“N-no, Lincoln,” I manage, my thoughts barely coherent.
They scatter even further when he drapes my legs over his impossibly strong shoulders, folds me in half and bears down on my clit with rough drags of his tongue.
My scream shatters the serenity of the lagoon.
I can’t move, he’s holding me so securely. All I can do is dig my fingertips into his hair and face the onslaught of bliss. His tongue never ceases, never slows, rubbing me there in aggressive circles, his animal grunts increasing my pleasure with their vibrations.
“Oh my goodness,” I wail, throwing my head back, trying to be a good girl and give Lincoln what I sense he needs by letting him spreading my thighs as wide as they’ll go. “Oh, I think…I think I’m going to…”
Just as the crackles begin in my ears and my femininity clenches hotly, Lincoln drills his tongue high and tight into my sex and this time, my scream is likely heard in New York City. My hips buck off the earth, my heels grinding into the taut muscles of Lincoln’s back. A bolt inside me loosens and euphoria implodes deep in my core, sending me into a shaking fit.
I’m crying and whining and chanting Lincoln’s name as he prowls up my body, his fingers shaking as they untie his shorts. I’m only given a brief, life-altering glimpse of his thick, heavy shaft before he’s pushing it between my lips. “Fuck me, your come tastes like hot sugar, baby.” He pries my jaw wider, settling his thighs on either side of my head. “Come on, little girl. Get that mouth open. Give me what I need.”
Salt and man and flesh greet my taste buds, the substantial weight of his erection anchoring me physically, emotionally, his hips beginning to work in insistent strokes. With choked groans of my name, he plunges his pulsing rod halfway into my mouth, cramming me to capacity, then easing it out, in, out, in, out, in.
“Ahhhhhh.” He fists my hair in his right hand, holding me still for his thrusts and my eyes tear with pride over the visible pleasure I’m giving him. “Yeah, you’re giving me that virgin mouth, aren’t you, little girl? Confused or not, you just know you like it. You know you were meant to swallow that big cock.”
Swallow.
My mind registers what Lincoln wants and my body reacts, desperate to give it to him. Up until now, he’s only reached the start of my throat, but I relax that soft tunnel now and let his thick head breach that resistance. There’s an urge to choke when his thickness fills my throat, but I forget the discomfort when Lincoln hits his peak, his ancient warrior body flexing in the sunlight and shuddering. His hips whip up and back in jagged movements, his fist tightening in my hair as salt floods my throat.
“Christ. Christ. Suck Daddy down. Oh sweet Jesus. Yes.” His hips undulate madly, his heavy balls pressing to the underside of my chin, his shaft fully seated inside my mouth and throat now, jerking as it spurts hot liquid onto my glands. “Perfect little girl. You’re a perfect little girl for Daddy. Fuuuuuck.”
I breathe through my nose for long moments, drowsy in my enjoyment of experiencing Lincoln’s orgasm along with him, until finally he drops down beside me, his chiseled chest sweating and heaving. I struggle to catch my breath as well, but I’m barely given the chance before he pulls me up against him—
And I get my first hug since I was a child.
A sob explodes from me and I embrace Lincoln back, wrapping my legs around his hips as much as possible and clinging, my mind and body carried away on the rush of both intimacies. Sex and affection. The former of which I’ve needed since meeting this man, the latter of which I’ve been starved for forever. And I never want either pleasure from anyone else but this man. Not ever.
“I love you, Lincoln,” I say, letting his chest hair absorb my tears.
He pulls back enough to make blistering eye contact, intense wonder etched into the face that has become beloved to me overnight. “I love you, too, Nova.”
* * *
Lincoln carries me the entire way home, cradling me to his chest like a long-lost treasure.
I don’t even care that I’m almost completely naked, because I’m wrapped up in the man and his love and there’s nothing I need more than that.
Based on the shape of the coastline, I can tell we’re almost at the house on the cliff and I can’t wait to get inside. Home. To be with Lincoln again in ways I don’t know exist yet.
“I’ll set up an office here. We’ll split our time between the island and New York.” His sure, determined voice, the way he makes plans that include me, makes me want his mouth between my legs again. Makes me feel safe and wanted. “But promise me not to walk through Manhattan barefoot, Nova,” he says, a smile playing around his mouth.