Devil In Her Bed Read online

  I cannot find my voice. He doesn’t require my consent. He knew he had me before my cognition could catch on.

  This time, Lincoln tugs his tie all the way off. It flies over his shoulder. The powerful man descends to his knees. There’s no false domination here. The sheer act of him in a position of worshipping me doesn’t drive my confidence. No, there’s not an ounce of control to be had here. My entire body is hot, achy, aflame and I no longer have the ability to speak.

  Lincoln is eye level with the junction at my hips. His hands slam down on my thighs, long fingers kneading roughly at my skin, barbaric in the way that they force my legs to open wider. Beneath my shorts is a pair of silk panties which I pray will be tossed in the same way as his tie.

  Goose bumps prickle my arms, and my entire being is shouting for him to ravish me. Yet the heavy tongue in my mouth can't move to utter or plead.

  Lincoln presses his thumb against the outline of my slit. “Oh God, you smell like the sweetest brown sugar. I'm gonna fucking devour you.”

  His fingers scorch my skin as he hooks them beneath the waistband of my shorts and panties. Off they go. I give a jubilant squeal and jut my hips out, pussy wide open for his preview, beckoning his penetration.

  “Fuck me, I bloody well knew something beautiful was hiding between those curvaceous brown legs, but this pussy is gorgeous,” he says, the warmth of his mouth teasing my second set of lips. He gives a hearty laugh as my labia quivers and contracts, sending along with it more of a river.

  Lincoln’s tongue flickers out, gliding across my wet sex. Then it dives inside, twirls around.

  Moaning, my fingers coil into the black, slick tresses of his hair.

  His lips.

  These damn lips I underestimated, French kissed me down below. Lincoln’s nose nudges against my clit as he continues to work a rhythm. He makes these sounds, comparable to sopping up syrup on warm, buttery biscuits until I begin to cake all over his face.

  Two fingers are slipped into my aching core. His other hand reaches up and squeezes my nipples, with enough strength to make them sore, to make me ride his fingers to offset the pain.

  He removes his fingers.

  I whimper, tears licking down my cheeks at how good he feels.

  “Shhh…” Lincoln licks my other lips again. His mouth is cool against my pussy. His tongue smooths over this lonely ache. His tongue tasting deep inside of me, now I start to whimper a bit, riding his face. A traction sends a tailspin of emotions shocking through my body. My ass rides against the ledge of the cool countertop and his mouth.

  “I’m coming…” I shout. I orgasm hard against his mouth, arching my hips so that I can get all of my pussy into Lincoln’s mouth.

  Trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, the orgasm rides through me. Lincoln’s laughter is boisterous as my athletic thighs shake.

  He reaches out to taste me once more. The walls of my pussy are convulsing, quaking and shaking. I slap his hand way. Sensory overload. There’s a smug smile on his face, as if my spasmodic reaction was just what he had in store.

  “Oh…” My body is shooting sensational fireworks like never before. I lean my head back against the cupboard, eyes closed, and catch my breath. This was just a taste, a first hit, and I’m so fucking addicted it hurts.

  In a nanosecond, Lincoln has scooped me into his arms. His tone is impatient and delicious. “All right, Siobhan, you're all fucking wet for me. Good girl. Let’s get started.”

  ***

  Lincoln has a bulge between his legs that has left me panting. He stands at the edge of my bed, in boxer briefs that make my mouth water with need. His chest is completely rippled, and though I’ve seen him without a shirt before, I am lost in a trance. During all of our runs, he has never watched me watch him. And as I lie against the feathery pillows at the headboard of my bed, I crave his cock like I’ve never had a craving before.

  His eyes lock onto mine as his hand slips into the top of his boxers. He handles his dick like a real beast, and I have yet to lay eyes on it.

  “Wot do you want to do to me, beautiful?”

  “I want to suck your cock until you come all over me.” The words echo in my ears. Speaking them came sooner than my thought process. Crap, did that sound contrived?

  He nods. “Lovely, I want to gloss that gorgeous mouth of yours. Come ’ere.”

  To my knees, I descend. Crawling over, not contemplating seduction. But animalistic drive takes over. I stop at the edge. He takes my hand, and I rise to my knees before him.

  I kiss his neck, tongue grazing along his bare chest. Lincoln turns us slowly around, and he now lies back on the bed, with me straddling him. The wetness of my pussy glides against his waist as my teeth graze softly over his nipple. I scoot myself down. The heat from his cock rises through the thin barrier of his undies. I moan in delight, ready to feast my eyes on it.

  Lincoln’s fingers twirl through my hair as my lips work their way lower. He pulls ever so softly, and the faint sound of his moaning makes my confidence soar.

  Finally, I work my way down to the package. Lincoln once again pushes his hand into his boxer briefs. Liquid lust pools into my mouth as anticipation has me imagining what delight lies ahead of me.

  He grips his other thumb against the side of his underwear and tugs them off.

  I let out a harsh gasp. He is larger than expected. Much larger.

  The crown of his ivory dick is magnificent. He has a very smooth shaft, which extends in thickness and length seemingly to eternity. And the smell of it. I want to nudge my nose against the satin of his cock, rub along it and breathe in the intoxicating fragrance.

  I handle his hardness firmly, middle finger unable to touch my thumb. Gently, I begin to stroke him. Head lowering, I twirl my tongue against the pinnacle of his member. Another moan ripples through my throat at how smooth he is.

  I strategize on how well I must suck his cock. Lincoln Zager will remember that no other woman before or after me will ever be able to suck his cock so well. Strategizing, my hand becomes a sleeve against the base of his shaft. My throat relaxes. I work my mouth up and down. Each time my throat widens, stretching to take in more of him, alternating with quick flicks of my tongue against the smoothness of his manhood. Once more, my throat distends as I take as much of him inside of me as possible.

  Lincoln’s groans become an intense growl. I salivate more. And then I stop concentrating so much on how to suck his dick like a professional. Pure unadulterated hunger compels me to taste him.

  This thick, heavy cock so powerful in my hand. His body tenses. I press his dick so far down my throat, ready to taste his creamy, hot spunk.

  “Fuckkkkk,” Lincoln grunts.

  The final sensation is complete. Like a volcanic eruption, cum squirts down my throat and coats my mouth. I savor the taste of him, delicious and comparable to no other. I swallow it down to the last drop.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Siobhan

  There are gold wrappers peppering the plush pile carpet on the floor. Lincoln and I have already used almost a half box of condoms. Around and across, my finger traces the sign of a figure eight into Lincoln’s left pectoral. I lie on my side, my body wedged between a feather duvet and the solid rock of his frame. Thick, long lashes whisper against his chiseled cheeks. Even in sleep, Lincoln’s sexy mouth is tensed in deep contemplation. How had those needy lips devoted such tender care to my body?

  “Damn,” Lincoln mumbles. His groggy voice holds undertones of soothing that I thought he was incapable of due to his altered vocal cords. “I fell asleep. How brilliant.”

  “Yes, you finally fell asleep. I did too. Not sure if today is tomorrow or the day after that even.” I grin, climbing around to straddle him.

  “It’s probably the day after tomorrow. I was knackered on the way over here, but this beautiful body of yours had to be discovered.”

  “Knackered?” I ask.

  “The blokes at Fort Bragg were training with new Zager tactical
defense weapons. Let’s just say they were horsing around like rugrats at Christmas time.” He reaches a hand up, grabbing onto my right breast as if he owns it. Then Lincoln pushes his way into a seated position, with my legs straddled about his waist. His mouth lowers onto my right nipple, and I moan. A warmth and then a coolness blows against the hardened bud, sending my desire in a tailspin right down to my pussy.

  “So it must’ve been easy to persuade your friends to drop you off, playing the role of GI-Santa Claus. What kind of crazy story did you tell them?”

  He smiles. “Not friends…”

  “Ah, associates,” I correct, recalling Bernard’s words. “This one owed you a favor too?”

  As our hands intertwine, I notice the lightness of his British skin against my own. Even more, his hands are not soft and manicured in a manner of an influential businessman. So, I’ve gathered that instead of just owning one of the largest arms manufacturers, Lincoln also steers the ship. There are a few nicks and grooves across his broad, protruding knuckles. These scars couldn’t have been caused by a preteen defending himself against an asshole of a father. At least I hope Lincoln’s father had a limit to the way he treated him.

  “What’s the story here, Mr. Zager?” My words graze across the taut muscles of Lincoln’s chest as I rub the furrowed skin against his knuckles.

  Orbs of onyx glare through my eyes, and Lincoln says, “I don’t place my faith in firearms no matter how much money I’ve made in warfare. Speaking of a beating,” changing subjects. Lincoln plants his hand over mine, guiding it to his erection. He has damn near broken my pussy.

  “Mmmm, we’re gonna break something else,” I murmur.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t give two shits if we tear this house down. I promise to buy you a new one.” He extends his leg across mine, completing some sort of stripper act that forces him on top of me. A spunky grin rolls through my body so naturally that I silently thank my lucky stars for this bit of sin.

  His left hand grips my headboard, his right grabs my hip. I go sliding down further under his strength. My mouth waters as the crown of his thick cock probes at my entrance. Then Lincoln plunges into my soaking pussy.

  “You stay wet for me,” he growls into my ear. “But I need you wetter.”

  Lincoln pulls out of me and dives back in, his dick hitting so deep I buck.

  “Beautiful, I still haven’t given you all of me.” His voice pets my ear.

  Lincoln reaches down to kiss the shock off my face. My valley is full with him, yet to realize he’s holding back. Feeling the muscles of his thighs against my hips, I beg, “Deeper, Lincoln, fuck me deeper….”

  The headboard bangs against the wall, as he rides me. He palms my breast and squeezes my nipple with his thumb and index finger. A river rains down on his dick as he continues to thrust inside of me.

  “Lincoln…” I pant.

  His cock grows in my sweet, wet valley. The head swells, and I know he’s about to pump his cum deep into my pussy. I come just as he does. His hot cum hits against my walls.

  Lincoln’s muscular frame crashes into me. Though he’s heavy weight, I want to hold him here on top of me. But in his thoughtfulness, Lincoln kisses my forehead and rolls over to his side.

  ***

  We still have made no move to leave the bed. This has become our sanctuary, our love cave. We only leave for quick pit stops in the kitchen or shower, just to go at it again. And we have had the most wonderful discussions about art. Although Lincoln has equated much of the famous artwork in his room as an investment, he does seem to have a fond interest in some of it. I have noticed, on his part, that the deeper I try to go into his life, the quicker he steers me back to the here and now… or me.

  So, I ask him to tell me how it feels to be in the army.

  “I’ve never served for my queen or otherwise,” Lincoln says. “What made you think that?”

  “The way you handled the demon dog. Your company,” I pause, ponder, and then spout off a list. “How sharply you talk to people on the phone… Crap, the first time you answered the phone in my presence. It was a few days after one of our runs, I expected someone to say ‘Yes, Drill Sergeant,’ or however one replies to an army commander.” I shrug, not versed on army lingo besides Forrest Gump and an army comedy by one of the Wayans’ brothers from ages ago. “The scars on your fists don't appear to be so old…” I stop myself from adding that the scars don't appear to have come from childhood. Unless he still gets into physical sparring matches with his father.

  He bites his bottom lip in thought, and in my attraction to him, my entire body begins to spark with need. I don't know much about Lincoln, aside from the business aspect. Is he hiding things from me?

  I run away from situations, maybe he steers around them too.

  And then Lincoln chuckles. “Oh, the phone call? You thought it was some sort of rich wankers’ fight club? As I recollect, you’d complemented the vegan sandwiches I ordered. I took a call from a potential comic book trader.”

  “A comic book trader?” My eyebrow arches.

  “When I was a rugrat, I had a wealth of books forced upon me. Textbooks so bloody fucking thick,” he holds up his index finger and thumb in measurement, “I had to sneak something interesting in those books or die of boredom.”

  “Oh.” I turn to my side, fully engaged with having more of him.

  “My grandfather had a stern belief in intelligence equating to all power. He was more interested in the philosophy of war with regard to business than anything. Sun Tzu. Napoleon. Augustine. I memorized philosophy, actually read and loved physics, and uh… I had a volume of encyclopedias and other tosh to keep my mind vigorous and at work.”

  “Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily,” I quote Napoleon, the same quote Lincoln growled into my ear while we sprinted. “I guess that can be added to the laundry list of why I thought you served in the army. Very aggressive.”

  “You knew where that quote came from?”

  “Hell no. You were running my body to the ground, I proudly Googled it later.”

  He grins.

  “So you hid your comic books from your grandfather, but low and behold I believe you're much like him. Most men don't mind winning, hell, some will put it in a woman's face. You encourage my best.”

  “I prefer a willing opponent.”

  “Now back to these comic books,” I begin.

  “Bloody hell, I take it that the truth isn’t nearly as intriguing as what that beautiful brain of yours has made up.”

  “What? I wasn't some damsel in distress imagining you as Superman,” I joke. “Now I see that it's not all stiff competition. I'm still stuck on your interest in comic books, going against the grain of your grandfather, who probably should have invented Wikipedia based on all the quotes you've said during our runs.”

  “Nah, no Wikipedia. And I've placed enough encyclopedia passages into rote memory. I’m a firm believer in too much bloody education. Comic books were the only literature thin enough to fit inside those heavy bounds. Bollocks, I have told you too much,” he says wittily. “On the other hand, I could see how me holding a rank in the army would be enticing. But no, I was arguing about a trade, with a bloke who wasn’t man enough to understand that verbal agreements are ironclad in my book. I think I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

  “What is it?” My eyes sparkle with amusement.

  “You promise not to laugh?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “The owner of Coco allowed me to borrow his superyacht for just one glance at the Detective Comics volume twenty-seven (1939).”

  “Damn, did you allow him to even touch it?”

  “Bugger me! You have the audacity to ask such a question? Never would I ever.”

  I lean my face into the pillow to laugh.

  “Don’t mind me, Siobhan. Enjoy your crack up,” he mumbles sarcastically.

  “Aw, I’m sorry.” I kiss his lips, silly grin on my face. “Y
ou are serious, aren’t you?”

  “Quite serious.”

  “Well, in my mind, I’ve visualized this iron-clad agreement between the two of you. He allowed you to borrow his superyacht. Not a bag of sugar or not even a damn tool to work on his old car, but a damn yacht. And all he received in return was the ability to look at a comic book.” I rub the tears of laughter from my cheek. “Can I touch it?”

  “Not in a million years, beautiful.” He reaches between us and grabs his junk. “I’ve got something else you can touch though.”

  “Oh really?” I taste those addictive lips for a second time.

  “Anytime you’d like.”

  “Okay, I appreciate knowing I can fuck you anytime.” I sigh, face aglow with happiness. “And once again, you’re not changing the subject from your comic books, Lincoln, so I promise to hop on it later. Any who, I assume your comic book is worth lots. Hundreds of dollars?”

  “Try millions. DC volume twenty-seven has the first appearance of Batman.”

  “Hmmm.” I nod, impressed. “I’m sure the price tag isn’t what pulled you in.”

  “No, it’s not an investment, unless you consider passing it down to my first born in the future.”

  I chuckle again, feeling light and airy. “Well, damn, it’s like a family heirloom then, move over diamonds and rubies. So all jokes aside, comic books were a welcome change in your home, albeit you had to sneak them.”

  “Yes, I’m glad you see things my way. The truth didn’t steal my credit, did it? I prefer you view me as your superhero,” he declares, pulling me into his rock-hard body.

  “Not in the least. I give credit when credit is due. Besides, you handled that demon dog, so you can be my Batman. But not to shade your reading material, I’m sure comic books have given you a high dose of motivation. Where did you learn to fight?”

  “Where did I learn to fight? Okay, that’s easy, but just a moment, as Batman claims his reward.” His lips descend over mine. Our tongues twine and I taste the dark strength of him and my sweet sugar from a little while ago when my pussy was plastered over his mouth. The instant Lincoln pulls away I’ve long forgotten what I had inquired about.