Her arms are shaking where they hold her up. Sinewy, strong arms, defined by years of dedication. I have no doubt she could knock me out if she wanted, which makes her submission all the sweeter.
Christ, she’s been deprived. It’s a fucking shame. But no more.
By now, I’ve abandoned the game we started, too wrapped up in the reality of her. There’s nothing but her supple skin gripped under my palms, the droplets of sweat collecting along her spine, the sway of her hair as she arches and bucks against me.
“Let go. You don’t have to worry about anything right now. Everything else can wait.”
She doesn’t last long. She’s sensitive and worked up from already coming, and soon she’s pulsing and clenching hard around me, triggering my own release.
Ivy all but collapses when I pull out, falling onto her side with her eyes closed. If she wasn’t still making little whimpers under her breath, I’d swear she was asleep.
Stripping quickly out of my clothes and both of our masks, I gather her up in my arms, kissing the sweat off her shoulder as I deposit her in her bed.
“Do you need anything?” I whisper.
The shake of her head is slow with exhaustion, and I know in that moment I’m going to stay. I don’t want to leave her with answers she won’t remember in the morning or the fear that she isn’t wanted.
So I slip under the covers, wrapping her up tight, and follow her into sleep.
I thought tonight would be enough.
Just a taste to soothe the ache of another lonely year.
But as she clenches and comes again, crying loud enough that the neighbors are likely waking up to the show, I know once could never be enough.
CHAPTER12
WAKE UP, PRINCESS; WELCOME BACK TO REALITY
IVY
There’s a welcome ache between my thighs and an unwelcome one in my chest. I know before I’ve opened my eyes that I’m in trouble.
This is always how it starts.
Lincoln is still here, sleeping soundly beside me. I wiggle out from under the weight of his arm across my waist, stare up at my incredibly boring beige ceiling (I wonder if our mysterious landlord would let me paint it), and start practicing my lines.Thanks for last night. It was fun. See you around.
Anything that saysI like you and the sex was amazing and I want to see you again, but I don’t want to seem too eager in case it puts you off, but, like, in an effortlessly cool way.
I turn my face completely into the pillow and release a long sigh.
Last night was a dream that is going to be stamped on my soul for the rest of my life.
Practiced and careful (two words I never imagined calling myself), I roll out of bed and get dressed, throwing on a black sports bra and leggings before throwing my hair into a ponytail.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve run this scene— men, women, prefer not to say— I’ve been here before.
See, I have a worrying habit of forming a crush and running faster than an Olympic medalist. Going from like to monogrammed towels overnight. Which is why I keep things casual. As soon as I get too attached, it’s time to bow out, find the understudy.
I’m no nurse, but I’ve patched up enough of my own heartbreak that I should have an honorary degree in cardiology.
Stretching, I check the time. Six a.m. That’s what I get for being an early riser. It’s not like my body cares that I was up late getting fucked so well I think Lincoln’s dick has added a few years to my lifespan.
He’s even more gorgeous in broad daylight. The lingering buzz of last night’s Prosecco does nothing to dull the curve of his pecs, the V of his hips, the thick presence of his dick.
I hadn’t realized how much of his body was covered in tattoos. Pieces connecting over his chest, stomach,those thighs.A map. The snake I admired so much last night, smoke, vines, a glorious replication of The Kiss. My mouth waters as I follow the lines of each illustration where they wrap over the muscle and under his cock.
I lick my lips.
