Page 14 of Masked March

When I come down from my high, my legs cling to his waist, heels dig firmly into his ass to bring him closer. His forehead rests against mine as he heaves minty breaths into my mouth. The woodsy smell of his skin is unmistakable.I remember it. And I need more of him.

Instead of making a snarky remark, Lincoln gazes into my eyes with wonder. Slowly, his hand glides up my side as he caresses my body and gathers me up into an embrace. “That’s my girl.”

He sits up and drags me with him until I perch on his lap while he’s still deep within my pulsing walls. The angle is even more vulnerable. There’s no space of my body he doesn’t fill. My breasts press to his bare chest, the hairs tickling my skin. Our gazes lock as we hold each other in silence.

“Am I?” I whisper, almost afraid to ask the question.

As if he’s scared to answer, the words breath past his barely parted lips. “Are you what?”

“Your girl.”

A guttural war cry erupts from his chest as his mouth claims mine. It’s more of an answer than his words as his body lifts me off his hard cock and slams me back down, our lips never departing. He swallows my huffed grunt as he works my body like a toy.

His cheek smears against mine as his teeth tug on my earlobe and he grits out, “Always.” The sound travels down my spine like a lightning strike in a daring path toward my pussy. Slapping skin rings through the bedroom and I look between us to watch his muscles flex as he lifts and lowers me. He catches where I’m looking and brings my gaze back up with a finger under my chin. “You gonna come for me again?”

My head falls back and I writhe against his lower abs, working my heated clit over him as he thrusts inside me. “Yes!” It’s inevitable. The build up is more intense than the last now and so is the explosion inside my body and brain. His teeth lock onto a nipple as I fall away, but don’t let go of him. My inner muscles clamp down to keep him right where I need him.

He pulls out suddenly, then flips me over with a bounce on the mattress. Fingers dig into my hips to bring me to his center as he slams back into me. A lurching sound squeaks from my throat. How is he even deeper now? Before I can scramble away, he grips my neck and pulls it back so I gaze into his face as he leans over my back.

“You want to know how much you’re my girl, Mel?”

I can’t make a noise with his hands firmly around my windpipe, but it feels so good, I just nod slightly to encourage him to continue.

With a forceful shove inside, he holds himself near my womb and yells through clenched teeth as he fills me with his cum. His hips move slightly to continue pumping out whatever he has left, and he relaxes his grip on my neck, collapsing on top of me on the bed. He leans on an elbow, but doesn’t slip out of me. His hot girth pulses rapidly inside.

“H-how much?” I manage to ask.

His arms wrap around me tight like I’m in a prison of Lincoln.

And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“I switched out your birth control two months ago.” With a tiny peck against my cheek, he whispers, “Congrats. I think you’re ovulating now.”

I stiffen in his grasp. Words won’t even form in my mind at the shock, terror, and confusion wrestling in it. “L-Lincoln!” The end of my word gets cut off as he spanks the side of my ass with an open palm.

“Ah, ah.Reaper.Or soon to be your husband and the father of your babies.”

“I-I-I…” That’s all I can get out. Lincoln Pierce is still inside me, saying he switched out my birth control. Could I be pregnant? How do I feel about that now?

“Shh, it’s okay. I got us. When you wake up tomorrow, everything will feel right as rain.” Even as he says the words, his dick surges and he shifts his hips. “Just relax and go to sleep. I’ll fill you again as you do.”

His hold is even firmer as he says it, rolling to his side and spooning me. He lifts my upper leg and settles in deeper while kissing my neck. My hand grips the opposite pillow, reaching out for help to squirm away. Or to press myself into him.

It’s all too confusing. And I can’t think about it in the middle of the night. All I know is somewhere between my fifth or sixth orgasm, complaining about how very sore I am, I fall asleep with him still pumping away inside of me.

When I wake up, my nightgown is the way it was when I went to sleep. In fact, the only way I know it wasn’t a fever dream is the absolute burning between my legs and the black paint smeared all over my breasts. As I glance around the room, Lincoln is nowhere to be seen. Except another notecard propped up on my nightstand lamp.

Go to the bathroom.

That’s all it says. No weird riddles or anything.

My feet hit the cold tile floor, searching for my slippers that aren’t there. When I pad into the bathroom, I gasp. Steamy water fills the oversized tub while rose petals floating on the surface. Surrounding the edge are my tea candles already flaming with light. Over the back of a chair lays my robe and slippers on the floor nearby.

Seeing the set up, my shoulders relax as I shrug. May as well indulge. Once I slip in, I take a deep breath of the aromatherapy oils wafting with the swirls of heat toward my face. My bath pillow supports my neck as I slide deeper inside. Everything relaxes inside of me, even the pain in my pussy is gone.

If the bath is still this hot, it must mean Lincoln is nearby. And, as if he answered my question, the man skirts around the corner and presents himself.

Without the mask.

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