But I also want him to take his sweet time, to rend me in two, to make me remember what he’s doing long after I’m just another memory.
I know this won’t last, but I’ve made my peace with it.
One smoldering night with Lincoln Burns is worth a thousand nights with forgettable men.
In a single slow breath, I feel strong hands clutching my thighs. He parts them with ease and I fall flat on the bed. I’m on my back with my legs in the air.
Lincoln stands still, clasping one ankle in each hand as he rises. He presses his lips to the arch of my foot.
The sensation makes me giggle.
Soon, he’s winding up again, kissing my ankle and moving up the inside of my leg one soft kiss at a time. By the time he reaches my thigh, I’m clawing at the sheets.
Keep going.
Oh, God.
Please.
I swear he can read my mind.
Because Lincoln moves to my other leg, pushing his mouth against my inner thigh. He kisses down the too sensitive inside of my leg, adding an unexpected nip of teeth.
I’m shaking.
Desire courses through me like a relentless wave, too strong and too serious to even let me laugh this time.
Lincoln turns me gently, slowly, so I’m now vertical on the bed.
His massive, shirtless bulk climbs over me, making me feel a hint of his weight, his power.
He brings his mouth to mine with a claiming stroke of tongue.
Hotter than ever.
He kisses me with depth and meaning and a message I can’t ignore.
Tonight, I own you, he says with every kiss. Tonight, Nevermore, you’re due to be fucked in ways you never knew were possible.
My nails dig at his shoulders. I trace his lips with my tongue.
His mouth opens, and I glide in, chasing after his demanding tongue.
My hands go to the button of his pants. He puts a hand over them and breaks our kiss.
“How many times do I need to tell you? Not yet.”
His eyes are glinting so hot it hurts.
“You’ll give me a heart attack,” I whisper.
“I’ll resuscitate you then. I think you see I know a thing or two about CPR.” He gives me an evil wink right before his mouth crushes mine again.
This man.
This absolutely cocky, brash, chiseled man.
I try to match his passion as his tongue caresses mine, as his teeth graze my bottom lip. I’m rewarded with a guttural “fuck” thrown from his mouth.
Yes. Please. I so want you to.
But he means what he says about taking me apart on his terms. When he moves away from my mouth, it’s to kiss a neat, burning line from my cheek to my ear. His hands find my wrists and shove me down, pinning me to the bed while I push back against him.
“See? Told you I’d make you squirm,” he growls.
I’m about to protest, but his tongue traces my earlobe and shoots down, attacking my throat.
I whimper.
“You’re so goddamned gorgeous when you light up,” he mutters, and then his mouth is back on mine. His arms slide under my back and he pulls me closer, a glimmer in his eye that says he wants to make every last bit of me shine like the sun.
And he’s closer than he thinks.
I’m utterly soaked. Trembling and aching. Too close to an explosive end without even having him inside me.
That’s never happened before with a man.
Not even close.
With a throaty sigh, I wrap my legs around his waist, arching into him.
Thunder boils up his throat and his face screws up.
It’s almost that scary-hot look I see around the office—except ten times more intense—and I nearly come on the spot.
Somehow, I buck against him again, pushing my legs around his.
With a snarl, he pushes me down and flips me around. His thick hands find my zipper and he rips it fully down. I help shimmy the dress away as he slides it out from under me.
My turn now.
When my hands move to his pants, Lincoln doesn’t stop me. I unbutton his slacks and push them down.
I gasp at the bulge outlined in his boxers.
Considering he’s Big Dick energy incarnate, I should’ve expected as much.
But seeing it in the flesh is—holy hell.
“Are you just going to stare, Nevermore, when you like what you see?” he whispers darkly.
Oof. I think I need a paper bag to breathe into.
Especially when he pushes me back and takes my nipple in his mouth again.
With almost nothing left between us, the flick of his tongue feels a million times better than before. My head rolls back as I moan loudly.
It’s hard to touch him, even though I want to, like I’m laying hands on some rare, exotic beast.
I stroke his back with my hands.
Down, down, down...until I hit the elastic waistband.
I tug at his boxers and he lets me—thank God—pushing them down. Then my hand circles around, brushing against his hard length.