by Jenni Wilder
He slid his hands from my hips to cup my ass and pushed my pelvis against his as he thrust against me. “Think of how good it would feel if I were inside you right now, baby.” He rocked against me again, and pleasure spiked through me.
“That feels so good, Lincoln,” I said as I sat up slightly and pushed more of my weight down on him, grinding against him. The thin material of our pajama bottoms allowed me to feel him against my folds, and I closed my eyes and rocked against him and moaned as he rubbed against my center.
I was about to move against him again when he surprised me by pulling me off him to the side and rolling against me. He rested his weight on one elbow and moved his other hand between my legs. My eyes flew open as he cupped me through my pants.
“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered. His eyes sizzled with desire. He moved his hand up to my waistband and slipped his fingers under the elastic. I froze. “I won’t look, baby. The blankets are hiding everything. I just want to feel you. I want to make you feel good,” he said, his voice thick with desire. His fingers lightly rubbed against the soft skin of my pelvic area. I considered what he was asking before biting my bottom lip and nodding. I wanted to feel good, dammit.
Lincoln smiled and covered my mouth with his before slipping his whole hand into my pants. He slid two fingers through my slick folds and I went rigid, arching my back and pushing my hips up.
“MmMM!” I mumbled against his mouth as overwhelming sensation shot through me. He pulled back to watch me and when he stroked me again, I threw my head back against the pillow and cried out his name.
His thumb began circling my most sensitive part, and I clutched his muscles at the tops of his arms. “Oh God! Yes! Ahhh!” I cried out repeatedly, and he never let up his beautiful torture.
Waves of pleasure rolled through me as his fingers slid back and forth over my folds. He moved his head down and sucked a nipple into his mouth and licked it through my shirt, causing a massive jolt of pleasure to run through me.
“Lincoln!” I cried out in a strangled voice, and he did it again. I let out a high-pitched cry and squeezed his shoulders as sensation overtook me.
Pleasure was building up inside me until I couldn’t take anymore and it released as an orgasm ripped through me. My back arched instinctively, and my whole body shuddered with pleasure until I fell back limp on to the bed.
I lay there breathing heavily with my eyes closed, and I felt him lightly kiss my lips. My eyes fluttered open, and I looked up at my man. I could still feel my clitoris spasming, sending shocks of waning pleasure through me.
“Lincoln…” That was all I could say. I had never experienced an orgasm before. I had tried to make myself feel good in the past, but nothing had ever felt as good as what Lincoln had just done to me.
He pulled his hand out of my pants and stuck his fingers in his mouth. “Mm… you do taste good,” he said with a smirk.
I laughed at his audacity and pushed against his shoulders until he was lying on his back. I knelt at his side, my hands on either side of his head. “I know you taste good too,” I said in reply and lowered down to kiss him deeply.
I hovered over him, my breasts swaying freely under my shirt. His hands automatically came up to grasp them. As our tongues collided, he palmed and squeezed my full mounds and groaned into my mouth. His strong hands felt amazing on me, and before I knew it, his movements had bunched up my shirt.
As soon as I realized my midriff was exposed, I shot back from him, out of his reach, and pulled my shirt down.
Lincoln held his hands up. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to.” His eyes had gone from burning with desire to fearful with anxiety.
I took several deep breaths to clear the adrenaline from my body. That was close. My scars had been exposed. Had I not been kissing him, he would have seen them. Maybe... maybe he really meant what he said. Maybe my scars wouldn't affect him. It was almost too much to hope for.
I looked down at him. His face was contorted with worry, but he was flushed, and his lips were swollen from our passion.
I grasped his hands, lacing our fingers together and leaned back over him, pinning his hands under mine next to his head. I flipped my head so my hair fell to one side over my shoulder and leaned down with a seductive smile on my face. He gave me a small smile in return, but his eyes still held worry.
Without saying anything, I lightly kissed him, and he squeezed my hands, encouraging me. I deepened the kiss again, stirring up the passion between us before I moved to his neck and found the spot at the top of his collarbone that made him shudder.
I wiggled my fingers, and he released his hands but didn’t move them. I lightly traced my fingertips down his arms, around the crook of his elbows, and over his shoulders. My fingers glided over his chest muscles and down to his waist. I hitched the bottom of his tank top up and broke away from his neck as I pulled it over his head and threw it on the floor next to the bed.
I made a line of kisses on his chest until I got to one of his nipples. I flicked my tongue over it, and he gasped, causing me to smile. I moved lower, kissing his naked chest and pushing the covers of the bed back. When I got to the V at his lower abdomen, I ran my fingertips over it, loving how toned he was.
“Jillian, don’t stop,” he said and placed a hand on top of my head. Just like last time, he wasn’t forcing my head down. I think he simply wanted a connection to me.
I pulled the waistband of his pajama pants down, and he lifted his hips so I could pull them out of the way. I sat back, letting his hand fall to his stomach, and I admired him. He was rock hard and stood straight up. My mouth went slack as desire overtook me and I fantasized how he would feel sliding into my wet core. He lifted his head and looked at me, raising one eyebrow as if asking what I was waiting for.
I ran my hands up his thighs, letting my fingertips brush against him lightly before grasping him. He let his head drop back, and he moaned as I stroked him gently.
I lowered my head and took him in my mouth to the back of my throat as far as I could stand before pulling back while sucking. He groaned loudly, and I saw him ball the sheets up in his fist out of the corner of my eye. It thrilled me to know I could give him this much pleasure, and I quickly swallowed him again and pulled back sucking him tight against my lips.
“Jillian! Oh God!” he said in a raspy voice. I repeated my actions over and over. Swallowing and sucking.
He began thrusting up into my mouth. “I’m close, baby!” he cried, warning me. I swallowed him and paused at the base of his shaft. I had read something in a magazine once. I began humming as I sucked back. “AHH!” Lincoln cried out with pleasure.
Hmm, apparently the magazine had been right. I continued humming as I swallowed him again, and I heard him call out my name before thrusting one final time into my mouth. I felt hot liquid at the back of my throat, and I swallowed quickly as Lincoln cried out in orgasm.
He softened in my mouth and I released him, letting go of his drained member. I sat back again and watched him enjoy his post-blowjob bliss. His eyes were closed, and his body was totally relaxed. It made me smile. He opened one eye and held a hand up, indicating he wanted to cuddle.
I adjusted his pants so he was covered before crawling up his body and laying my head on his naked chest. He was still breathing rather heavily, and I could hear his heart beating fast as he wound his arms around me and held me tight.
~~~~~~~~
Lincoln drove me to work in the morning without a single complaint about how early it was. I was wary of any photographers that would be waiting outside the lab when he dropped me off, but Lincoln didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned when he walked me to the front door of GenChem’s building and kissed me good-bye. He had an away game that night, and his flight left shortly after noon so we wouldn’t see each other until the next day.
For as much as I would miss Lincoln, I felt like I had been neglecting Tabitha and Rebecca and was looking forward to a quiet night at home.
I promised him I would before asking, “Does Carter need me to do anything?” I didn’t want to go to the police station to file charges without Lincoln by my side.
“I’ll let you know, baby, but that can wait until I get back. Don’t worry about anything.” He ran his hand over my head and down my hair. I loved it when he did that.
I smiled. “The only thing I’ll worry about is when I get to see you again.”
He smiled back and kissed me. “Tomorrow.”
We said good-bye and I watched Lincoln return to his vehicle before heading in to work with a sigh.
If he planned to see me tomorrow and his birthday party was on Friday, I would have to go shopping for a present for him tonight, I realized. Shit. I had no idea what to get him. I had never bought a birthday present for a guy I was dating, much less a rich professional hockey player. I pulled out my phone as I walked to my lab area.
“Okay, I lied. I do have one other worry. I worry about what to get my sexy man for his birthday.” I sent Lincoln the text, hoping for inspiration, but he didn’t reply. I wasn’t surprised; he was driving. Well, I wouldn’t worry about it now. I could ask Rebecca for ideas later.
I put my coat and purse away and pulled out my laptop from my messenger bag to focus on my work when I heard my phone chime from my purse. I quickly dug it out and saw Lincoln had replied.
“I already have everything I could ever wish for, now that I have you.” I smiled and giggled to myself as I read it. I shook my head in amusement.
My phone chimed again. “Was that too cheesy? lol”
I really did laugh out loud at that. “Yes, but I’m not going to complain. :) Now—no texting and driving!” I scolded him.
“I’m not, baby. Don’t worry.”
Good man, I thought. Texting and driving was a terrible habit. I sent him a kiss and put my phone away. I went to work, but could not wipe the smile off my face.
Chapter Eighteen
I sat cross-legged on the couch surrounded by trails of yarn. I frantically knitted while watching Lincoln chase the puck around the rink on TV. I was making him a dark blue woolen hat that would match the scarf I had already finished.
Rebecca sat on the floor with Tabitha, playing a board game, both of them ignoring the hockey game. I had joined them before Lincoln took the ice, but when the game started I went back to my knitting but continued chatting with them over the game. I was on a deadline to get his present knitted before I went to bed.
It was currently past Tabitha’s bedtime and Rebecca was urging her to go to bed. I hugged and kissed my niece good-night and Rebecca took her upstairs to start her bedtime routine.
Lincoln was playing well tonight, and I was enjoying watching my man dominate the ice until he took a hard check into the boards and collapsed onto the ice. It was a hard enough check that it made me sit up and take notice. It wasn’t the first time I had seen him get hit, but this looked rougher than normal, and he was still lying on the ice. My stomach dropped.
The announcer excitedly called the action of which player was in control of the puck, and the camera panned away from Lincoln. I couldn’t tell if he was okay and anxiety filled in a pit in my stomach.
When the referee sounded a whistle, the announcer proclaimed how hard Lincoln had been hit while my screen replayed the collision.
I threw my knitting down and scrambled off the couch, kneeling in front of the TV with my hand over my mouth. The referee called a penalty on the other team’s player, but that did nothing to settle my nerves.
Finally the camera panned back to Lincoln, and I saw he was standing but was hunched over, being supported by another player. It was Deacon, actually. Okay. Okay. At least he was standing, I told myself.
A man, maybe the team trainer, rushed out on the ice and started talking to Lincoln, and he nodded his head as he continued to lean on Deacon. The two men helped Lincoln to a door in the boards that circled the rink. They ushered him off the ice, and he disappeared into a crowd of people. I could only assume he was headed to the locker room. Maybe they were taking him to the hospital.
My phone chimed, and I jumped up to answer it, the display showing it was Lincoln’s sister.
“Kennedy,” I said into the phone, my voice betraying my feelings. I sounded totally freaked out.
“He’ll be okay,” she said, but she sounded worried.
“Are you sure? How do you know?”
“He wasn’t unconscious. He was moving on his own. They’re just taking him out of the game to check him out,” she said with certainty.
“Are you sure?” I sniffed and wiped a tear off my cheek.
“I know it’s terrifying. But they have really good trainers and doctors. It didn’t look like he broke any bones, so the worst thing right now would be a concussion. And they are trained to deal with that.”
“Okay.” I sniffed again. “Thank you for calling,” I said, trying to calm my anxiety.
“Lincoln told me you watch his games. I figured you’d be watching tonight,” Kennedy explained, and I nodded into the phone even though Kennedy couldn’t see me. “He’ll be okay, Jillian.”
“I’m sorry. I believe you. I just—” I paused, not sure how to voice my concern.
“You just haven’t gone through this before, I know. I know how scary it is. One time in high school he got knocked out cold and they took him off the ice on a stretcher. That was terrifying.”
I couldn’t answer her. I was terrified now, I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if Lincoln hadn’t gotten up. I would be worried until I talked to him.
I looked up as Rebecca walked into the room. She saw I had been crying and immediately knelt down next to me. “What’s wrong?!” she asked with alarm.
I looked up at the TV and saw them replaying the collision that had taken Lincoln out. I pointed at it, and Rebecca’s face changed from confusion to understanding.
“Is he okay?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m talking to Kennedy.”
“He’ll call as soon as he can,” she said through the phone. But when I didn’t reply, she offered to come over and keep me company.
“Is Brian home?” I asked, wondering if her husband was away for work.
“Yeah, he’s here tonight. But I’m going to be up until Lincoln calls me anyway, so I can easily come over.”
“You really think he’s all right?”
“I’m sure. No permanent damage done, anyway,” she replied in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Okay. I’ll just wait for him to call then. Thank you again, Kennedy. I really appreciate it.” I really did appreciate it. Lincoln’s sister was amazing.
“Anytime,” Kennedy replied, but then added, “Well, hopefully not anytime. Maybe he can stay on his feet in the future,” she said with a laugh.
I chuckled and said good-bye to Kennedy. Rebecca and I moved back to the couch and I picked my knitting back up and continued working on Lincoln’s present. Rebecca got her tablet out and surfed the net. We kept the game on in the background hoping the announcers would say something about Lincoln’s condition.
My phone balanced ominously on my knee. I checked it obsessively and could have sworn time had slowed down. Every time I looked at the clock my anxiety grew. What could be taking so long? He was either okay, or he wasn’t. Either way, they should let him call. Not calling meant something was wrong. What if he did have a concussion and he couldn’t use the phone?
“Hey, no news is good news,” Rebecca said to me as the game ended and I turned off the TV. The Hawks had won, but Lincoln never returned to the ice. I felt another tear run down my
cheek, and I wiped it away.
“I love him, Becca,” I said, finally admitting it to someone.
“Well, obviously, Jillian.”
I looked up at her with raised eyebrows. She knew I loved Lincoln?
“You’d be an idiot not to fall for him with the way he worships you. I’m practically in love with the guy, and I’m just the future sister-in-law.”
I snorted. “Future sister-in-law? Don’t you think you’re rushing things?”
“Well, I didn’t say the near future. I didn’t mean like this weekend. But someday,” Rebecca said smiling sweetly.
“You don’t think this is all too fast? We haven’t even known each other a month.” This was one of my main fears. I was already in love and practically obsessed with Lincoln. Was it too soon?
“You deserve to be happy, Jillian. And it’s obvious Lincoln makes you happy.” She patted my hand.
I had finished the scarf and hat and was currently wearing both of them. I ran my hand down the scarf wrapped around my neck. “Do you think he’ll like these, or was it dumb to knit this for him?”
“Jilly… he’ll love it. It’s from you,” she answered, and I hoped it was true. “Has Lincoln told you he loves you yet?”
I shook my head. I hoped he felt the same way about me but, no, he hadn’t said it. “We’ve only known each other three weeks,” I reminded my sister.
“So? You love him already.”
“Yeah, but that’s 'cause it’s Lincoln. I mean, he’s like perfect,” I said, sounding like a teenage girl with a crush.
“I’m sure Lincoln feels the same way about you, Jilly Bean,” she said with a smile.