He fists the front of my dress, pulling me closer.
“Linc, stop it,” I say, pushing at his chest with no real effort. Because I want it, it’s what I wanted at the table, no matter how frustrated I am with him, I always want him, especially like this.
He holds my dress in one hand, his other sliding down my body and cupping my pussy. Lincoln’s eyes bore into mine, but he doesn’t kiss me as he pushes my panties to the side, sliding his fingers through my embarrassingly wet slit.
“Tell me to stop,” he says.
“We should stop,” I say breathlessly.
His fingers rub tormenting, delicious circles around my clit. His stare is magnetizing, and I don’t look away. I could get lost in his cerulean eyes, even though I know I shouldn’t.
“Tell me I don’t make you feel good, Penny. I know how much you like to fucking lie.”
“Lincoln,” I rasp out his name.
His fingers are basically the eighth wonder of the world as he works me over. The amount of cocktails I’ve had has me feeling the right amount of buzz and I’m nearly over the edge and he hasn’t even put his fingers inside of me.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper.
“You’re not moving out of the building,” he says, sliding two fingers inside of me. His grip on my dress is tight, nearly holding me up as he uses his palm to rub my clit.
“We need to stop this, Linc,” I say, moaning the lie right between my teeth.
He presses his face against mine, still not kissing, but his lips brush against my jaw.
“That’s the fucking problem. I can’t stop,” he says, his palm rubbing me in just the right spot as his fingers curl inside of me. “I can’t stop thinking about you, wanting you, needing you. It’s all your fucking fault, so you have to deal with it.”
It’s fucked up, it’s wrong.
But his words make me come on the spot.
No one has ever been as intense about me as the intense that Lincoln is. It’s addictive. Not only the way he’s seemingly obsessed with me, but I know part of the allure is the wrongness.
We’re not meant to be together.
But despite everything, I want him, I need him just as bad.
He fucks me harder with his fingers, my pussy clenching around his hand as he breathes into my ear. I moan loudly, not able to control how good it feels, not giving a single shit if someone is outside of the door listening. Or the fact that Aiden and Jessa are probably wondering where the both of us are.
I just let myself feel good for a moment. Like nothing except Lincoln and I existing.
My legs are shaky and he pulls his hand away from my wet, traitorous vagina and lets go of my dress.
I go to open my mouth to speak, to say we can’t keep doing this, and he pushes his two wet fingers inside of my mouth and grabs my jaw.
His gaze is serious as he stares at me, holding my jaw and forcing me to taste my release on his fingers.
“You’re not moving and this isn’t fucking over,” he says before turning around, unlocking the door, and leaving me behind.
I lock the door behind him and sit on the toilet, taking care of myself and trying to regulate my breathing. Why am I so fucking weak when it comes to him? And why do I like when he tells me what to do?
Every time I tell him no, he just pushes me harder and I like it.
I like that he’s filthy, that he says and does the right things. I like it even more that he’s so into me.
But I can’t do this.
I can’t get swept away in Lincoln and lose everything.
