Gifted Connections 4

I whirled on him, my hair whipping me in my face and sticking to my sweaty cheeks. “Not all of us want to be surgically enhanced like your girlfriends. If you don’t like what you see, I really don’t give a crap. Leave. We all know you’ll get tired of this role soon anyway.”

“Do you really have room to act jealous about my past exploits when you entertain six men on the daily?” Lincoln glared at me. “I never said you should be surgically enhanced, but no one likes rubbing on sticks. At least us real men don’t. Maybe some of your boyfriends like that scary skinny body you’re aiming for.”

I dropped the “F” bomb, not caring to rein it back as I launched myself at him. He was ready for me as he blocked the punch I had aimed at his face. “I am not scary skinny. I have an ass and boobs. My men love me no matter how I look. I know that’s a hard concept since you live among the plastics.”

I aimed a sidekick to his side. He deflected it once more. “Those men are no better than your lap dogs. They’ll say anything in hopes that you’ll bestow your graces upon them and ask them to share your bed with them. In truth, it’s hard to even call them men when they’ve lost their card and given it to you,” he said as he parried out of the way.

“We all have our roles. We didn’t choose them. I know it’s a hard concept to understand for a man that’s so used to being the center of attention and having women constantly throwing themselves at you. It’s hard to realize that the role of your life hasn’t cast you as the leading man,” I bit out as I tried to do a kick combo on him. I landed one of them and couldn’t help but smile.

“And like sheep, they will go to their slaughter. Eagerly falling off the cliff because their shepherd has no concept on how to protect them,” Lincoln said sarcastically. “We all know you are no longer eligible for active status, and instead of swallowing your pride, you’re willing to send them on a mission without you. Imagine if one of them doesn’t return because you were too selfish and you weren’t there to possibly save them. It’s not that hard to talk to a man that won’t be able to tell anyone about your sessions. The only man who separates you from doing your role.”

“Screw you,” I hissed at him before I launched more attacks against him.

I wasn’t ready when he finally captured one of my legs. He held onto it as he swept my other leg out from under me. I landed on my back with a whoosh of air leaving my lungs. He had controlled my fall, but I still felt it.

“You don’t know me. You have no clue. That man has no right to tell me if I’m fit for duty,” I hissed at him, not bothering to get up from my prone position. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that some of his words rang true.

“But you aren’t fit, Blake,” he nearly yelled at me as he took a seat next to me. He was winded, and I was perversely satisfied to know I had made him that way. “I know I don’t know everything about you but I can.”

“So help me if you jump me,” I sat up and glared at him.

“I don’t need to,” he contended. “I saw the shell of the woman you became the other day when the lights went off. I know PTSD when I see it. I hear you at night cry out until one of the guys have to…soothe you. Someone screwed you up, and continually denying it won’t make it go away, and it’s not fair to your family or those guys.”

“I don’t have PTSD. I’m fine,” I maintained. “I struggle with some things, but who doesn’t? I’ll get over it. I always do.”

He snorted. “You can’t pour from an empty cup, Blake. I know that. Dr. Wong knows that. You’re the only one who doesn’t see it. Face your demons before they not only harm you but everyone else around you. Sometimes you have to know when you can’t fight the battle alone and seek help. All the things that have happened to you have piled up to monumental proportions, and there’s no ‘just getting over it.’”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” I said sarcastically.

“Dammit, Blake,” he cursed. “You are so damn stubborn.”

I went to stand up but was abruptly yanked back down, and I found myself on my back once more. “Not so tough now, are we?” he said smugly. “Next time you want to get rid of that anger, I know better, more productive ways to do so.”

It was at that moment I realized that he had purposely pushed me. That he let me take my anger and frustrations out on him. He may have meant some of the words he uttered, but most of them were said to get a rise from me.

Before I could even utter a word, his mouth was on mine. Demanding submission and entrance. His tongue intertwined with mine, and I dug my fingers into his shoulders.

I never imagined myself as ever enjoying angry sex. Generally, when I got angry, I needed to walk away and cool off. My emotions were too high to deal with anything else but my anger. I didn’t know why or how Lincoln was capable of switching that switch so quickly.

One moment I was angry as hell, and the next thing I knew I was ripping off his clothes as he was ripping off my clothes. Our angry movements didn’t stop until he buried himself deep within in me.

He paused for a second. “Shi

t I’m sorry, Blake,” he muttered as he kissed the tip of my nose. “I didn’t mean for it to end this way.”

I didn’t know what he was sorry for. I knew he had intentionally pushed me. Made me face myself. Or maybe he was sorry that, again, one of our arguments ended in sex.

I saw the remorse and realization sink in, and I didn’t want him to leave me. Not now. I had a fire within that didn’t go away with my run or with our impromptu fighting match. Maybe this would help.

“Don’t,” I bade him before I wrapped my legs around his hips and squeezed him. “I’m sorry, too. You really know how to push a girl's buttons.”

“Kettle, meet pot,” he muttered before lowering his head back down to mine and pushing back into me.

I mewed against his lips before thrusting my hips into his. “You intentionally antagonized me,” I accused him before I bit his shoulder.

He hissed and drove into me with more intense strokes. “We both know bluntness and straightforwardness is the best way to approach you when you are in that frame of mind.”

“You don’t know me,” I moaned as I denied his words. Knowing he was right.