Handle With Care (Shacking Up 5)

“I’m not into being restrained,” she says.

“And I’m not into restraints, but I need some time without additional sensory input.”

“But I don’t—”

“Fucking hell, Wren. I’m at the edge. I’d really like to make a good impression here, and you’re making that exceedingly difficult.”

“Oh,” she breathes, finally getting it.

“Yeah, oh.” I take a deep breath. “I’d like to let go of your wrists, but I really need you to do me a solid here and keep your hands to yourself until I give you the green light, okay?”

“Okay.” She bites her lip. It’s sweet and sexy, and I don’t think it matters how hard I try, this is probably going to be over a lot faster than I’d like.

I release her hands slowly, because while I trust Wren not to bullshit me and tell me the truth when it comes to Moorehead Media, I don’t necessarily trust her not to put her hands all over me as soon as I set them free.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t move at all, which for some reason jacks me up even more. There’s something about seeing her so willingly submissive that’s an intense turn-on. Probably because it’s rare.

“Lincoln?”

“Yeah, baby?” I stroke her cheek with a knuckle.

“Baby?”

“You like sweetheart or doll better?”

She wrinkles her nose.

“What about little bird?”

“Oh my God, don’t.”

“I could call you mon petit oiseau, if you prefer.”

“Translating it into French doesn’t make it any better.”

“Why don’t you come up with an approved list of pet names you think you can handle and we’ll go from there.”

“Lincoln.”

“Wren.”

“Have you calmed down enough to start fucking me yet?”

“Should we test things out?”

She reaches behind her, looking for something to grab onto. It’s a solid wood headboard—Griffin’s taste, based on the dark stain and simple design—so all she’s met with is smooth, polished walnut.

I drop my head and kiss her throat, moving up to her chin until I’m hovering over her mouth. I give her a test grind, to see how much I can handle.

“Please do that again,” she moans.

I can’t very well say no, so I comply. “How’s that feel?” I ask against her lips.

“So good, Linc. I would really love it if you could keep doing that for like, an hour, maybe two. Totally doable, right?”

“Oh totally, if by an hour or two you actually mean a maximum of three minutes.”

“I’ll settle for three minutes as long as you make me come again.”

I take her mouth and keep up the slow grind. Kissing her is enough of a distraction that I can keep going, which is a relief. I figure if I make it past the three-minute mark, I’m doing okay, so occasionally I break from her mouth and kiss her neck so I can check the time. I’m at five minutes now, but making it past ten would be a solid benchmark goal.

“Stop looking at the clock,” Wren says against my temple.

“I’m not looking at the clock.”

“You are. That’s the third time. Stop worrying about how long you’re lasting, and start worrying about making me come.”

I laugh into her shoulder, following it with a bite.

Wren moans, and her fingers slide into my hair. “Do that again.”

“Bite you?” I ask against her skin.

“Yes, please.”

I give her shoulder a gentle nibble.

“Not like that, like this.” She twists her head, and her lips part against my neck. The wet press of her tongue comes first, followed by the firm scrape of teeth and a sweet sting that ends on a soothing suck.

I mimic the same action.

“Again, again,” she whimpers. “Oh God, I’m close.”

I bite and kiss and suck her neck, worried that I’m going to leave marks, but she keeps murmuring not to stop, so I don’t until she comes.

I push up on my forearms, so I can watch her unravel. Her lips are parted, eyes screwed shut, brow pulled down.

“Wren,” I say, demanding her attention.

Her eyes flutter open, and she groans as another wave hits her, but she fights to hold my gaze while I keep grinding against her. Her nails bite into my scalp, and she chants “oh God” until the orgasm finally wanes. Which means I don’t have to worry about lasting anymore.

I hook an arm under her knee and draw her leg up. And because she’s already come—twice—I feel justified in pumping into her in horny desperation.

That drowsy sated look on her face changes to wide-eyed shocked. Her mouth drops open. “Holy mother of—” She grabs onto my shoulders. “God, Linc, that’s, oh sh—” The sentence turns into a loud moan.

Because she’s coming again.

Because I’m awesome, or just really damn lucky. Which is great since I’m right there with her. There is zero in the way of coordination as I jerk and groan her name, but man, it feels amazing to come in and with another person, especially someone like Wren.

I collapse on top of her and quickly roll to the side, keeping her leg thrown over mine so I can stay inside. I’m half tempted to try to keep going to see if I can get it up again, but I’m wearing a condom, and that’s not safe, so I rub her back and kiss along her throat, enjoying the come down as much as the act.