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CHAPTER 16
Erika
Long after Lincoln fell asleep, I lay awake, my mind churning with the remnants of our earlier conversation. The storm outside seemed to echo the turmoil within me. I replayed the painful memories of my parents’ relationship—the harsh words, the endless arguments that had filled my childhood home.
It was a cacophony of anger and despair that still haunted me. Thank God for Morgan; her home had been my sanctuary during those chaotic nights. I was relieved when my parents finally divorced, though the subsequent custody battles only added to the strain.
Lincoln’s plea to forget those scars and build a future together weighed heavily on me. I wanted to believe in our happiness, but the fear of repeating past mistakes loomed large. When I looked into Lincoln’s ice-blue eyes, I saw nothing but love and sincerity. His devotion was clear, but the fear of potential heartache made me hesitate.
As I shifted, Lincoln murmured in his sleep but remained blissfully unaware. His hand, resting on my hip, shifted to my belly, a gesture of unconscious possessiveness. I knew that for us to succeed, I would need to adjust and bend, or risk everything unraveling. Eventually, sleep claimed me, but it wasn’t long before I awoke to sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains.
Lincoln was up, drawing back the white curtains, letting bright sunshine flood the room. I pulled the dark blue sheets over my head, shielding myself from the intrusive light. The bed dipped as Lincoln sat beside me, gently coaxing the sheets away.
“It’s too early,” I mumbled, my voice muffled by the fabric.
“It’s 8:30,” he replied, his tone light but firm.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” I groaned.
“Hmm, I guess I should’ve worn you out before bed,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful regret.
The night before had been a stark contrast to our usual fiery encounters. After our argument, Lincoln had been unusually tender, catering to my every need. He made me spaghetti for dinner, and we spent the evening cuddled on the overstuffed white couch, the glow of the ocean reflecting in our eyes. Despite the lights coming back on by 9, he made no move to make love. We simply watched television and drifted off in each other’s arms. Yet, despite his efforts, I remained restless.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Because you needed to be held rather than fucked,” he said, a hint of seriousness in his tone.
“Why, thank you,” I replied, shifting to a more playful tone. “I’m better now, and I think I need to be fucked.”
Lincoln raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “Oh?”
“You’re surprised?” I pushed the sheet off me, revealing my bare chest. His eyes immediately traced the curve of my breasts, lingering on my hardened nipples.
“You’re too hard to resist,” he said, his voice low and appreciative.
“I think you’re the hard one,” I retorted, a playful smirk tugging at my lips.
I pushed the sheet fully off and straddled Lincoln’s lap, pressing his erection between us. “You would be correct. What do you plan to do about it?”
“Watch,” I instructed, sliding off his lap and positioning myself on my knees in front of his spread thighs. I loved the power and control this position gave me, and I took pleasure in seeing him unravel.
Lincoln’s gaze was fixed on me as I cupped his balls gently, massaging them before wrapping my hand around his shaft. I took my time, savoring each movement as I licked the head of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum. I loved watching him break apart, the control I wielded over his pleasure making my heart race. Each drop that bubbled to the surface fueled my excitement, as I drew closer to bringing him to the edge.
"Suck me," Lincoln's voice was strained, laced with desperation.
“I’m not ready to do that yet,” I teased, my lips brushing lightly against the sensitive head of his cock.
“You’re a little vixen,” he groaned, a mixture of frustration and pleasure in his tone.
“And you love it,” I replied, feeling a thrill at the control I had over him.
I wrapped my other hand around his shaft, twisting it gently as if wringing out clothes, while my plump lips kissed and nibbled at the tip. Lincoln’s groan was deep and primal, and he fisted my hair, holding me close.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered urgently.
I had no intention of stopping. I was determined to savor every moment, to draw out his pleasure until he couldn’t take any more. Lincoln leaned back on the bed, his hands splayed out beside him. I took him deep, and his hips bucked involuntarily, fucking my mouth with a primal rhythm. My other hand continued to caress his balls, teasing their underside, drawing out moans of my name between his labored breaths.
“Shit, Erika, suck me harder!” he gasped, his voice breaking with intensity.
