“I'm not joking.”
I groan in frustration. How the hell am I supposed to stop myself from coming in my sleep? And then, why would I tell her if that’s the case?
Gabby turns to face me and rests her left hand on my hard cock, stroking it through my boxers once more. Then she stills, allowing her hand to fully rest on it, flattening it against me.
“Good night, Link,” she smiles as she leaves her hand there.
My thigh muscles clench and unclench in restlessness, the pulse of my penis pounding violently beneath her palm.
After fifteen minutes of this torture, me fighting for breath and trying my best to withstand my body’s pleas for mercy, Gabby turns once again onto her left.
With her right hand, she takes my right arm to drape around her. My hand naturally falls by her breast, cupping it.
My erection has never died down. Still kicking strong at about 85%, it once again steels itself to 100 max.
Her ass nestled against me makes it worse. I want to come so badly, and every time she moves against me or my dick throbs against her ass, I threaten to go over. And this horrible,torturous game of cat and mouse lasts for the entire five hours I lie there, no sleep for the rest of the night.
-??-
Chapter 19
Sarah's POV
I keep looking at Lincoln and noticing how pathetic he looks. Clearly things aren’t working out so well with his little wife, and he’s becoming stressed out again, I can see it plain as day. And honestly, I wonder why he agreed to live with this woman again. It’s becoming a problem.
He looksexactlythe way he used to look when he was married to her. He would always come into work tired, disheveled, stressed out, and now he’s wearing theexactsame face he wore back then.
I knew this was going to happen. It’s only a matter of time.
“Hey, are you good?” I ask him.
“Lincoln,” I say again.
Is old boy reallythatdroned out that he can’t hear me? This is getting annoying.
I stare at him a few seconds longer before raising my voice. “Lincoln.”
His eyes blink rapidly, as if he was miles away in his head.
“What the hell is going on with you?” I ask.
“Sorry, what’s up?” he answers, sounding like a man who just woke up on his feet.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” I shoot back.
“Sorry, I’m just really tired,” he replies.
“Why are you so tired?” I ask. Watch him come up with some excuse.
“I… had a long night,” is the only answer he gives me.
“Alongnight?” I echo. “I mean, it was Christmas yesterday. I figured you’d have had a really good time. So what’s going on? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
Somehow I don’t believe him.
“Right,” I mutter, pressing down the urge to smirk. “Look—” I start, and then jump straight to it. “Is it happening again?”
