by S. K Munt
Or at least, before she did. Lincoln suspected his ache for her would never fade, especially if she continued to look like this for another hundred years!
Lincoln closed his eyes briefly and grinned, biting his lip in case the smile grew so wide that she’d hear it. Never in his life had he felt so excited and at peace simultaneously. The secrets were gone, his rival had perished, and his ring was on her hand. So long as Ardhi understood how things had changed, their life together was a guarantee.
And her body...the object of his every fantasy, from young adult to wearied adult to merman-was his for the claiming. But when?
Lincoln’s lips found her skin again and he nuzzled her as gently as he could manage, feeling drawn to her, instead of actively pursuing. He opened his hands and spread his fingers to caress a larger area of her crossed arms, but instead of stroking muscle, his thumbs brushed against something fuller, fleshier and lush. Her beautiful, achingly soft breasts-bare to his touch.
Ivyanne’s intake of breath was so sharp that Lincoln’s lips broke contact with her skin when her chest expanded. He froze once more, not breathing himself, and not moving his hands either. He’d sooner sever his hands than reposition them now, and if that was the price he had to pay then he’d accept the penance without complaint.
Seconds passed, and nothing changed. She didn’t reciprocate, but she didn’t roll away and throw sand in his eyes either. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he exhaled slowly, seeing the fine tendrils of hair around her ear shiver with his breath, and changed his grip-sliding his fingers under her arms and greedily cupping her breasts-what he could get of them-and squeezing ever so gently, making his appreciation known.
Ivyanne gasped in response, her tailbone arching against his erection and eliciting a grunt from him. In reflex, Lincoln curved around her, slinging one of his long, naked legs over both of hers, pinning her to him, before he sank his teeth gently into the side of her long neck.
‘Uh!’ Ivyanne’s head thrust back, granting him more access, and adrenalin flooded his bloodstream. His hands were tucked between her upper arms and the sides of her breasts and it was hot and tight there. With the silky flesh of her buttocks nuzzling his erection at the same time, straining against it, it was all too much, and still not enough.
How much further will she let me go? Lincoln wondered, already feeling grief-stricken at the idea of her pulling away. But even as he questioned his next course of action, his hands took the initiative and kneaded her swollen tits, sliding his pointer fingers until they glanced off her nipples. The perfect little peaks had hardened by the time his fingers swept back across them, and he followed suit, rolling his hips against her backside, needing to let out some tension while terrified that one stroke too many against her satiny skin would undo him. The pleasure rewarded by this action made his eyes roll back into his head and he released her neck again, gasping for air. He wasn’t just hard, or turned on, or eager-he was dizzy.
‘Oh…’ Ivyanne’s soft mewl was only just audible, but there was no mistaking her own state of arousal when her hand swept up and landed firmly on his hip, opening her chest so that her breasts overflowed in his palms. And as she welcomed this caress, her delicate little hand slid down his backside then firmly up again, urging him against her. Jerking him against her. If he’d suspected that she was stronger than him before, he had no doubt now, because her action was so swift and hard that his erection was forced between the snugness of her clenched thighs before he could stop it. The sensation it caused was so explosive that he feared he would pass out from the pleasure.
‘Ugh…’ Lincoln’s teeth snapped together violently, and the pain yanked him back from the precipice of release. Years of torture, years of temptation and fear and loss culminated between their legs in a heat that could have razed a city to cinders, but he couldn’t allow himself to submerge into it yet, he needed this moment to last.
Part of him, a sliver, attempted to warn him that they were moving too fast and too suddenly-there were questions to be asked: Why was she going along with this? Had she intended to bed him when they were engaged, or was this a spur of the moment decision on her part? Was she in the right state of mind to be doing this after having cried over Ardhi all morning? Would she regret doing this if she got pregnant? Did she still love Tristan?
But he couldn’t bring himself to ask those questions and he was too hot for any of it to matter-logic was incinerated to ashes from the heat. They’d talked. For twelve years they’d done nothing but talk and debate and avoid doing the only thing they needed to do to move forward.
Lincoln’s hands skittered over her exposed flesh, stroking, cupping, pinching and rubbing, savoring every inch, breathing through his teeth. She’d changed so much since the last time she’d granted him a little access, and he worshipped each new curve. No words were spoken, no endearments exchanged- the only sounds audible was fizzing of small waves against the rocks behind them, and the panting of their labored breathing-which was drowned out by the blood roaring in his ears anyway. It was strange to feel so alive in such silence, but Lincoln felt that this was exactly how it needed to be the first time he took her.
And he was going to take her. There was no turning back now that he’d felt the heat between her thighs-her mutual need for him.
In an act of silent declaration, Lincoln’s right hand abandoned her breast and shot down between her legs from the front, sinking his fingers into the apex there and crying out, as she did, when his finger breached the only boundary remaining between them. Her body stiffened and then bucked wildly, writhing against the intrusion, tilting her pelvis up to allow him easier access. Her arousal coated his fingers and Lincoln shuddered in absolute ecstasy. She was ready for him. Willing, and pliable. He stiffened to the point of agony. God he needed her!
‘Oh!’ Ivyanne twisted her neck, slaying him with the intensity in her blazing opalescent eyes as their gazes locked for the first time since they’d awoken. ‘K-’ but before she could finish her command, he slid his finger out of her and rolled it across the bud at the top of her tight entrance, making her cry out again. Lincoln didn’t need to hear what she wanted-he already knew, and he reared up and over her, sliding his tongue into her open mouth and caressing hers, kissing her more deeply than he had ever dared until then, for fear of losing control. A trace of the champagne she’d had earlier still clung to her tongue and he lapped at it greedily, knowing that by the time they were through, there wouldn’t be a part of her body to have escaped his mouth.
Urged on by her wild, whimpered cries, Lincoln’s fingers left Ivyanne’s sex and he reared up even more, rolling her underneath him, not once letting the connection between their mouths break completely. Ivyanne groaned around his arduous kiss, and allowed him to take the lead, her hands lifting, closing around his hips and grinding them against her own wantonly. Lincoln grunted, his elbows and knees sinking into the sand around her limbs, caging her beneath him, and took the assault for as long as he could. Which was for a heartbeat, maybe two. Then he tore his mouth away from hers and gazed down upon her, breathing haggardly, completely captivated by the sight of her swollen lips and breasts and the helpless look on her beautiful face as she blinked up at him. He would never forget this moment, as it was a milestone for him.
The first time he felt like a king.
‘You’re fucking perfect.’ It was the first thing he had said to her, and his voice was husky, catching on the lump of emotion forming in his throat as his mind drifted over all he had overcome to get to this moment. It was all too much for the human inside him to adequately feel, and the merman knew of only one way to handle it. He reached out and spread his fingers over her neck, stroking down gently, watching her body roll with the movement as he descended towards his ultimate prize.‘I love you.’
Ivyanne closed her eyes and tilted her head back, tears leaking out from the corners of her lashes and down her cheeks. Curls spilled around her, claiming possession over everything in their path-g
olden spirals blanketing nearby rocks, catching in her eyelashes, wilting between her parted lips.
‘I love you too Lincoln.’
He didn’t know the cause of her tears, but when she opened her eyes and smiled, he realized it didn’t matter. All that mattered, was that she wanted to be there with him. Lincoln reached out and plucked the stray strands from her face then lifted her chin gently, needing her to look at him again and convince him that she was aware of what he was about to do to her.
‘Why now?’ He breathed.
The green of her eyes was paler in the glaring sunlight. Behind them, another wave broke, this one larger.
‘So you both know that I belong to you now.’
Lincoln swallowed. She was talking about Ardhi, of course, and that made sense. Was that what had her so upset? The possibility that Ardhi had returned, still hoping to claim her as his bride? Hoping Lincoln hadn’t survived? Was that how it really was? Possession seized every muscle of his body, and he shifted his weight back, brushing his lips against her stomach.
‘I appreciate the gesture.’ His hands passed over her exposed sex and rested on her inner thighs, spreading them more, sweeping off a few remaining scales that were a translucent blue. ‘Now I have one of my own.’
He lowered himself and before she could anticipate what he was about to do, Lincoln stroked her delicate opening with the tip of his tongue, delved inside and then swept upwards, including every hot spot he knew women had in his intimate kiss and moaning audibly when he tasted her sweet saltiness.
Ivyanne’s reaction was explosive. She bucked and then rocked up to a sitting position, her thighs clenching around his ears, her hair falling over his back as she curled over him.
‘What are you doing?!’ She gasped, digging her fingertips into his scalp. ‘Oh god..!’
Lincoln was shocked by her reaction, but it only took a beat for that shock to turn to superiority. If this was new to her, then it meant that Tristan had skipped it in his deflowering, and Lincoln’s erection throbbed to know that he was on virgin territory after all. He didn’t respond to her question, only suckled harder, focusing his attentions to where she was actually pulsing, pulling her into his mouth and then catching her reaction with another arc of his tongue.
‘Ah! Oh!’ Ivyanne rocked against his mouth, her grip on his head verging on violent as she pulled him closer and Lincoln only wanted more pain. Three kisses, four, had her hips rolling with wide abandon. ‘Link! Oh-oh crap!’ The last exclamation was colored with alarm, the words hissed, not panted. Her grip changed and suddenly, he felt his head wrested from heaven. ‘Boat!’
That word had always unnerved him and even in the throes of passion, it was enough to shock him straight. He rose to his knees in time for Ivyanne to grasp his shoulders and twist his upper body towards the ocean.
‘Look!’
Lincoln saw it at once, a tiny fishing boat in the distance growing larger with every passing breath. Ivyanne was already on her feet and pulling him to his own while backing up, putting the boulder between them and the shore. ‘We have to hide. Now.’ Her voice was breathless, her face flushed and her distress clear.
The boat was about two hundred meters offshore, and approaching fast. Its proximity made Lincoln incredibly aware of their risky predicament. If they were seen, just how many plausible explanations were there for a young couple to be fifty kilometers from the mainland, unclothed and boat-less? Instinct overrode his shock, but before he could move of his own volition, Ivyanne was already grasping his hand and tugging him towards the forested rise of the island itself.
‘Stay low, move fast!’
Lincoln followed her, trying to look at the placement of his feet as they skittered over the rocks, but finding it hard to do with her bare ass flexing as she loped before him. He was still hard and though he knew he ought to feel ridiculous, there was something natural about the moment. The rocks under his feet grew more sparse and suddenly, they were in the shadow of palm trees. Rocks turned to sand to grass and then, the air was cooler, and the day filled with fresh sounds. Leaves whispered, fronds scratched together and birds called. And behind them, the sound of an outboard idling to a stop took predominance over everything else.
When they were behind the first two lines of trees, Ivyanne spun around, pressing herself up against the curved trunk of a coconut tree and gazing out to the water, shoulders rising and falling rapidly with every breath.
‘This should be far enough.’ She panted, glancing at him, a hint of amusement playing in her eyes. ‘That was close! But I don’t think he saw us.’
Lincoln turned, his breathing heavier. He saw the boat slow not fifteen meters from where they’d been about to make love, right in the shallows. It wasn’t Ardhi-it was a an older man with sun-ravaged skin and a faded blue fishing hat. He stood for a moment, surveying the area with a hand shielding his eyes, then reached for something. A fishing line. Lincoln sagged, relieved.
‘What’s he doing?’
‘Chasing trout. They like to hide under rocks. It’s deeper there than it looks from here, remember?’ Ivyanne pushed off the tree and walked behind him, sighing. ‘We’ll be stuck here until he packs up. Unless you’re in the mood for a bush walk to the other side? That way, we can take off without being noticed.’
‘A bush walk?’ Lincoln echoed in disbelief. She was thinking about walking? Leaving? Only a minute had passed since his tongue had led her to the brink or orgasm and already she’d cooled down enough to think about tactical escapes? It was unthinkable and utterly devastating! He turned to her, actually tempted to tell her off, but then when his eyes landed on her, his tongue turned to parchment.
Ivyanne was leaning against the trunk of another bowed coconut tree only three feet behind him, one knee lifted so that her foot could sit flat against the smooth bark. She’d stretched her arms above her head, holding her hair away from her shoulders, wrists crossed, her body slightly reclined and open to his gaze, chest still expanding with rushed inhalations. She looked like a water nymph trapped in the forest, some sacrifice to a decadent god. An offering, to him.
But the look on her face was the most mesmerizing sight. She was glowing, her eyes gleaming with wicked mischief and arousal. She lifted her eyebrows. ‘Unless there’s something else you’d like to do to kill time until he leaves?’ Her voice was cloying, taunting. She dropped her gaze, and he hardened when her eyes swept over his jutting length. She wet her lips, and dear god, he felt the moisture on the tip of his cock. She wanted him still. She was playing with him.
‘What do you want to do?’ Lincoln asked, playing along even while taking a step towards her. Lush, cool grass cushioned his feet. What a place they’d discovered, and what fun he’d have laying her out on the soft forest floor!
Ivyanne lifted her eyes, and smiled. ‘I’m open to suggestions...’ She let her hand fall and her hair tumbled free. But it was her hand he watched as it slid down her own chest, her stomach, and then nudged her hitched thigh to the side, exposing herself to his riveted gaze, stroking herself. It was the hottest fucking thing he had ever seen.
‘...In fact I’m very open right now...for my fiancé....’
The word fiancé made him growl lustily. Lincoln was at the junction of her thighs in two strides, dropping to his knees, slapping her hand away possessively. He gripped her hips and pressed his mouth against her, pulsing from head to toe when she took hold of his hair once more and moaned his name to the tree canopy above.
18.
Lincoln’s mouth had Ivyanne half out of her wits within four seconds, and she liked it that way. She’d fallen asleep under the shadow of dread, and awoken in heaven. She laid back against the tree, and though the hardness of the trunk dug into her back, she needed the stability of it, something she could cling on to to keep her from blacking out. An anchor to reality.
This is happening. Ivyanne stared down at the top of Lincoln’s sand encrusted black hair, heart swelling with appreciation at the amazing sight
. He was the boy she had always known, always loved, in the body of the man she was growing so familiar with now, and yet the intimacy of what he was doing was making her shiver both with pleasure and self-consciousness. Lincoln holding her hand was one thing-but Lincoln on his knees, between her legs, making her body shudder and pulse with focused determination and unbridled lust was quite another. In that moment, he wasn’t sweet, polite or sentimental-he was downright erotic, and it was melting her.
‘Oh!’ Ivyanne threw her head back when he nipped at her, tugging on the delicate bundle of nerves gently with his teeth, making her spasm in response. She pulled her hands from his hair so she wouldn’t scalp him, bringing them up to her cheeks and eyes, mortified by her carnal exclamation. Being this raw with Tristan had felt more natural, because their relationship had been built of a foundation of straightforward chemistry. The first time she’d encountered him, she’d been grinding up against him within moments, and because they were both mer, it had just made sense.
But Lincoln was used to seeing her a different way-through lenses of expectation and fantasy that didn’t have a chance in hell of being fulfilled. It had been safe for her that way, living in his dreams, being all he wanted her to be without ever needing to prove it or risk disappointing him. She had loved the power that had come from being elusive to him, she saw that now. Perhaps it had something to do with the blue blood in her veins, or perhaps it was that ego of hers she was just getting acquainted with, but she’d loved having the upper hand.
But now, Lincoln was tasting her, feeling her, looking more closely at her than anyone else ever had, and she was terrified that she’d never live up to the expectations he’d been cultivating for so long.
And she was also thrown, because he was surpassing her own expectations of him. If he could do this with just the tip of his tongue then…. ? She shivered again as another wave of spasming pleasure radiated through her. He was on his knees, yes, but he had the control, and once they were married, he’d be as close to her equal as anyone could ever be. Would he still love her, when he didn’t have to chase her anymore? How many flaws had he noticed under the illumination of unforgiving midday sun?