlike last night, there are no carnal words, no harsh, punishing motions. It’s sweet and affectionate, making me feel more fulfilled than any previous sexual encounter. My body quivers, my heart quickening as I struggle to think of something else, anything other than the amazing way Lincoln seems to strum me, like a practiced musician would his instrument.
He lowers his mouth to my neck, licking and biting before he murmurs, “Let go, baby. Let me have it.”
My breathing grows ragged when his motions increase. Before I can fight against it, I unravel, a kaleidoscope of lights blinding me. He moans my name, finding his own release before collapsing on top of me, nuzzling his head against my chest.
I run my fingers through his wayward hair, swiping at the sweat on his brow. My eyes shift to the window, sunlight beaming into the room. Everything seems so different in the light of day. I’m not sure if it’s a good different or bad different.
“Come to dinner with me.” Lincoln’s voice cuts through the tranquility.
I smirk. “Did you forget I’m headed home today? My flight’s still showing as being on time.”
“Not here. Back in New York. I want to take you out.”
My heart catches in my throat, my body becoming as rigid, my brain unable to tell my lungs to breathe, to perform that simple task of drawing in air, then exhaling.
Noticing my reaction, Lincoln pulls back, meeting my eyes, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “What is it?”
I shake my head, my lips parting. Most normal people would agree, would want to see if these feelings were real, if they’d survive outside the bubble. But I’m not most people. I don’t have the luxury of being able to pursue a fantasy.
Pushing against him, I free myself from his hold and roll off the bed, scrambling around the room for my discarded clothes.
“Chloe, what is it?” He stands, stepping toward me. “I thought you—”
“Trust me,” I interrupt, finding my yoga pants and tugging them on after the search for my panti
es ends up being fruitless. “You don’t want that. We’re not exactly compatible, are we?”
I stumble across my t-shirt and yank it on, feeling much more comfortable having this conversation now that I’m dressed. Lincoln doesn’t seem to mind his lack of clothes, though. He’s still as confident as he was last night. As he was yesterday when he gave me that lame tortoise and the hare analogy. As he was that first night I saw him.
“We’re as opposite as they come,” I continue, my tone frantic. “Not just in physical appearance, but in personality. There’s no way this…” I gesture between our two bodies, “would ever work out. We don’t even know each other.”
This was never an issue with any of the other guys in my past. But they were aware of the score going in. They were happy with the score going in. I broke one of my rules. I failed to have that important conversation with Lincoln. I didn’t think I had to. We all agreed last night. What happens in the bubble stays in the bubble.
“And once you get to know the real me, you’ll—”
“Do you always try to control everyone else’s decisions?” he interrupts, his voice calm.
“I don’t try to control everyone else’s decisions.”
“You’re doing it right now. You’re standing here, claiming I’d never want to be with you, the real you, but you won’t even give me a chance to get to know the real you. That’s all I want. A chance.”
I wrap my arms around my torso, shrinking into my tiny frame. “Once you get to know the real me, you’ll understand how much of a mistake it is. Last night was great. Better than great. But we were in the blackout bubble.”
“What about this morning? The blackout bubble is gone, yet I still want to know you. I still feel the same thing I did last night. That hasn’t changed just because the power’s back on. I still feel this connection. And I know you do, too.”
“That wasn’t a connection. That was just the result of too much alcohol, being stuck in this house, and a pair of dice.”
“You’re wrong. I felt it the instant I touched you Saturday night. The entire time you were going off about how much you loathed Vegas, all I could think was that I wanted to know you, but that I’d never get the chance. And then I did. We kept running into each other. Over. And over. And I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. That it wasn’t just a chance meeting. I didn’t even know your name, yet what I felt for you was stronger than anything I’ve felt for anyone in a really long time. It makes no sense, and I can’t even attempt to explain it without sounding like I’m fucking crazy, but there it is… I just…” He licks his lips, his chest heaving as he collects his thoughts.