Page 246 of Playing the Pucking Game
With his tongue teasing mine, he walks us backward until my calves hit the bed. Then he lifts me effortlessly from the floor and climbs onto the bed with me in his arms.
He settles me on my back and then shuffles between my legs.
Fire licks at my insides as my heart races.
His kiss doesn’t falter. It goes on and on as if he’s making up for all the years we haven’t been doing it.
But despite our position, he doesn’t push for more.
His restraint and desire to take this slow only make me burn hotter for him.
“Linc,” I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist in an attempt to get us closer.
“Pretty girl, you’re drive me crazy,” he groans, dropping to my side and pulling me into his body.
We make out like a couple of teenagers for the longest time. Our hands roam, learning each other’s bodies, tracing the lines and ridges.
It’s the thing my teenage dreams used to be made of.
And now it’s happening.
Lincoln Storm is in my bed, wearing only a towel, and his hands and lips are all over me.
It’s a heady feeling.
Throwing my leg over his hip, I pull us closer, gasping the second I feel him hard beneath the towel.
He pulls back from our kiss, his lips swollen, his eyes as black as the night, and his chest heaving.
Christ. I did that to him.
Tracing my finger over the intricate ink that covers his chest, I take in each piece that I’ve seen many times before.
I already know the reason behind many of them. But there are a few I’m yet to discover.
His breathing is labored as he watches me explore his body. His abs jump as I trace the lines of his six-pack.
I shift, allowing myself to continue down the design I’m working on, but as my leg moves over his, his towel becomes untucked. One side falls to the bed while I shamelessly continue pushing the other side away, leaving him exposed to me.
“Babe,” he warns as his hard cock bobs between us.
I stare at him. Hard and beautiful with moisture pooling in his slit.
Shuffling closer, I fully hook my leg over his hip, lining us up.
His mouth attacks mine as his length grazes my pussy.
Without breaking our kiss, he rolls me onto my back and settles between my thighs.
Oh yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
He pushes up, holding his weight on an arm planted on either side of my head.
His breath rushes over my skin as his eyes bounce between mine.
“I’ve dreamed about making you mine again every goddamn day for six years,” he tells me quietly, honestly.
“Linc,” I breathe, blown away by everything he’s confessed today.
