Page 38 of A Week To Wed
“The bodice left these marks all over your ribs,” he says. “I can’t believe you let all these things dig into your skin all day long.”
I let out a small laugh and pet his head as he kisses the red lines over my ribs and stomach. “They’re not whalebone anymore. They’re mostly very forgiving these days,” I say. “Oh…oh.”
I gasp at the sensation of Lincoln’s wicked tongue licking up one red indent and down the other, accompanied by tender kisses. He’s so kind and attentive, and affectionate, and all I want is to make the most of this delightful space he’s created for us for tonight.
Not that I’m not enjoying the way his calloused thumbs trace over each line, then tease each hard nipple. Not that I’m not savoring how he looks at me like I’m the most precious creature on the planet.
Lincoln kisses and kisses and kisses me, over my ribs, my stomach, my breasts. He’s tender, but he’s also a tease because all this gentle touching and kissing is making me insane for him.
He can tell right away when I fight the urge to squirm.
“What is it, baby?”
I smile and rise to meet his mouth with a licking kiss. “You’re so sweet to me. I wonder if you can take care of this other thing that hurts.”
Lincoln rises to his knees. “What hurts?” he demands to know.
With a smile, I roll over onto my stomach, spread my legs wide, then come to my hands and knees. I toss my hair, look back at him over my shoulder, and pout.
“I’m just throbbing down there like nobody’s business. Can you help me, cowboy?”
I watch my groom stand at the end of the mattress, drop his trousers and underwear, tug off his tie, and slowly unbutton his shirt. “Are you telling me you’re done with foreplay?”
“Something like that.”
I face forward, hugging the pillow, and prepare myself.
Lincoln plunges his fat cock into my hot, throbbing hole without any further warning. It’s so sudden and shocking that I gasp and cry out with the force of it. The pain is delicious as he slides into my tightness.
“That’s it, princess. That’s my girl. That’s my pussy. Who owns that pussy?”
“You do,” I whisper.
“Whose is this?” Lincoln demands, blanketing my back with his warm chest as he reaches around and tweaks my nipple.
“Ungh…yours,” I squeak.
“Louder, please,” he growls in my ear.
He’s pushing into me with pleasing, languorous thrusts that don’t match his tone.
“You want louder? Make me.”
His wicked laughter ripples across my neck. And then, the hand that’s not rolling my nipple reaches up and plunges his middle finger into my mouth.
“Let’s give that mouth a job to do, eh? Get it nice and wet for me. I have plans, baby girl.”
I whimper and moan as my man pulls out and slams back into me vigorously. My teeth graze over that finger that I slobber on. He’s fucking me good, relentlessly, the sounds of slapping skin utterly melting my brain.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his finger out of my mouth, slowing his pumping, rising to his knees, and slipping that wet finger into my anus.
“Fuck,” I whisper at the intense jolt of sensation between my cheeks.
“Good?”
My only response is to push back against him, begging for more.
He lets go of my breast and fists his hand into my hair, tugging me backward tighter against him. I feel him everywhere except the one spot that’s going to push me over the edge.
