AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I stood, but Foster’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist tightly.
“Please let go,” I said firmly.
He didn’t release me. Instead, he yanked me closer and kissed me with a bruising intensity. For a brief, disorienting moment, I was that lost teenager again, letting him have his way. Foster’s kiss was a jarring mix of familiarity and forbidden desire. His soft lips and probing tongue left me breathless, and I couldn’t help but respond, letting him invade my mouth. When he finally pulled back, I was left dazed.
“Go home to your lover,” he taunted.
I wiped the smeared lip gloss from my lips with the back of my hand, glaring at him. “Fuck you, Foster.”
“That can be arranged,” he said, his tone casual.
“It can’t,” I shot back. “And it never will be again.”
“We’ll see,” he said with a smirk.
Hate and humiliation boiled inside me as I turned and fled. I shoved the door open so forcefully that I almost tumbled to the floor. Regaining my balance, I hurried back to my worried friends.
“What happened?” Morgan screeched as I approached.
“Nothing,” I dismissed. “I told him off.”
“Are you all right?” she asked, her concern evident.
“More than all right,” I said, forcing a smile. “I need a drink.”
Two hours after leaving the club, I stumbled into Lincoln’s dimly lit apartment, my body thrumming with the restless energy Foster’s kiss had ignited. The clock on the wall read just past 1:30 a.m. My mind was a blur of heated desire as I shed my clothes, the thought of a shower fleeting. Lincoln had always preferred me raw and untamed, a fact that made me shiver with anticipation.
I tiptoed toward his bedroom, where he lay sprawled on the bed, the sheet draped loosely around his waist. One arm was thrown above his head, the other resting casually at his side. The blue glow of his bedside clock cast a soft light on his chiseled features, highlighting the strength and serenity in his face.
Slipping between his spread legs, I took him in my mouth, savoring his familiar taste—masculine, intense, and intoxicating. I hollowed my cheeks, working him slowly until he began to respond, a groan escaping his lips as he stirred.
“Fuck, that feels good,” Lincoln murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “You’re home.”
I ignored the sting of his words. This wasn’t home, not yet, and Foster’s sudden reappearance had been a stark reminder of my missteps. I wasn’t about to repeat those mistakes.
“You taste good,” I murmured around him, my voice muffled.
“Stop for a minute and kiss me,” he said, reaching out with a hand.
A pang of guilt twisted in my chest. The last lips that had touched mine were Foster’s, and Lincoln didn’t deserve to be caught in that mess. Reluctantly, I pulled away and stood up from the bed.
“I should at least brush my teeth,” I said, trying to excuse myself.
“I don’t care,” Lincoln replied, his voice husky.
“I do,” I insisted, heading toward the bathroom.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I saw raccoon eyes and disheveled hair. The guilt clawed at me, making my breath catch. I scrubbed my teeth and swished minty mouthwash, determined to clean away the remnants of Foster’s taste before returning to bed.
When I came back, the bedside lamp was on, and Lincoln’s arousal was unmistakable. The sight made my mouth water.
“I want to ride you,” I said, my voice trembling with need.
“No,” Lincoln countered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I need to taste you first.”
“Are you kidding?” I asked, backing away from his outstretched hand.
“Why? I love your taste.”
