Much too soon, he pulls back, and we both pant for breath.
“Fuck!” he grunts.
What does that mean and why does he sound so annoyed? Whatever the reason, I don’t want this to end. Instinctively, I grind my hips against his, seeking a little relief from the deep throbbing ache between my thighs, finding it in the thick ridge of his length straining against his pants. Pleasure skitters up my spine.
Lincoln groans, a sound so feral and full of longing that it makes my legs tremble. He stares at me, dark eyes still raging full of fire.
“Please, sir,” I whisper.
His lips find mine once more and he kisses me again, less urgently this time, yet still possessive and dominating. I’m not sure anything in the world could ever feel better than this. Seeking that same sweet relief I found a few moments ago, I rock my hips against his.
A growl rumbles deep in his throat, and the sound sends shivers of ecstasy hurtling through me. He slides a hand down over my ass and then the outside of my thigh before slipping it beneath my dress. And now his warm rough hand is gliding over my skin. My heart rate spikes and my breath stutters in my throat.
I rub against him instinctively and his hand moves up my thigh.
I’m sure my heart rate just doubled.
Moaning softly, I flick my tongue against his as I grow more confident. His soft grunt tells me he likes it. He still has his hand beneath my dress, gently caressing my skin, but he’s not yet touching me where I yearn to be touched. When my thighs parta little of their own volition, I realize my brain has fully checked out of this situation and is letting my needy lady parts run the show. Lincoln responds by herding me back a few steps until my ass bumps against his desk. I shuffle backward, perching on the edge of it while he slides his hand between my thighs, pushing aside my, now very damp, panties. And I tell myself that this is okay to want this, because giving him pleasure is exactly what I was trained for. And he’s definitely enjoying this.
My body pulses with electric energy.
I cling to him, desperate for more of whatever he’s offering, wondering how it’s possible to feel this much desire and bliss, when he ups the ante, swirling the pad of his index finger over a particular spot that has euphoria spiking hot and fierce through my entire body.
“Oh!” I gasp, wrenching my lips from his as my full body trembles.
He keeps his other arm locked firmly around my waist, holding on to me, and smirks, before repeating the action. Then he runs his nose over my neck and growls. “Do you like that, angel?”
I nod, biting down on my lip so that I don’t moan out loud and reveal myself to be too needy and desperate, because men don’t like that. But is that my clitoris he’s toying with?
“Have you ever made yourself come, Imogen?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know how to, sir.”
His eyes narrow on my face, trying to assess whether that’s true.
“I never tried. They told me it was wrong.”
He arches an eyebrow, swirling his fingers over my hyper-sensitive flesh. “Does this feel wrong?”
“God, no!” I moan aloud now, no longer able to stop myself.
And far from not liking it, me being vocal seems to please him. He gives a soft satisfied growl. “There are so many ways your body can feel pleasure, Imogen. Would you like me to show you?”
I nod, my cheek brushing the fabric of his T-shirt over the hard muscle of his chest. “Yes, sir.”
He circles my entrance, and every single nerve ending in my body is screaming for him to relieve this deep bone-aching need he’s stoked in me. Even though I have no idea how I could know what it is I need him to do, instinct tells me that if he pushes that finger inside of me, it will make everything better.
“Has anything or anyone ever been inside you, angel?”
He inches the tip in the slightest fraction of an inch and I tremble. “N-no. Nothing. Not even a tampon.”
He closes his eyes and mutters a string of curses.
“Please, Lincoln,” I beg, ashamed of myself for allowing my body to have this much control over my mind. Although not my entire body, just this single part of me where he has his hands. Nothing in this entire world feels more necessary than what he’s about to do.
“Fuck, Imogen,” he groans, pained. But I’m sure it’s me who’s suffering here. He’s the one with all the power. He has all the control. It goes against everything I have been taught my whole life to let go this much, but I’m a trembling mess made up of nothing but desperate need and a desire so fierce that it’s searing through my flesh.
I grasp his shirt in my fist, pressing my forehead to his chest and clinging to him like he’s my only chance of survival. “Linc,” I pant out only half his name in a plea.
