She's already on the verge, her inner muscles spasming around my fingers, clenching like they're trying to pull me deeper. I flick her clit, adding another finger to stretch her, and she goes over with a sharp cry, her nails embedded in my forearms.
She shakes and shivers and moans her way through it, making me so fucking hard it hurts. So desperate, I can't think.
I spin her around, easing her down onto the sofa. She stares up at me, her eyes wide and dilated.
"Need to taste you," I growl, dropping to my knees between her legs. My fingers hook into the sides of her panties, dragging them down her legs, over one stiletto and then the other. I tuck them into my pocket instead of tossing them, determined to keep them.
She blushes when I spread her wider, my eyes locked on her pussy. She's bare and dripping, so fucking pink and juicy. "Christ, baby," I breathe, pressing my forehead to her thigh. "I just want to wreck it, just feast and fuck until you can't stand not having me all over you."
"Please," she groans, tugging at my hair, trying to get my mouth on her.
I run my lips up her inner thigh, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work. Not when I can taste her already. Not when I can smell her.
I groan and give up, yanking her ass off the edge of the sofa before burying my face in her pussy.
"Lincoln!" she shouts, bucking against my lips.
I hold her in place, eating her loud and messy. My tongue is everywhere, and so are my lips. I want to drown in her, just cover myself in her so I'm breathing her every minute of the day.
She tastes like my future.
I sink two fingers inside her, fucking her with them. And then I add a third, stretching her…wrecking her. Her sobs spill out around us, filling the store with the sounds of her pleasure.
She shatters with my name on her lips, coming so hard she convulses. And when she does, I realize just how thoroughly fucked I am because I already want more. So goddamn badly, I know that I'll never get enough of her.
Chapter Six
Lilah
Lincoln is gorgeous every minute of the day, but when he looks up at me from between my legs, his face wet with my juices, enough heat banked in his eye to start a forest fire, he's a level of sexy I can't even comprehend. All I can do is reach for him, desperate to feel him inside of me. I'll deal withthe repercussions and ramifications later. Right now, they don't matter. The only thing that matters is the way he's looking at me and the way my entire body aches for him.
"You taste like my new addiction, little bookworm," he drawls, sliding up my body until he's hovering over me on the sofa, his lips inches from mine.
I lean up, kissing him. My taste is all over him, but I don't mind. There's something sexy about it, about the way he's covered in me. I whimper into his mouth, my hand sliding down his abdomen toward his cock.
"Fuck," he groans, bucking into my hand when I wrap it around his length through his slacks. And sweet Jesus, he's so fucking big. He's going to split me in two, and make sure I know he was there come tomorrow.
"I need you," I whisper, fighting with his zipper to get it undone.
"Then take me out, sweetness," he orders, his voice all bossy impatience and gritty desperation. "Wrap that pretty little hand around me and put me inside."
My core clenches, another wave of heat rolling through me.
He shifts us around on the sofa while I fight with his zipper, finally getting it down. My hand disappears into his pants, wrapping around his hard cock. Jesus. He's so fucking long and thick.
"You're going to break me with this thing, Lincoln."
"No." His lips brush mine before he nips at my throat. "I'm going to wreck you with it."
Yeah, I think he might. I think he's already wrecking me. All night, I've tried to remind myself to be cautious with him, to guard my heart. And all night, I just kept finding more reasons to like him. He's nothing like I thought he was. I don't think he's like any billionaire I've ever met before. He's…better. In ways that are as beautiful as they are terrifying.
If I'm not careful, he's going to steal my whole heart. I already feel it happening, feel my resolve weakening. And I don't care nearly as much as I probably should.
"Goddamn," he growls, writhing above me. "That hand is torture."
"Yeah? Does this mean you don't want to know if my mouth is any better?" I tease, my voice shaky and breathless as I stroke him, squeezing just enough to make sure he feels me.
His gaze immediately jumps to my lips, his eyes darkening. "Oh, I definitely want to know," he groans. "But I know if I do, I'll be coming down your pretty little throat instead of inside you."
