Page 22 of A Week To Wed
“Holy hell,” he breathes. “Look at you.”
Lincoln’s hand drops to my shoulder and down the length of my arm until he has my fingers up close to his face. He kisses each of my knuckles, my entire body buzzing with electricity at every touch of his lips.
His gaze moves to my breasts again, and it seems as if the color in his eyes changes from liquid honey to dark amber. He meets my gaze, lets go of my hand, and cups my breast, running one thumb over my nipple.
My nipple tightens so hard it aches under his touch while the rest of me turns to molten lava.
“Beautiful,” Lincoln murmurs, angling down to take one nipple into his mouth while stroking the other. The twin sensations make me reach up and fist my hands in his short-cropped dark hair.
When one hand roams downward to my hip, then over to cup one entire cheek, squeezing, the need in me forces me to rock my hips forward into the long, hard mass between us. I bite my bottom lip, fighting the urge to moan out loud.
So gently, Lincoln grazes his teeth over my nipple, and I nearly lose it. I gasp when he lets go and repeats that same movement to my other nipple.
“Thank you, Maisy,” he murmurs against my breastbone. His breath heats my skin, his face nuzzling back and forth there.
“For what?” My words are faint; my entire body is liquid.
“For being mine.”
I want to laugh and remind him that he’s the one who ordered me. But that’s not what he means, and I know it.
“Lincoln,” I whisper, lowering one hand between us and letting the back of it brush against his hard length. “Let me take care of this for you.”
He lets out a soft groan as I stroke up and down the rigid shaft, then rumbles, “Not time yet. You come first, baby.”
The word “baby”—spoken sincerely and not for the benefit of a wedding vendor who wouldn’t understand our situation—wrecks me.
“Should we take this to the bedroom?” I rasp.
His eyes hooded, he nods slowly, then bends down to pick up my satin robe before hooking one arm under my legs and the other around my hips. I gasp as I’m lifted against his chest, one of my arms going around his shoulder and gripping his hard trapezius muscle. My other hand brazenly goes to Lincoln’s chest, where I caress the soft material of the tee shirt.
He carries me to his room and sets me down on the edge of the bed.
“Lights on or lights off?” He cocks his head and looks down at me, running his fingers through my hair.
“I’ve never done it with the lights on. How about off for the first time? And then, we’ll see how it goes.”
Lincoln reaches back and switches off the light, and the rustling I hear can only be him slipping out of his clothes.
I am aflame with curiosity, but I mostly want to touch him. I want him on the bed with me, holding, caressing, and fucking me.
I get the sense of what he meant by “you come first” when I feel the edge of the bed move and feel his bare chest against the front of my legs.
Lincoln’s rough hand rubs over the tops of my feet, then upward, gripping my ankles. I feel him place a soft kiss on the inside of my calf, then trail his lips upward, higher and higher. The touch of his lips to the inside of my knee sends shockwaves straight to my sex.
I’ve never been handled quite like this. No one has ever showered me with this many kisses, so many slow and intentional caresses. This man has no games to play with me. He just wants to sweep those strong, hungry lips up the tender skin inside my thigh and keep going.
I hold my breath when he hauls my legs up, resting the backs of my knees on each shoulder. I know where this is going. I’ve known it for several minutes now while my legs have been massaged and kissed.
But now, my legs are planted on his shoulders, and I can feel his forehead on my lower tummy, and his lips graze over the skin close to my cleft.
He’s torturing me. He wants me to die of need, or he wants me to come without ever even touching my clit.
I can’t stop my hands from going to his head. My fingers smooth over that short-cropped hair in slow, controlled movements. I have to take control of something because I may burst at any second.
And finally, Lincoln’s head moves lower, and he licks apart my split.
I’m already so wet, yet the touch of his tongue and lips to my nerve endings have me dripping and leaking. His tongue travels down, inching inside me, then pulling out and licking, kissing back up toward my clit. He winds soft circles around the tight bundle of nerves that have me bucking and jerking.
