Wanting more, my mouth ripped from his, my lips pressing into his neck for a second before nipping in, dragging a surprised hiss out of him as his fingers dug into my ass.
Any control he normally possessed slipped away.
His fingers yanked at clothing, desperate for skin.
My shirt hit the floor.
I was never more thankful for my dedication to not wearing a bra unless I absolutely had to as I was in that moment as his lips closed around my nipple, sucking deep.
My head feel back on a moan that got caught in my throat as his teeth suddenly bit, as his thumb and forefinger twisted the other, sending a shock of pain and pleasure through my system, unexpectedly strong in its intensity.
“Oh, my God,” I cried out as he continued, my hands raking down his shoulders, my hips grinding down against him.
Desperate for more, I yanked away, gaining my feet, reaching out to push my pants and panties off my legs, stepping out of them.
Lincoln wasted no time in undoing his pants, in rolling on protection, then getting to his feet, grabbing me, turning me, bending me forward over the arm of the couch, leaving my ass high in the air toward him.
His body moved in behind mine, his air rushing out of him. “Great fucking view,” he rumbled a second before his hand slapped down on my ass, making my whole body jolt at the smarting sensation, the burn left in the aftermath.
I could never claim to be innocent. I had my own experiences before Lincoln just as he’d had before me.
But I’d never been slapped during sex before.
I don’t know if that was because I had never wanted it or because the men I had dated wouldn’t have even suggested such a thing. Or maybe it was a combination of both.
I, by all accounts, was a rather gentle soul. I liked all things soft and sweet and loving.
I never could have known I might enjoy rough, let alone painful.
There was no denying that I was enjoying it, though, as his hand landed another slap in almost the same spot, making the pain a little more intense.
My thighs pressed tightly together, trying to calm the chaos building between, the aching need for fulfillment.
Sensing it, Lincoln’s fingers moved between, thrusting inside me without warning, dragging a moan from me as my walls tightened around him.
“Soaked,” he rumbled, thrusting lazily, twisting, turning, stroking over my top wall, finding my G-spot with expert precision, leaving me writhing and breathless, so close, so ready.
Only to be denied.
“Nope,” he told me, pulling his fingers back out, landing another slap. Then another, lower, closer to where my ass met my thigh. Then inward slightly.
Then right over my sex.
So unexpected.
So unfathomable.
“Fuck,” I cried out, thrusting my ass up further, begging for more, something he happily gave me, slapping a little higher, this time landing a bit more pressure on my clit.
I was pretty sure I came up out of my body for a long moment at the impact.
But before I could even gather a single thought, Lincoln’s cock slammed inside me. Hard. Deep. So deep there was a delicious little pinch that had me whimpering out his name.
His hands moved out, grabbing both my arms, pulling them backward, trapping them at the wrists at my lower back, taking away any ability to move, putting me at his mercy entirely.
There was nothing slow or sweet or loving about Lincoln in that moment, no quiet, unhurried exploration.
His body slammed into mine, each thrust somehow harder than the last, taking every inch of me every time, leaving me writhing, my hips working in impatient circles when he was as deep as my body would allow.
His free hand moved upward, curling into the hair at the nape of my neck, curling, twisting, then yanking almost violently back, forcing my back to arch upward.
The pain across my scalp, the fullness of him inside me, the position allowing him to rock against that hidden place inside, it was all too much.
I lost my ability to cry out, to move, to breathe, to do anything at all but feel the orgasm assault my system, an almost painfully intense sensation that rolled and rolled and rolled until my chest felt tight, until my head felt light.
Just when I was sure I would pass out from the lack of oxygen, the last wave ceased, allowing me to pull in a gasping breath.
Lincoln cursed, planting deep, hissing out my name, releasing my hands, my hair, half curling over me, hand planting right beside my head.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned a moment later, his free hand trying to move my hair out of my face. “You alright, baby?” he asked, voice silky, sated, but also proud. “Worried me there for a second.”
While I was capable of processing his words, that seemed to be the extent of my abilities right that moment.