Page 33 of Carry On
Hetookcontrol,andI let him. Across the living room, through to his bedroom, up against the door. It was easy to give in—to do whatever the hell he wanted me to. I needed the escape from my own head, and losing myself in Lincoln was easier than breathing. He matched my need to drown kiss for kiss, touch for touch. The medication had me numb, but Lincoln made me feel something. A good something.
I wanted that. I needed that. I’d do whatever he wanted for it.
I practically tripped over my own feet as he dragged me with him toward the bed. His shirt, my jeans, his sweatpants. My hands roamed his body, appreciating every hard edge and soft dip. Lincoln was perfection in a way that was dangerous and hot all rolled into one.
I dropped to the bed, and his weight over me was a blanket I didn’t know I needed. His tongue ran up the side of my neck, making me moan, while he settled between my legs. My head tipped back as he continued to kiss, lick, and suck my flesh. The friction of his cock against mine had me leaking precum against my stomach. Every roll of his hips was delicious torture. I slipped my hand between us and wrapped my fingers around both our cocks, needing more.
“Not yet,” Lincoln said quickly, knocking it away and pinning my wrist to the bed. I let out a groan of frustration, but the sound only made himchuckle. Fuck, I liked the sound of his laugh a little too much. I liked being the one to make him laugh.
Is this your best idea?the voice asked, ebbing its way into the forefront of my mind.Do you really think he wants you?
I squeezed my eyes shut harder and forced the doubt back. Weaving my fingers through his thick hair, I used the soft texture to ground me—to pull me out of my head. His teeth nipped at my skin as he kissed his way down my body.
“Harder,” I ordered, needing something more. He obliged all too readily, and the sharp bite of his teeth was enough to make me gasp. My cock leaked, twitching against my stomach with anticipation. He smoothed the flat of his tongue over the bite mark, but I shook my head, not like he was paying attention.
I didn’t want his comfort. I wanted the pain.
Lincoln made his way down my body, alternating between biting and licking the marks he left. There’d be bruises in the morning, and I wanted them. The heat weaving down my spine was overwhelming, and the desperation to come was ever-pressing.
“Faster, Linc,” I ordered, needing his mouth on my cock.
“Patience, Nash,” he retorted. Damn it. I didn’t like that plan at all. My fingers tightened in his hair as a means to urge him on, but it didn’t work.
His mouth drifted along my hip bones, across my inner thighs, and over my lower stomach. Every time he neared—every time I thought he would—he moved right back to teasing me.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, and again, he just laughed. That sound deliciously coiled through my core. I may have hated waiting, but I sure as hell didn’t mind that laugh.
“The urge to tie you down and make you wait for it,” Lincoln commented. My head lifted off the pillow, catching his gaze, as I arched a brow curiously.
“Little bit of a freak there, aren’t you?” I asked.
“Coconut oil.” He said the words so matter-of-factly, like it proved his point.
“It’s organic,” I scoffed. “It—”
His mouth dropped on my cock, taking all of me until I pushed into the back of his throat. The shock of heat and wetness had the air rushing frommy lungs. The strained sound I let out was unintelligible as my head fell back on the pillow. His chuckle vibrated down my length, and I felt it deep in my balls.
I was hot and cold, a mess of unrecognizable sounds, as he worked my cock with a kind of expertise that should’ve been illegal. Licking, sucking, nibbling. Up and down, twisting, and some kind of motion I couldn’t put words to. I was completely at his mercy without a single fucking complaint. Every time I was positive I would lose it, he backed off. Over and over until I was a panting, desire-driven thing who couldn’t form a sentence to save my life.
“Holy fuck,” I managed to breathe out as he nipped at my hip. “Put me out of my misery… holy fuck.”
“Misery?” Lincoln smirked, a look far too sexy on him. His tongue flicked over my slit, and I whimpered. I fucking whimpered. Involuntarily, but still. The things this man could do with his mouth were sinful. “If you’re miserable, maybe I need to double down and try harder.”
“I swear to fucking God—”
“Oh, quit your whining,” he interrupted. He leaned over my body to grab lube from inside the nightstand, and those blue eyes held mine. “If I wanted you to whine, Nash, I’d use a different technique.”
This man was a freak. There was no denying that. It wasn’t like I was complaining either.
I did my best to contain my impatience as he stroked my throbbing dick, covering me in lube. His motions were pointedly slow to tease me. It was written all over his face as he watched my reaction. The fucking tease.
My cock throbbed while Lincoln straddled my waist. I pumped my length twice, needing some kind of relief, as he made himself comfortable on top of me. I grabbed his hips when he lowered down, the crown of my cock pressing into that tight ring of muscles. He took his time, barely giving me an inch inside him.
Too slow. The man needed to move faster. I wanted to be buried so far inside him that I felt all of him everywhere. My fingers dug into his flesh, and I tried to take over, but he stopped. One palm pushed hard on my chest to hold me in place.
“Just because I like how your dick feels when you fuck me doesn’t mean you get to be in charge every time,” Lincoln said. The cocky tone of his was a turn-on, and I relented immediately.
“All right,” I replied. My hands drifted over his hips and smoothed down his thighs. “Show me how you ride my cock, Linc. Show me how you like to take charge.”
