Page 49 of Dancing With Lies

“Stop twitching, Roxie.” He muttered against her ear lobe, his fingers still dancing on her.

He let her hands go, but only long enough to push them behind her, before he pressed back into her to keep them trapped. Oh, he was catching on quickly, and she grinned a grin that was sexier than she knew.

The moment she got off she was going to drag him to the floor and ride that dick of his until they were both screaming in total surrender. If he’d let her. If he could maintain that control she needed him to hold onto. She wanted it from him, wanted him to be the alpha male, to dominate her until only he existed.

And fucking him would be the absolute pinnacle moment of her life, if the way he breathed against her ear told her anything. Most men loved sex, but Lincoln’s ragged breath told her he was vividly aware of what prolonging sex would end with. That he knew that waiting, demanding to pleasure his partner before he got off, would be incredible.

“Stop, Roxie.” He ordered, but she hadn’t done anything. Not yet.

“I haven’t done anything, Lincoln.” She broke her silence, at last, her hips grinding down onto his fingers, his palm.

“Oh, but you have. You’ve made me want you. You’ve made me need you. This. I can’t live without you making those sighs and pants. Without hearing you groan again.”

“Then make me make them, Lincoln.” She measured each word out, matching the pace of the fingers he pushed inside of her. Not to be seductive but because the pressure was building inside, the moment he wanted the most was coming.

She was so close, on the edge of the kind of release she hadn’t had in ten years. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to have his touch, to have his thick fingers inside of her.

“Do it, Roxie.” He demanded, as if she could get off on command. But she did, the world exploded as he whispered her name in his ear. He kissed the lobe before he nipped it between his teeth, holding her up as her legs gave out and her hands clenched together.

Pleasure surged through her, folded time and space into one single point, before it exploded around her, black stars of total bliss. Her walls clenched around his fingers, swallowing them, swallowing him until she thought he’d disappeared into her. But he was still there. She felt him when her back arched away from the wall and her hands splayed out against the cold tiles. She felt his lips on her neck, sucking at the spot that made her toes curl.

Relief flooded through her, tracing the paths pleasure took from that central point of her body and outward. To her head and down to her toes, her entire body came in time with his fingers, then relaxed. She was with Lincoln again and the world was right.

His fingers slowed as she slumped against the wall until they were still within her. His lips let go of the skin at her neck and Roxie blinked. His face, his lips, oh, at last, his lips were on hers.

That kiss claimed her in ways she wasn’t sure she wanted to be claimed, but she couldn’t back away now. Not when he’d finally given in to her most fervent desire. She opened for him, enjoyed his taste. The feel of his hot tongue on hers was heavenly, all that she’d wanted it to be. She drank in his kiss, hungry for more, for all of him. She’d take it all if he’d only let her.

She didn’t want the kiss to end but he pulled away, tugged her out of the shower.

“I want you inside of me, Lincoln.” She said when she could breathe again. Her arms came up to lace behind his neck as water dripped from their bodies onto a rug. “I need you.”

“Not yet, Roxie. Don’t.” His head came up, his wet hair smoothed back on his head. He was vulnerable right now, she could see that, but in control.

“I need it.” She begged, but he only smiled at her.

“In due time, princess.”

“Fuck. I hate you so much.” She muttered but she couldn’t look away from him.

“I know. You’ll thank me later, though.”

“Maybe.” She mumbled, unwilling to admit she knew he was right. Fast and quick served a purpose, but Lincoln Young didn’t want to distract her for a second, or a minute. He wanted to imprint himself on her until she could never think straight again.

That was dangerous, but she was a moth, enamored with the flame that was Lincoln. She couldn’t draw herself away, even if the light he brought into her life burned her. She’d avoided flames since the night of her parents’ deaths. His was the only flame she could bring herself to go near, and that told her more than she wanted to admit.

When she finally calmed down, he wrapped a towel around her body, one around his own, and took her hand. “Come with me, Roxie.”

She expected him to take her to his brand-new playroom, but he didn’t. He led her down the hall to his bedroom. With a twist of the knob the door opened and she found herself in the bedroom now as familiar as her own. A lamp cast soft light around one corner of the room, but he didn’t lead her there. He went to the bed instead and sat down. He pulled her in front of his body, between his knees.

With her lips parted, wondering, needing, what came next, Roxie waited until he told her what he wanted.

“Down.” He said, and she knelt in front of him, one of her hands on each of his knees. “Look at me.”

She brought her face up, to stop examining the flat plane of his stomach and the thick length of his cock. She found brown eyes that weren’t common at all, but unique in the expressiveness they displayed, the gold and amber flecks catching the soft light and reflecting it as more fire.

Her hand moved to reach for him, to wrap around his girth, just as his thumb came down to brush the plump softness of her bottom lip. “Open.”

She pulled her teeth apart and his thumb invaded her mouth. Her teeth closed around the tip for a moment, before she closed her lips to suck at the digit. His breath hissed in between his lips and she smiled a very dirty smile around his thumb. Her tongue lashed at his skin, mimicking what she could, would, do to him.