Devil In Her Bed

by Amarie Avant

  His teeth grate through my spandex shorts, massaging the skin on the inside of my thighs. My pussy begins to percolate.

  “Lincoln, eat me out! Fuck,” I beg as his teeth bite against the tender skin against my thigh. He’s so close to my core, yet taunting me.

  “What’s that noise?” I look around, being partially upside down, the trees spear into the sky.

  “Deer, squirrel, this sweet pussy on a platter,” Lincoln retorts.

  I giggle, as his nose once more nudges between my legs. I know he’s handling his cock when he groans. I try to open my legs wider for ease of access, but I’m damn near doing a head stand, and the splits already.

  “Do not move,” he orders. Lincoln places his hand at my lower back, and slides me back up into a straddling position. He helps pull the tiny shorts and panties from my ass. My skin feels hot and achy as his bare hands handle my body.

  Lincoln pushes himself onto his knees, with my legs straddled about his waist. “Look up at the sky again,” he tells me. Once more I’m in the dolphin position, with my breasts in the air, and head down as Lincoln gets to thrusting.

  I pull up with my abdominals. “Oh, hell no, that sounded good with you going down on me.”

  He growls but there’s a twinkle of a smile in his eyes. Lincoln stands, gripping my buttocks, and bouncing me on his cock.

  Lincoln leans forward, our bare chests touching. His cock goes deep as his lips caress the soft shell of my ear. “You’re so fucking wet for me, beautiful.”

  “I love you,” I tell him as he gets a rhythm, biceps working me up and down.

  I shiver in anticipation as his member slides out of me, then slams in me once more. Moaning with the need to be fucked hard and fast, I lose myself as Lincoln grips my ass cheeks and forces me down on his cock. My lower back arches. A jolt zips through my body as an orgasm rides through.

  We are outside, in the woods, getting it in like teenagers. Bliss glows across my face and skin.

  “You think I’m done with you?” Lincoln turns me around. I plant my tennis shoes sturdy into the lush grass and bend over, with my hands gripping the log.

  Lincoln enters me from behind. I’m in sheer heaven as his muscle stretches my insides with each drive. Tilting my hips as much as I can, I welcome the depth of his long, thick cock. Lincoln fucks me barbarically. My ass slaps back against his hard erection. The friction of his cock going in and out, ever so quickly, and the tunneling of the head of his cock back into my body makes me scream out.

  “Lincoln…” My voice echoes throughout the trees.

  My breaths are ragged as he comes inside of me. I'm dizzy. Lincoln offers total support. He helps me stand. I steady my back against him. His rock-hard chest is against me. I feel his wild heartbeat pound against me. He incites nerve endings I had no idea even existed.

  ***

  Today is all play, no work. Probably because Lincoln had an invitation to a military gala yesterday. We are both such homebodies that I had to practically harass him to attend.

  The event reminded me of the military balls back in high school. I forced him to don a tuxedo and he'd surprised me by having a Valentino gown draped over the bed, with a pair of black diamond earrings after I had showered. He knew I’d want to go and besides my endeavors to persuade him, felt obligated to attend.

  There were politicians, ambassadors and a few familiar military greats at the event. The type of bigwigs that I can just imagine telling the president to press a button for a nuclear weapon. While people revered them, more people came up to Lincoln. I learned that he was “just” a businessman, with an arsenal of guns. Leave it to loner Lincoln not to have become a British ambassador or prime minister as one of his colleagues told me. While the bigwigs embraced him, and even consulted with him, he was also admired by the rest of the people due to the latest super gun or whatever the hell they said.

  He is a man easy to gravitate toward, and this kind of reminded me of how I followed him. Lincoln is just that magnetizing.

  ***

  Last night was so busy that tonight all electronics are turned off. Our love languages match, both captivated by each other. Condensation rises from a hot bath I’ve drawn. Lincoln sits across from me in the bowl-shaped bathtub. Steam coats my skin and I smile like a giddy kid as he rubs my feet.

  “Bugger me, Siobhan, I have never seen such a sight,” Lincoln declares with a face full of astonishment. “Shit, God made you gorgeous! What kinda bloke am I to deserve you?”

  “Where have I heard that before?” I grin. He always has this astonished look on his face while declaring how beautiful I am and I love it.

  Lincoln scratches his temple. “Wot? I've said that before, you sure?”

  I shake my head as he feigns daft.

  The water sloshes as he reaches for my leg.

  “Well, in all my life, I have never been so happy.” I moan, gaze shaded while Lincoln massages at the arch of my foot.

  “I’d like to make you happier.”

  I glance at him, then rub the mist over my glowing face. “I can’t stop myself from smiling, Lincoln, I swear to you, I’ve never been so happy.”

  He grabs my calf and pulls me over. Water and suds splash everywhere as I straddle him. His cock plays a rough, raw game of piercing my inner thigh. But there’s no lust in his eyes, all love, all serious. “What if I wanted to marry you, make you Mrs. Zager?”

  “What if I said yes?” Damn, that slipped out all too quickly. A year is just a drop in the bucket. Not long at all, but can we be part of the few who marry so soon and stays in love forever?

  Just as easily as that notion is considered, a slither of sadness comes over me. Hosea Murrell. He was my forever man. I never made good on my promise to his father, which was the very same promise I silently made to myself two years ago, to never lose hope.

  “What are you thinking?” Lincoln seeps through my cognition.

  “Contemplating how perfect it would be to be your wife.” I plant my lips against his so as not to think about Hosea.

  My mother is right. God gave me Lincoln. In this world where bad shit happens and the man I once loved was taken away from me, God has mended my broken heart with none other than Lincoln Zager.

  ***

  Though my body is heavy and satiated from the hot bath, I had anticipated more sex. This day hasn’t transpired without Lincoln’s touching or kissing or fucking me. But somehow, we just lie in bed, molded into each other. The fresh Egyptian cotton scent entwines with the taste of our afternoon sex mingling together.

  There’s an eight-by-ten of us with Connie and Everett Junior at Disneyland, from this past summer on my side of the bed. Across from the bed, is the canvas of Lincoln and me, with a dusting of snow on our coats as we stood beneath the Eiffel Tower. We’d taken a trip once there was a lull in On Demand, after the holiday season. This upcoming January, he said we’d venture to a place where the snow almost rivaled my beauty.

  Lincoln’s fingertips brush lightly over the side curve of my breast, down my waist to my hip. This is how it feels to fall in love. Nothing on God’s green earth touches the thought of being submerged in love.

  I don’t know how long he’s been caressing my skin. The heaviness of my eyelids ceases as Lincoln’s words pull me back from the tranquil slumber.

  “I was engaged once,” he says. “About five years ago.”

  I roll over from being spooned in his arms. I recall him saying he didn’t just fuck for play. Lincoln had said he wasn’t a playboy and once I was his that was final.

  He seems so perfect, nurturing and in tune with what I need. I wonder who screwed things up. Part of me is elated Lincoln and his ex-fiancée parted ways because I have no intention of letting him go. “What happened?”

  “Lost her to breast cancer.”

  “Oh God, Hosea’s mother died from breast cancer soon after we graduated from high school. I fucking hate cancer,” I mention.

  Lincoln has always supported me and listened
to my stories, I don’t know when I began to feel uncomfortable bringing up Hosea. I haven’t mentioned his name in a while now. I bite my lip and then ask, “How old was she?”

  “Thirty-four when she passed. We were together for ten years. She served in the US Army. In the beginning, we had plans to settle down later once I had fully established myself in my grandfather’s business and she was ready to settle down as well. We had the longest engagement. She’d always assumed a stray bullet would be the end of her and not stupid breasts, her words not mine.”

  “You met while…”

  “While at the Pentagon.” Lincoln nods. “I was debriefing the head of merchandising on a few Zager weapons proposals.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Chrissy,” he says, tasting my lips. Though Lincoln kisses my breath away, I’m aware that this is all he will divulge for now.

  My fingers caress across the stubble of his jaw. “Well, I thank you for sharing a bit about your life with Chrissy. Lincoln, I know you have a difficult time talking about your past, but I don’t mind. I love you, and I love learning more about you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Siobhan

  After making love outdoors the other day, Lincoln has me underneath the elements once more. Tonight, the stars are out, as we lie together in the park. The army-fatigue sleeping bag keeps the chilled gust away. But Lincoln radiates even more warmth from his hard body, while telling me about the various places he’s traveled.

  “So, it was meditation and kicking ass—not to mention beating up your own arms as conditioning—in Jakarta,” I begin, attempting to recall it all while twirling a finger around the three-stone drop diamond necklace Lincoln purchased just because. “Then you endured even more tedious meditation with the monks in Bangkok. Hungarian…” I pause, unable to fathom how he's lived so many lives in his thirty-nine years.

  “Fire glass designing in Hungary,” he chimes in, softly nibbling on my jawline.

  “Well damn, I don’t think I’ll ever be interested in the venturing to the Amazon with you,” I chuckle, “but we have some places to go.”

  His laughter forces his abdominals to tighten and it feels good against my side. “I doubt you’d be interested in meditation, Siobhan, or learning to desensitize your feeling by fighting in Indonesia…”

  “As long as I don't have to beat myself up,” I joke, “I’ll still travel there, for food.”

  “Good, I can’t get enough of you.” He nuzzles my neck. “I’d gladly escort you anywhere you’d want to go, love.”

  His lips meet mine. Our tongues intertwine and the need for oxygen subsides, because Lincoln has given me life. With him, every touch makes my body cave.

  “Hey, where ya going?” Lincoln grins as I begin to scoot down beneath the blanket.

  “Um-hmmm, you promise me the world, Lincoln, and you're not fond of my verbal gratitude. So this is how I thank you,” I mumble unable to stop myself from smiling, though my mouth is pooling with the saliva of desiring the taste of him.

  Beneath the sleeping bag, I feel around in the dark. His huge cock isn’t a feat to find. I take in his semi-hard erection, the sweet taste of my own sex coating my tongue. His manhood is rising, expanding in my mouth so much so that I have to work on my gag reflex while allowing the crown of him to slide against my tonsils.

  There’s glory in sucking Lincoln’s magnificent cock. I can hear him complimenting me on my soft pink lips and how they are the perfect complement to his steel shaft. The feel of his hard cock against my tongue is the epitome of the word power. The rippled veins receive attention before my tongue strokes the long length of his shaft. Then I deep throat him, lips reaching for the base of him.

  I drink the motivation I’d created from deep within him. His muscular thighs are tightening beneath me. Lincoln’s powerful seed squirts into my mouth in endless waves, I guzzle and guzzle the sweet taste of him until my body is full and he is satiated.

  A deep breath infuses through my lungs and I lay my head onto his thigh with a sigh.

  “So when do we leave to travel the world and where do you want to start?” Lincoln breaks the silence.

  At that I laugh and come up. “How fast can we travel the world? Hungary might be a good place to start. I’m interested in sculpting glass.”

  “Fast? That's tosh, Siobhan, nothing will be done and enjoyed fast.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. We can start at the beginning of the year. Most of the marketing opportunities subside up until we gear toward Valentine’s. Can you stay away from your manufacturing company for an extended duration of time?”

  A swishhhhh sound breaks through our tranquility. Sprinklers rise from the ground, spraying water in all directions. Lincoln and I scramble to our feet. He grabs the sleeping bag and I snatch up my cross purse. Icy cold water seeps into my sweater, and we run at top speed.

  ***

  The holiday season sweeps in, yet again. This year, the aftermath of death and a stalker doesn’t loom in the shadows. Thanksgiving came in a flash, with Dad bringing a turkey fryer and the accompanying manual to my great aunt’s home. Since Lincoln is British, and doesn't celebrate the holiday, he was the only one enthusiastic about Dad’s endeavors. This was our second Thanksgiving together, and so it seemed like a tradition. But my mom and her aunt and family saved the day, with a backup perfectly golden turkey and every other meat fitting for a feast.

  Now the weather has a frosted nip to it, and Christmas is right around the corner. On Demand is preparing for a multimillion dollar holiday season, due to our various campaigns.

  “Tamara, I'll be in Los Angeles by Thursday, how is everything at the Sky Bar for Théo’s big event?”

  “For the umpteenth time, the team has squared away final arrangements. Théo is ecstatic about his new line of romance goodies. There's octopus and oysters being flown in. There will be all sorts of phallic and…uh coochie-like food. I got it all covered, big boss.”

  I rub my hands together. “And our Christmas party—”

  “Big boss, I have this covered. Too bad you have to be back up North by Christmas Eve, but we are going to shut down the block with our Christmas party, Siobhan. I can't attest to any holiday bonuses—hint, hint—but the team is ready. Secret Santa is ready. Did you pick your person?”

  I smile. “Um-hmmm, you just want to ensure that I picked you.”

  “Well, at least I have spiked eggnog if you didn't. We have too many guys on the team. I tell you, for them to present such outstanding marketing designs they don't know what’s on a broad’s Christmas list.”

  I chuckle. Lincoln plants himself behind me. “’Ello, Tamara. Big boss got you a purse. Don't worry.”

  “Yesssss!”

  “No, I didn’t buy you a purse,” I chime in as he kisses me.

  “She did. Now I must steal her from you. Good evening.” Lincoln hangs up.

  “Damn you, I had a few more questions.”

  “Like how is Théo’s event or are you all prepared for your holiday party? As if you haven't already been debriefed on both subjects. Siobhan, you are brilliant. Bloody fucking brilliant! Anything you touch is gold, and your team is brilliant by association.” He kisses my neck. “And it's a quarter to six.”

  I sigh heavily. We close-up shop at 5:45 p.m. This is something Lincoln had mentioned about Chrissy. They never got around to putting each other first. Hosea always tried to—

  “And I have this sudden craving for chocolate.”

  I turn around and wrap my arms around him. “Yum, chocolate does a body good, doesn't it?”

  “That's right.” He tastes my mouth once more, biting ever so softly on my bottom lip. A ferocious growl sounds between us.

  Then Lincoln stops. “Blast! What in the bloody hell was that?”

  I smirk. My stomach growled boisterously. “Work hard uh… forget to eat.”

  He scoops me into his arms. “Then we must eat, woman! If you lose that ass, we have a bloody fucking problem
.”

  I can't beat him for laughing. “Hey, most assholes leave their woman when she gets too chunky. I've never heard of any complaints about skinny chicks.”

  “It's a good thing we have open communication skills in order to clear up any confusion,” he says, grabbing my ass. “Between you and me, extra love is always a plus.”

  We get into the kitchen and the ocean is a choppy, roaring rage before us. Some of the waves are in such chaos that they reach up and splash against the window. It used to leave my jaw dropped in a mixture of awe and trepidation.

  Lincoln and I get busy, working in tandem to cook shrimp stir fry with vegetables. He grabs the wok and olive oil, while I pull out vegetables and a cutting board.

  Stepping toward the wall panel, I press the button for the radio. Music streams out of hidden speakers all over. I had the music on in the exercise room earlier while completing yoga stretches. I turn from the upbeat pop music and my favorite singer, Al Green, is belting out “Love and Happiness.”

  Happiness is when you really feel good with somebody…

  As I julienne the carrots on the cutting board, my mind is on Monterey Beach.

  I look up at Lincoln, who is adding olive oil to the wok.

  “Babe, what ever happened with the outcome of the dog tags? I asked, was it two weeks after it happens? You told me …”

  “That obtaining any DNA evidence didn't occur as quickly as it does on television. I thought I spoke with you about this when I returned from San Antonio?” His eyebrow arches.

  I shake my head “no.” “I would have remembered…”

  “Bollocks.” He comes closer to me, pulling me in a hug when my shoulders are taut with a deep yearning to know the truth.

  “The fibers that were analyzed from the dog’s collar didn’t have any traces of DNA on it.”

  “What about where the collar was purchased? Couldn’t Bernard and his people find out who sold the collar and…” I force myself to breathe, imaginary waves roll over me.