“I’m not gonna last long, Lincoln,” I say, squeezing around him as he smacks me again.
“Let go, Sweetheart. Let go, and I’ll follow.”
One more spank and my body lets go. Between how deep he is inside of me, his hand on my ass, the other on my jaw, and the last twenty minutes of pleasure he’s brought me, there’s no more holding off. My orgasm wreaks havoc on my body, and somewhere outside, I hear the sound of a truck pulling up, followed by doors opening and closing. “Lincoln,” I warn, but he doesn’t let me stop.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop. Feel all of it, Abigail.”
So I do. I ride out my orgasm as he continues thrusting up into me.
“Fucking hell,” Lincoln says as he pumps harder and harder until he lets out a deep moan. “Holy… shit.” He stills inside of me just as the front door opens.
It takes Jasper all of one second to spot us and only another to wrap his brain around what he just walked in on. And when he does, adevioussmile takes over his face. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”
“Out, Jas,” Linc commands, burying his face in my chest.
Regardless of the fact that Jasper has seen me naked—and probably in this same position—many times before, something about being caught red-handed makes my cheeks flame.
“Was just coming in to let you guys know we were home before we let out the cattle, but it seems you didn’t miss us all that much.”
“Jasper…” Lincoln groans now.
Jas raises his hands in the air, all while trying not to laugh. “Alright. I’m goin’, I’m goin’. Just make sure ya’ll clean up after yourselves. See ya in a bit, Red.”
He shoots me a wink, and he’s out the door as fast as he came in.
Lincoln kisses the center of my chest while rubbing along my back. His green eyes look up at me, and I press a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.
“What does that mean? What you called me?”
I don’t know why I said it, honestly, the word just kind of slipped out. But it felt… fitting. It feltright. “It means, Darling.”
His gaze softens.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
“Lyubimyy.”
“I don’t know why it never occurred to me that you spoke Russian.”
I shrug. “I don’t much. Usually, when I’m mumbling to myself.”
He smiles widely up at me. “You should do it more often.”
I lean down and kiss him softly before resting my cheek against the top of his head, soaking up this moment with him. Filling myself with the love I feel radiating from him.
Instead of saying “okay,” I just say, “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
Chapter twenty-two
Lawson
first week of march
Ihatefundraisers.
I hate the suits.
And Ireallyhate going to Billings in March.
