Chapter Fifteen

Raleigh

“Is this okay?” Lincoln asks as he moves his thumbs across my lower stomach, just above my waistband.
“Yes," I moan, grinding against him as I seek more friction, the heat coiling in my core guiding my movement.
“Lincoln,” I gasp, as he presses me into my bedroom door, his hard cock rubbing against my spread thighs and putting pressure against my clit, giving me the added pressure that I had been seeking, and it feels so fucking good that I surprise myself by when the thought of, *Maybe the whole waiting for sex thing, isn't such a big deal,* crosses my mind. I quickly shoot the thought down though, because I know that it's entirely too soon, regardless of what we're currently doing or the things that we've already done before this.
“Fuck, baby girl,” He growls, pressing against me even harder, “hearing you moan my name…Goddamn, it’s so fucking hot!”
With his hands still holding me firmly against him, Lincoln pulls away from the door and takes one step back, and then another, and another, continuing the backward movement until he’s falling down on my bed, with me falling right along with him, landing on top of him, straddling him.
“Grind against me,” he demands, his voice low and husky. “Rub that pussy against my cock until you’re coming and screaming my name.
I lean down, causing him to groan out a curse as I grind myself against him, and capture his mouth in a deep kiss that has me picking up my pace, the friction building between my thighs.
“Fuck,” he growls once more as he moves his hands to palm my ass, pressing me down harder against his hard cock.
As we rock against one another, I begin trailing kisses from his mouth, across his strong jaw, and then nip gently at the area just below his ear. The action causes him to grind his cock against my clit hard, sensing a wave of pleasure ripping through me as he groans out another “fuck,” from between his clenched teeth.
“Lincoln,” I moan, pressing myself down against him as hard as I can, trying to desperately chase the orgasm that is just out of reach.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he says, moving one of his big hands until it’s under my shirt, his thumb and index finger playing with my hard nipple, “get yourself off on my cock.”
“Yes,” I moan, begging “please.”
He pulls my shirt over my head, his gaze immediately finding my naked breasts. He doesn’t hesitate as he lowers his face, flicking his tongue against the hardened peak while his fingers pay expert attention to the other.
“Oh, God,” I moan, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he closes his mouth over my nipple, humming his appreciation and pressing me closer against his erection with his other hand against my lower back. “Lincoln, I’m so close,” I tell him, desperate to find my release.
Desperate need unfurls from deep within me and without thinking twice, I reach down and find the button to his jeans, intent on releasing it. He must have other plans though because just as I get it unbuttoned, he flips our positions and suddenly, I’m on my back and he’s got my pants unbuttoned and he’s slipping his hand down the front of my jeans and panties, “So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls, enunciating each word as his fingers trail through my wetness, spreading it to my clit and demanding, “Come for me, baby girl,” while at the same time that he thrusts two fingers inside of my pussy, curling them and hitting somewhere deep inside of me.
Without warning my orgasm hits, morphing from a building wave to a tidal wave that is washing over me, leaving me desperate for it to never end.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I cry, rocking my pussy against his fingers and thumb that’s still working my clit.
“Fuck,” Lincoln growls, thrusting between my open thighs, the movement pushing his hand more firmly against my pussy, forcing his fingers even deeper.
I reach between our bodies, find his cock, and curl my fingers around him.
“No,” he says breathlessly as he shifts until I’m no longer holding him and his cock is firmly out of my reach.
Even with the pleasure that he’s bringing to my body, a pang of hurt goes through me that he doesn’t want me to bring him the same pleasure as he brings me.
But it’s a short-lived feeling because one look at his face tells me that it’s taking everything in him to not let me touch him.
“I want to,” I tell him and then moan as he curls his fingers hitting that same spot again. “P-please.”
“This is about you,” he says, his eyes a deep blue color that would have given away his desire, even if I hadn’t just been holding the evidence of said desire in my hand only moments ago.
Breaking eye contact, he lowers his lips to my hipbone and nips at the flesh there.
“Christ,” I moan, my hips leaving the bed and thrusting my pussy closer to his face.
“You’re dripping wet and smell so fucking good that I could eat you.” As if to prove his words are true, Lincoln uses his free hand to lower my jeans and panties until my pussy is on full display for him.
I have half a mind to shut my legs and put a stop to his efforts, but now that he’s mentioned it, I desperately want to feel his mouth on me.
*I'll get him back,* I decide as he looks at me as if there’s gold hidden inside of my vagina.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers and then buries his face between my thighs and pulls my clit into his mouth, not wasting a single second.
“Holy shit!” I cry out and silently curse myself for never doing this myself if this is how good it feels to have an orgasm. I bury my hands in his hair, my fingers grasping at the strands as he nips, licks, and sucks at my pussy, while working his fingers deep inside of me until I feel him coaxing yet another orgasm from within me.
“Oh shit, Lincoln!” I moan as another, even more intense, orgasm washes through me like a tsunami, leaving me weak and breathless.
After Lincoln pulls my panties and jeans back into place, he crawls up my body and looks down at me with a look that has my heart beating faster.
Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine gently. I can taste myself on his lip as he slowly coaxes my mouth open but I don’t stop or pull back, too lost in Lincoln and his kisses to care. He keeps the kiss light and easy as if he isn’t sporting a massive hard-on at the moment, as he trails one of his hands down my arm until he’s twining his fingers through mine.
He shifts, adjusting us so that he has me curled against him, our twined hands resting on his stomach, his erection still painfully obvious through the material of his jeans.
I sit there in his arms, my head lying on his chest as he plays with my fingers, unable to take my eyes off of his hard cock, which has to be incredibly uncomfortable, if not painful when he asks, “What are you thinking about?”
I debate on whether I should say anything or just leave it alone but this is the second time that I’ve tried to touch him and he’s turned me down and it’s really bothering me.
After several moments of silence, I finally blurt, “Why won’t you let me touch you?”
He turns me to look at him, his face pinched, his brows drawn, clearly confused.
Waving my hand in the direction of his crotch, I say, “Twice now, you’ve denied me when I’ve tried to touch you. Is it me? Do you not want me to try because you think I’m going to be bad at it?” I ask, angry but just as equally hurt as tears begin to pool in my eyes.
“Are you serious?” He asks, sitting up and pulling me up so that we’re looking at each other eye to eye.
Instead of answering, I lower my face to my lap, wringing my hands together nervously as a tear slips from my eye and trails down my cheek.
“Baby,” he says gently and when I don’t look at him, I feel his fingers on my cheek, turning me to look at him. “We just talked about this. I’m trying to do things differently with you. I told you that I won’t make you do anything that you don’t want to do.” My lower lip begins to wobble and another tear escapes as I try to understand how he can take me *wanting* to pleasure him as *making me do something that I don’t want to do*. “That includes getting me off just because I’m hard. I’ll be fine. No one has ever died from blue balls.”
I choke out a tearful laugh but shake my head back and forth because although his intentions are for the right reasons, denying me something that I *want* to do is just as hurtful.
“But Lincoln, you weren’t forcing me to do anything,” I tell him, wiping the moisture from my cheek when I realize that my tears probably aren’t helping my case.
I give him what I hope is a seductive smile and get up on my knees, before throwing one of my legs over both of his. I lower my hand to his cock and begin stroking him as I look him dead in the eye and say, “I *want* to make you feel good, too.”