other years you’ve gone you’ve had a knock-out on your arm, and tonight, well…I just don’t deserve…”
Lincoln walks over to me and puts his fingers on my lips. “Let me dress you,” he says.
“But,” I try to start again.
This time Lincoln’s lips are on mine before I can protest any more. He keeps them there as he grabs my neon green bra from the bed. I feel his hands snake up my back as he maneuvers the bra on me. He does all of this without taking his lips from mine or touching my breasts. I don’t even flinch once while he does it, and am secretly disappointed when I don’t feel his hands exploring.
“Now, no more words. Didn’t anyone ever teach you if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”
“Lincoln…”
“I said to be quiet.”
“I pizza you hard, and that’s why I’m freaking the fuck out,” I blurt before he can do anything.
He smiles, places his lips back on mine, and continues to dress me. Lincoln knows if he responds, I’ll run. He slips my tank top over my head and bends over to pick up two items from the floor. When he stands back up, I push him down onto the bed and crawl on top of him, straddling his middle.
Smiling at my actions, I respond, “Thank you.”
Lincoln picked the same outfit I was going to – a simple lace shirt with black denim shorts.
“I’m dying to see these shorts on you,” he admits.
“Well, I’m dying to feel your hands on my breasts. They were so close.”
I grab both his hands and guide them up to where I want them. When his fingers hit the flesh exposed above my bra, I’m shocked by my actions and even more stunned by how good his touch feels. Lincoln closes his eyes as he sinks his hands down into the bra. I let out a cry of pleasure, then his cell phone goes off. It’s not just any ring, but his coach’s ring. Lincoln looks as if someone just ran over his puppy on Christmas morning.
“Answer it,” I say.
As he talks to his coach, I stay on top of him, pulling on my shirt and snatching my necklace from the nightstand. Lincoln waves goodbye to my boobies as I cover them up, and I can’t help but laugh.
I try to roll off him so I can put my shorts on, but instead he flips me over, covering the length of my body, with his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. He gently shakes his head, and then goes for the little black shorts that fell on the floor.
Hanging up the phone, he comes back up to face me with a quick peck on the lips, then the chin, then the center of my chest. He continues kissing down my body, and when he hits my belly button I squirm a little, but he doesn’t stop. His chin hits my core, and I begin to panic. Ugly memories resurface, a forgotten face races right back into memory, and I panic a little more. Squirming to get free and trying like hell to steady my feet on something solid to run.
“Oakley, look down here. It’s me, Lincoln. No one else owns this memory or night. Please look at me.”
I prop myself up and look into Lincoln’s eyes. His scent overwhelms my senses, and my feet ease up and relax a bit.
“Watch me. I just wanted to kiss from your lips down to your toes. Tell me to stop if you want me to, but don’t run.”
I watch as Lincoln places another kiss right below my belly button, and then another, and then one more at the juncture of my thighs. Even with a panty barrier, I feel every sensation. Nothing dirty or wrong, just Lincoln consuming every inch of my body. Then I giggle when he hits the inside of my thigh. Apparently, I’m very ticklish there.
“Thank you,” he says few moments later, kissing the tip of my big toe.
We both laugh as Lincoln tries to shimmy my shorts up my legs while I’m lying down. He finally pulls me up and buttons them.
“Fuck,” he growls. “We may need to stay here tonight.”
“Stop.” Weeks ago that comment would’ve sent me in a tailspin, but now I know it’s simply a comment. “Now, pick the shoes.”
I
Lincoln walks over to me and puts his fingers on my lips. “Let me dress you,” he says.
“But,” I try to start again.
This time Lincoln’s lips are on mine before I can protest any more. He keeps them there as he grabs my neon green bra from the bed. I feel his hands snake up my back as he maneuvers the bra on me. He does all of this without taking his lips from mine or touching my breasts. I don’t even flinch once while he does it, and am secretly disappointed when I don’t feel his hands exploring.
“Now, no more words. Didn’t anyone ever teach you if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”
“Lincoln…”
“I said to be quiet.”
“I pizza you hard, and that’s why I’m freaking the fuck out,” I blurt before he can do anything.
He smiles, places his lips back on mine, and continues to dress me. Lincoln knows if he responds, I’ll run. He slips my tank top over my head and bends over to pick up two items from the floor. When he stands back up, I push him down onto the bed and crawl on top of him, straddling his middle.
Smiling at my actions, I respond, “Thank you.”
Lincoln picked the same outfit I was going to – a simple lace shirt with black denim shorts.
“I’m dying to see these shorts on you,” he admits.
“Well, I’m dying to feel your hands on my breasts. They were so close.”
I grab both his hands and guide them up to where I want them. When his fingers hit the flesh exposed above my bra, I’m shocked by my actions and even more stunned by how good his touch feels. Lincoln closes his eyes as he sinks his hands down into the bra. I let out a cry of pleasure, then his cell phone goes off. It’s not just any ring, but his coach’s ring. Lincoln looks as if someone just ran over his puppy on Christmas morning.
“Answer it,” I say.
As he talks to his coach, I stay on top of him, pulling on my shirt and snatching my necklace from the nightstand. Lincoln waves goodbye to my boobies as I cover them up, and I can’t help but laugh.
I try to roll off him so I can put my shorts on, but instead he flips me over, covering the length of my body, with his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. He gently shakes his head, and then goes for the little black shorts that fell on the floor.
Hanging up the phone, he comes back up to face me with a quick peck on the lips, then the chin, then the center of my chest. He continues kissing down my body, and when he hits my belly button I squirm a little, but he doesn’t stop. His chin hits my core, and I begin to panic. Ugly memories resurface, a forgotten face races right back into memory, and I panic a little more. Squirming to get free and trying like hell to steady my feet on something solid to run.
“Oakley, look down here. It’s me, Lincoln. No one else owns this memory or night. Please look at me.”
I prop myself up and look into Lincoln’s eyes. His scent overwhelms my senses, and my feet ease up and relax a bit.
“Watch me. I just wanted to kiss from your lips down to your toes. Tell me to stop if you want me to, but don’t run.”
I watch as Lincoln places another kiss right below my belly button, and then another, and then one more at the juncture of my thighs. Even with a panty barrier, I feel every sensation. Nothing dirty or wrong, just Lincoln consuming every inch of my body. Then I giggle when he hits the inside of my thigh. Apparently, I’m very ticklish there.
“Thank you,” he says few moments later, kissing the tip of my big toe.
We both laugh as Lincoln tries to shimmy my shorts up my legs while I’m lying down. He finally pulls me up and buttons them.
“Fuck,” he growls. “We may need to stay here tonight.”
“Stop.” Weeks ago that comment would’ve sent me in a tailspin, but now I know it’s simply a comment. “Now, pick the shoes.”
I
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