It made me feel a little better, but it was like an appetiser at a cocktail party when you were ready to eat the entire banquet. I guess it took longer than I figured, because by the time I’m dressed in my cut off denim shorts, a loose black band tank and my long stripy socks, the house is weirdly quiet. Probably a good thing, because the only shorts I had in my emergency bag from my Jeep are the ones cut so high my ass cheeks spill out of, but they are so comfortable.
A small part of me is a little disappointed that despite all his teasing, Gabe is not hiding out in my bed. But Ares is. The second he sees me he jumps off; the giant oaf gets a slap on his beefy ass for napping on the bed even for a few minutes. He knows the rules.
I’m one of those people who takes things so literally, and since Lincoln kept insisting that I make myself at home, I do just that. Ares prowls along silently next to me while I skate over the expensive marble floors in search of the kitchen. And I’m not being presumptuous and helping myself to the food in Lincoln’s fridge. I stocked up at the supermarket when we stopped earlier. Pouring a glass of wine from the bottle left on the granite bench top, I dice up raw steak and chicken and add grated carrots, rice and some of the vitamin drops that Luke said would help Ares heal better. You can already see that Ares is putting more and more weight on his paw.
Grabbing the bottle, and Ares massive bowl of food, I open a set of French doors off the kitchen and find a place to sit.
I probably should do some more work. I’ve been offline too long, but I’m not in the mood to talk business. I’m in the mood to drink and have sex, but since they’ve all disappeared, it looks like the wine wins.
The earlier riser birds are beginning to sing when Ares hops up to his feet after snoozing peacefully at mine. I hear him trot through the house before he comes back out and goes down the side of the house.
I watch the darkest shadows slowly start to lighten; the morning is peaceful and exactly what I need after the chaos from earlier. And I know I’m being watched while I sip on my wine. I’m not sure what Lincoln is waiting for, but when I turn to look at him, finding him immediately, he pushes off the side of his home and comes to me. Clearly, he’s been swimming. He’s got a fluffy robe on and is drying his hair off.
“Hello, dove.”
His voice is whisper quiet, like he doesn’t want to break the peace of the morning, but all he does is seem to make it even more serene. He winks as he drops a towel over a wicker patio chair before he disappears around to the kitchen. I hear him rummaging around inside talking to Ares in his low commanding voice before he comes outside, changed into a pair of dark sweats and a loose tank top. Fuck me, Lincoln MacGregor is perfectly cut in his ageless glory.
He sits next to me, holding his glass out for me to pour him a wine. Once it’s full, he places it next to him before picking me up and putting me in between his legs, wrapping one arm around my shoulders and dropping his chin, holding me like we’ve been star-crossed lovers for a few past lives. And he doesn’t let me go as we finish off the bottle and watch the sunrise.
I sink back into him. Reflection and quietness are easy. And sitting with Lincoln, a little drunk, watching the morning change slowly on a private island, I feel good.
We don’t say a word, but his thumb trails softly over my ribs every once in a while, and with it comes another flicker of heat. I shuffle slightly, still enjoying being pressed against his chest, but I hook one of my legs over the top of his, and I hear his deep inhale as he smells what I want him to do. There are some serious benefits to being an omega. His thumb hooks up higher, brushing the underside of my breast before his botanical, juniper inspired scent touches over me as well, letting me know what he thinks of my interest. And it’s not a no.
Lincoln puts his empty wine glass down, brushing the hair off my shoulder before placing one hand over a small scar on my throat, drawing me closer to his body, ensuring neither of us are misinterpreting what is happening. Moving his hand from on top of my clothes to under my t-shirt, he sighs deeply when his fingers graze my skin and groans low when he cups my breast. I moan softly when he squeezes the flesh. Dropping my head back against his shoulder, I close my eyes, adoring his commanding and unhurried exploration of my body. Between two of his fingers, he captures my nipple so he can tease it while he keeps massaging the flesh.
“Touch yourself,” he whispers into my ear. I want him to push his lips against my skin, but he stays close enough so I feel his breath but far enough away that I long for his mouth on me.
“Take me to bed,” I suggest and/or plead.
“I’ll take you to bed to sleep after I watch you come on your fingers, but I won’t take you to bed to fuck. Yet. You’re tired and have been drinking, and I need to explain how our relationship will proceed, but this morning you can give me a taste of how wildly perfect you will be for me.”
“Please, Lincoln. I need you.”
“You need to listen and do what you’re told,” he demands, and his fingers twist over my nipple, pinching the overly sensitive bud hard, inciting a rush of pleasure through my blood.
“Touch yourself,” he murmurs softly, a stirring of his dominance adding to his touch on my skin, making every small brush seem so much more. He makes it impossible for me to misinterpret anything he does; he’s expecting my obedience. And I give it willingly to him.
His knee lifts up, pulling the leg I hooked over his, spreading me wide open, a rush of my floral scent as obvious as the clear morning around us.
“Put your fingers in your pussy, dove, let me hear your pleasure and know how much it turns me on to be the one to hold you as you fall apart.”
He tugs my nipple when I take too long to do as he said, but with the sting of his reminder, I touch myself.
“Ares, go,” Lincoln hisses like an afterthought.
“He won’t listen to you,” I groan softly.
But my dog gets up and takes himself inside, a soft chuckle coming from behind me before Lincoln fists my breast, squeezing it aggressively and increasing the pressure until I shut my eyes to stop the soft grunt of pain on my lips, but it is such a heady pleasure. He keeps adding more pressure until my fingers dip and curl inside my body. When he releases his massive hand the rush of release drops straight down to my pussy making me feel like I’ve wet myself.
“Swap hands, give me your fingers to taste.” He speaks straight into my ear, although no one else in the world would be able to hear with how quiet he is.
Pulling my fingers out of my pussy, my walls clamp around myself like I don’t want this to end, but Lincoln’s thumb nail starts plucking against my peaked aching nipple at his impatience.
I reach my hand behind me, his mouth on my fingers an instant later, and the man waits until I push my other fingers back inside my pussy before he shows me with his mouth how he wants me to finger myself. Lincoln fucks my fingers with his mouth, there is no other way to describe what he does. I close my eyes and moan at the way he does it before he drops his hand from around my throat, wrapping his massive hand around mine, his thick fingers gloving me before he thrusts our hands in and out my body.
“Let me feel you wrapping your tight little cunt around my fingers, omega. Show me how you’ll hold my cock when I let you have me,” he murmurs in his deep rumbling voice, which only adds to the vibrations coursing through me.
He grabs a piece of the denim of my shorts somehow, rubbing it hard over me. The added texture and burn against the outside of my pussy mixes with the way he stretches me inside, and I squeeze around him, crying out when he fists my tit so hard tears dot my vision while I sink into the most intensive build up to an orgasm I have ever experienced.
