“You look like you want to see more.”

“Fuck, Blue. I want to see it all. Want to feel you. Touch you. Fill you up until you don’t remember what it’s like not to be full of my cock.”

His dirty words unleash another rush of moisture between my legs.

“I’m so wet.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as he gives himself another tug. A bead of pre-cum rolls off the head of his cock, and my tongue swipes along my lips.

I want to taste.

Lincoln’s eyes snap open when I realize I said the words out loud instead of in my head.

“I want to give you everything you want, Blue. Just say the word.”

I push another finger inside myself, but even that’s not enough to fill me the way he will. I strum my clit harder and faster, and my orgasm builds.

“I want you to watch me make myself come while you stroke yourself.”

His rough breathing is the only response he gives other than a nod.

I focus on his hand and the flex of his muscles as he works his cock, and I strum my clit. “I’m close. So close.”

“Come for me. Come for me, and then tell me you want me to fill you up.”

His order sends me over the edge, and I moan his name as the orgasm crashes down on me. “Hurry!”

He’s off the sofa and beside me on the bed in seconds. “Trying to kill me. So goddamn beautiful when you come.”

He shoves my panties aside, baring my fingers, which are still busy.

“I need you. Now.”

The buzz of the orgasm fades away, and I want it back. I want exactly what Lincoln promised me.

“You’ve got me, Blue,” he says as he comes over me, fitting the head of his cock against my entrance. “Always.”

He drives home with a single thrust, and it’s everything I need.

Thirty-Two

Whitney

Light spills through the windows, dragging me out of sleep. I blink a couple of times and remember where I am. The Gables. My suite. Except everything is in the opposite place it should be.

Because it’s not my suite. It’s Lincoln’s.

I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. Where is he?

I scoot over to the side of the bed and my hand crushes a piece of paper. A note.

I’m sorry you’re waking up alone. I don’t want to leave, but I have a meeting I can’t miss. You’re welcome to stay in the suite as long as you want, but I’m having something delivered to yours. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

— L

I read it again. He’s having something delivered?

I wrap the sheet around my body and tiptoe out into the living room. I have no idea why I’m tiptoeing, but it feels like the right thing to do. The connecting door between our rooms is still wide open, and the events of last night come rolling back in vivid color.