Chapter Thirty-Three

Michaela

 

Ever get pulled awake by an orgasm? Most unsettling when you weren’t dreaming beforehand. At least not consciously.

Peacefully unaware, then hello.

My moans were loud without censorship.

Lincoln pushed the covers off his head, revealing he’d had his face between my legs. “There she is.”

My heart beat rapidly and I panted for breath. The alarm clock said the sun wasn’t up, yet. “Really?”

“I woke up hungry.”

“That’s what the kitchen is for.” I was groggy from sleep and endorphins.

“Really?” He pumped his fingers inside me, making me aware they’d been there the whole time, and I moaned through the sensitivity. “Why would I leave the bed when there’s a sweet snack right here?” He removed his fingers and sucked my juices off.

Staring into my eyes.

Heat flickered beneath my skin and not the post-orgasmic warmth.

“Still want to sleep?”

I shook my head.

“Thought so.” His grin was wicked as he crawled up my body. His cock teased my folds, already gloved. A kiss that brought me fully alert, then he pushed inside me.

I arched my back. Penetration before the orgasm waned was always almost too much, but once he started moving within me, I didn’t want him to stop.

He tugged on the hem of my shirt. “I need to see your beautiful tits.” He pushed it up to my armpits and I pulled it off the rest of the way. “I love how you fit in my hands.”

“Play all you want as long as your hips keep moving.” I thrust mine to punctuate the point. He moaned. I squeezed his cock.

“Okay, bossy.” He moved his hands to the mattress for leverage.

“You started this.”

We’d done lots of hot, steamy fucking, but Lincoln was in a playful mood and I learned you could laugh during sex outside of the nervous fumbling of a first time.

He still got us to the finish line, the orgasm rolling through me in a wave of lasting pleasure versus a sudden explosion. I stroked his silky hair as he caught his breath.

“Glad I woke you up now?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled, then eased out of me and dealt with the condom in the bathroom.

I needed to pee, but I didn’t want to move, yet. My legs were pleasantly Jell-O.

The faucet ran, then he reappeared. Even mostly in the dark, he was beautiful, all highlights and shadows. “Enjoying the view, Miss Simon?”

“Yes.” Why deny it now?

He moved quickly back into bed and pulled me close. “House gets cold at night.”

I propped my chin on my hands on his pec. “Too bad we packed Harry’s pajamas.”

“Ha.” He pinched my butt. “I’d have to be freezing in the Arctic for that to happen.”

Even old-man PJs would be sexy on him, though. Leave the shirt open…

Shifting my hands, I laid my head on his chest. Stroked my fingers through the fine stubble on his breastbone. “Do you shave this?”

“They Nair-d me for a photo shoot. Just starting to grow back.”

My hand continued onto his abs, tracing the ridges.

“Not a Sasquatch or anything, though,” he continued.

“And down there?” Below the sheet.

“Buzz it, yeah.”

“Ever had a beard?”

“Nope. Stubble is too itchy.”

My fingers reached his natural waist and the skin twitched underneath. So I wasn’t the only one with ticklish spots. Filed that info away for safekeeping.

His arm around my back stroked down my ribs. “Should I ask about your grooming routine?” His leg hair was soft under my foot.

I tilted my eyes up. “Is that something women really divulge?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know. But I think it’d be hot to help you shave your legs.”

“Not much to do. It’s fine and blonde.” I got curses from Mo when we were shifting into puberty because she needed to start shaving before I did and she’s a natural blonde.

“Ah, genetic throwback.”

“Something.” We were all a sum of our ancestors. “Do you care how smooth a woman is?”

“Honestly, no. Well—within reason. Hairy armpits are not attractive to me, for example. But I’m not a guy who’ll hold you to impossible standards. If my girlfriend went backpacking for a month in the middle of nowhere, I wouldn’t expect to pick her up at the trailhead looking groomed like a supermodel. Likewise if she’s terribly ill. And vice-versa. If I’m in a coma for two weeks, I’m going to wake up scruffy.”

“Unless some nurse takes pity on your pretty face.”

His white teeth shone in the faint light. “Yes. That.” His hand continued casually sweeping down and up my back, soothing me into a mellow state. “But if your question is whether I’ll hold your body to any standards, the answer is no. I want you any way you come.”

“Pun intended?”

He chuckled. “Always.” Then tilted my jaw toward his face and kissed me. “I could chat with you all night, but we should probably get some sleep.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to say.”

I smiled and pushed up on my arm. “That would’ve been letting me sleep in the first place.”

“Oops.”

And since I was awake, I straddled his body and kissed him back.

 

****

 

A sunny morning greeted the first day of the new year.

I woke on my back, Lincoln asleep on his side, facing me. A stretch to my toes, then out of bed to use the bathroom, moving quickly once the cold air registered on my skin. Hurried through my business, then hopped into clean panties and my pajamas. It was a bit early for breakfast still and I’d probably wake him leaving.

And he looked so peaceful, breathing slow and even.

How had this man come into my life? December was so surreal. Rockstars and inheritances and amazing sex didn’t happen to people like me.

Except there probably wasn’t another individual like me.

Are you better with him or without him?

Mo’s words rang in my head, taunting and teasing things I never hoped for or sought after Jonny’s death. Things I didn’t think I deserved.

Give yourself a fresh start.

I didn’t know how he’d fit into my life back home—would it be easier or more difficult after I received Harry’s money? And no telling how long he’d be around before this job or another took him out of town for months.

Or permanently.

Let him be wonderful.

That was maybe the easiest part of this week. Whether in platonic moments or X-rated, he’d been nothing but sweet and thoughtful and amazing, behaviors that made it super hard for me to stick to my declaration of no relationships and never again.

Waking up to this sight wasn’t a hardship, either.

In the relaxation of sleep, Lincoln was less bad-boy and more angel on Earth, his features softer. Less devastating. Longer hair on top had flopped over his forehead and supermodels would kill for his lashes, but it was his slightly-parted full lips that were the most cherubic quality. They always had natural rosiness.

He got his eye color from his mother, so I wondered if the rest was from his dad. If so, Professor Adams would be very distracting for his female students—and some of the boys.

I carefully slipped back into bed, but his breath hitched. I held mine.

His eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” he croaked.

“Go back to sleep. It’s early.”

“Mm.” His eyes closed, but he reached toward me under the sheet. “Hey. Clothes.”

“It was cold.”

“Come here,” he mumbled, and hauled me close. Clumsily, so the end position was less than comfortable. I rolled in his octopus grip so we’d spoon and felt him nuzzle my hair.

If he was this cuddly in summer, he’d roast the poor girl in his bed. Poof, wake up next to ashes. Or a puddle. Like when the Wicked Witch melted in The Wizard of Oz.

And morning wood—not merely a saying. I squirmed to get my butt farther from his erection. A stick up my ass would not help me fall back asleep.

“If you keep wiggling, it’s definitely not going away,” he muttered behind me.

I froze.

“I feel your stomach gurgling.” His hand went from my belly to burrowing under my shirt to cup my breast—a position that repeated when we were like this. “Mm. I need a copy of this for home.”

“My boob?”

“Warm. Soft. Perfect fit in my hand. Yeah.”

“You definitely need more sleep. You’re not making sense.”

“You have a teddy bear. Can’t I have something, too?”

“Sure. Stuffed animals are available everywhere.”

He fondled me. “You know what I mean.”

“There’s no replicant.” Crazy man.

He snuggled even closer. “Then I’ll have to keep the real thing.” I didn’t think he was actually awake, but he kissed the back of my neck. “How ‘bout it? Give me access all winter and I’ll keep your boobs warm and happy.” Pressing me onto my back, he settled over me, and stuck both hands under my t-shirt. “I promise to never neglect them.”

His large hands engulfed and massaged my breasts easily and his touch didn’t fail to stir my blood. While I didn’t have much experience, Mo had complained about making out with guys that didn’t understand parts of women needed a more delicate touch. Nobody wanted heavy petting to feel like a mammogram—unless they were into that sort of pain. But I hadn’t had to direct the strength of his hands once since that first night.

It made me wonder.

“What’s your number?”

He glanced up from kissing my breastbone, having just shoved my shirt up to my collarbone. “Huh?”

“You know. The number of women you’ve been with.”

“Oh.” His eyes cast to the side before returning to center. “Like this, or everything.”

“Both?”

“Um…I lost my virginity freshman year of college. Before that, I was willing but there wasn’t opportunity. Between school and the band, I didn’t have much time for relationships and no high-school girl I went on a date with wanted to hook up fast. I’ve always had interest, but took my cues from the women I got involved with. It wasn’t until I reached L.A. that I was with someone that wasn’t a girlfriend.”

“So…”

“Michaela, does it matter?”

“Other than health, no. Probably not. I’m curious.”

He sighed. “I don’t actively keep track. I’m not scratching notches in belts or bedposts.”

I stroked one side of his hair and his face softened. “I’m not judging, Lincoln. Hell, I’m benefitting from the experience. But your…expertise makes me curious how you got it. Is that awful?”

He kissed my skin nearest his chin. “No. Sorry. I guess it’s awkward to tackle first thing in the morning. To be clear, there are no incidents where I was too drunk to remember a chick or whatever. I never partied that hard. Know why I can’t spit out a number?” I shook my head. “Because it doesn’t matter who I was attracted to for a moment. I remember the first time, obviously, and I’ll always remember you.” That was close to attaching feelings to this. “It’s absolutely less than twenty. A lot less. I’ll have to recall specifics to give you more details.”

“Okay.”

Then the typical warmth was back in his eyes. “Have I made you feel insecure about—?”

“Never. I said what I meant. My question isn’t about a life contrast or anything like that.”

“Good. Because you’ve matched me in a way no one has before.”

“Maybe because I’m not anything other than me.”

He smiled. “And I appreciate your frankness. You’re incredibly real.”

I shrugged. “I try.”

Who knew being up front about never doing relationships again would be a benefit? But he was just crazy enough to find my resistance endearing.

His hands resumed moving on my breasts again. Breathing deeply, I pressed them into his palms. He positioned my erect nipples between his fingers as he massaged me, almost pinching them. Almost twisting. My breath hitched at the sudden jolt of sensation that traveled straight to my core. A smirk of pride on his face, he moved one hand to make room for his lips to suck on my nipple. I moaned and grew wet.

He switched to the other nipple. I grabbed the back of his head, keeping his mouth on me. Twisting flicks of the other side made me squirm with need.

“Foreplay or shower?” he asked, pupils nearly swallowing the green.

“I’m a dirty girl.”

The answering grin was downright wolfish. He hopped off the bed, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the bathroom. By the stall, a devouring kiss before he reached for the knobs. He was steel between us. I peeled my shirt over my head, then pulled the tie off my braid.

“Shit, condom,” he muttered, and went for his pants. How many did he bring?

I dropped my bottom layers and cast my clothes toward the bed. Tested the water. A little cool, still, but okay to step into. Leaving the glass door open, I dipped my head under the spray and used the warm stream to loosen the tangles in my hair. Curly hair was stronger wet than dry. The heat felt good. I closed my eyes.

“Fuck.” Not a curse of misfortune, but raw—

I looked at Lincoln. He’d paused at the threshold of the stall to gawk at me.

“Never seen a wet naked girl before?” I teased.

He hauled me to him with emphasis that surprised me. “Never seen a fucking water goddess before. A nymph. A siren. A wet-fucking-dream I didn’t have enough imagination to conjure.” He pulled the door shut, then kissed me with all-consuming control.

This was the mouth of an alpha predator about to eat me.

I normally wouldn’t welcome such man-handling, but his intense desire was intoxicating. Who knew showers were his kink? Now I kinda regretted bailing on that first morning.

He tested my sex, then broke from me to grab the condom packet he placed on the shelf without my notice, ripped into it with his teeth, then rolled it on his impressive erection.

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg for mercy.”

Yes, please. We moaned in unison at joining, then he pressed my back against the opposite wall and showed me what his statement meant.