She whimpers like a wounded kitten when I pull my cock out of her throat but then starts moaning when she holds the girth of my dick in one hand, while hollowing her cheeks and sucking on the slit of my leaking cock head.
“Lincoln,” she whimpers breathily between each long and lazy lick of her tongue.
Her small moans pick up, her breathing chops and changes, but I don’t need to hear her impending peak. I can feel the way her tight pussy starts pulsing. As I nip over her clit, she drops all her weight down on my face at the exact moment I thrust my cock back inside her throat, my knot pushing against her nose. The both of us swallow each other’s messy releases, and her hips keep flicking back and forth as it starts confirming how much of a greedy lover my dove will be.
Turning slightly, her pussy grinds over my chin, her pleasure riding her hard, I flick her clit before letting it fall from my mouth and biting her scarred flesh hard enough to add my mark to it. And her long low moan lets me know I made her fall apart again; in case I missed the way her pussy leaks. She is incredibly responsive.
She flops over, completely spent, though she doesn’t let go of her stranglehold around me. I have to pry her fingers loose before pretty much dragging her, righting her so that she settles under me on her back, her arm wrapping around me again and holding me tight. And then she doesn’t say a word, instead stunning me by latching her little vampire-like mouth on my chest and sucking hard enough to break the skin and draw blood, leaving her bruising claim on me.
“Oh no.” She grins like a wicked woman, come-drunk on her endorphins and my alpha pheromones. “I think I might have just bitten you.”
Her unapologetic eyes flick up to me. “Do you expect me to argue for you not to bite me? Not going to happen, dove. Now shut your eyes and sleep. We’ve got a lot to discuss. And I have to apologise to Ares for going beasty on his mistress.”
She laughs, and it’s a beautiful, seductive noise. Not sweet and dandy but roughened and husky because of where my cock has been. And then she wiggles in deeper, like she’s trying to mould to my skin, and I do nothing to fight it, letting her in closer. I want to kiss her, I desperately want to put my lips to hers, but I don’t, because then neither of us will sleep and I will claim her like every part of me is screaming to do. Instead, I perfume like a lovesick boy, unashamedly too, and my little dove returns the proclamation by releasing her own perfume.
My fingers brush over her forehead, where her soft, lilac dyed hair sticks. Even when her breathing changes and she surrenders to sleep, I continue until my hand stops cupping her face and my lips finally get to feel her skin under them.
She talks under her dream infused breath at one point, more noise than words.
I answer back with a soft kiss on her shoulder, but she’s already away in deep sleep.
I wake a few times to check she’s okay, but each time, I find neither of us have moved an inch, and our mingling scent continues to saturate the room.
It must be late afternoon when the loss wakes me.
12
LENNON
It’s hard leaving Lincoln in bed, but routine and being a responsible pet owner drives me out of his arms after a few hours of sleep.
Ares and I use the first door we find as our escape, and I sit on the ground to put on my running shoes and drink a gallon of water. It must be late afternoon, not that I checked before I left but it’s unusually dark and the clouds that hang in the sky are deep grey, while the wind blows the trees past a breeze.
“Looks like the storm didn’t blow out, Ares.” I watch the wind whipping around us, idly scratching the top of Ares head. And if it wasn’t because of how long we were trapped in the car yesterday, I’d be back inside getting ready to snuggle under a fluffy blanket.
Figuring we still have at least a couple of hours before dark or before the storm picks up, we follow a well-worn path away from Lincoln’s home, seeing where it leads. The crashing waves in the distance are a bit of a giveaway of what lies out of view.
Ares trots off and has a good sniff around. He checks over his shoulder to make sure I’m following, but the reality is there’s no worries about our safety. When Lincoln said his house was secure, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one stunned into silence after he explained how the island works.
Most people say island and you have this preconceived idea involving palm trees and coconuts. You say private island and you add mansions, and socialites, complete with plastic tits, dancing away to some exclusive hot DJ they’ve flown in for a ten-minute set.
Lincoln’s island is completely different. When he bought his plot of land, he also signed an agreement that was full of non-disclosures, confidentiality agreements, and gag orders. But so did his neighbours. And while he didn’t say who exactly he shares the seventy thousand acres with, the level of security makes me think of past presidents, philanthropists, doctors, and humanitarian lawyers. Or drug lords. But either way, they all signed the same documents and have followed the same rules for years and years.
His home, while it’s big, is not like one of those houses you see on reality television. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nearly modest. Or I’m being a judgemental hoe-bag who should know better. Either way, seeing how Lincoln lives, combined with the way he eats pussy, I’m thinking of asking him to marry me.
Lincoln’s house features lots of open space, and the common theme of grey stone and timber outside, marble and cedar-stained timber again on the inside. I’ve got no idea on the architectural style, but it reminds me of the 70’s homes that were like rectangular boxes. But this is so much more stunning than that. The flat roof overhangs the actual building, providing a covered outdoor area on all sides, on the inside it translates to tall ceilings and space. All the finishes and fixtures have been considered, so while the house is not huge, it reeks of money.
The heated floor I was skating over earlier was something I wasn’t expecting, but by god I’ll be looking at getting it installed at home. Much like the marshmallow soft carpet in my bedroom, it’s so freaking lush I’d happily sleep on it. And the shower head he has will always be immortalised in my memory now. For me, those things in a home are pure indulgence and money well spent more than chandeliers and sweeping Blackwood staircases.
Outside, garden beds, grassy patches, rock features, and hidden nooks are everywhere. At first glance it looks like someone went with chaos planning, but everything makes sense to me. Walking paths shoot off in all directions, but not wiggly ones. They’re as straight as the roofline, but the destination is hidden, making everything a little mysterious or private, like it’s up to you to discover on your own. The pool though is impossible to hide. It’s definitely the largest pool I’ve seen at someone’s house, and I know now how Lincoln keeps his abs rock hard.
The size of his property ensures he can’t see any of his neighbours, or any of the other fifty people that live on the island, unless he chooses to. Which I really hope means he’s an advocate for skinny dipping because him and me in that pool with nothing on except each other is happening. Even imagining it, I can feel parts of me pull tightly into a tingle.
Ares and I choose the closest path, and I make a point of waving at one of the cameras installed in his garden on our way past. After a few minutes of easy walking, Ares picks up the pace. The two of us jog a wide lap that doesn’t seem to even go near the perimeter fencing, and then start on a second, stopping once I find a grassy zone to do some stretches, push ups, and sit ups. I’m not a fan of exercising, but I don’t hate it with a passion. I look at it as something that needs to be done more for Ares than me.
Checking his injured paw, I double check for tenderness after yesterday’s attack, but I have to have faith in the intelligence of my boy. If he wasn’t capable he wouldn’t have let me outside. It’s weird to put so much faith in an animal, but I do. When he plonks down fully on the grass, he dismisses me, leaving me to finish my workout with some yoga inspired moves that look so good when other people do them, but I look like a wobbly house of cards.
With my ass in the air, my breathing, and my mind in that weird Zen place, it’s Ares who alerts me to the arrival of the twins. I freeze, getting a little lost in how fit they both are, standing there with surfboards under their arms. Even upside down they look good. Dropping down I spin, and without them saying a word, I know Valak has the blue striped towel wrapped around his waist while Gabe wears his glasses and his board shorts that are still wet from his surf.
