Free Christmas Pleasures: A Blurred Lines Short by Breena Wilde Page B

knees tremble in anticipation. Just as I was about to knock on the door, it opened.
    Lincoln smiled.
    I let out a yelp. “Hi,” I said weakly.
    He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. It was weird to see him dressed in something other than a suit; he wore faded jeans and a cream sweater. His dark hair was slightly longer than the last time I saw him. I knew he had disappeared with Zane, and wondered if us being here was okay—if we were safe.
    “Hi back. I wondered how long you were going to stand out there .” His hair was wet and slicked back. The room was steamy and smelled of expensive cologne. He’d obviously just had a shower and I realized I wanted one of those.
    My face flushed with heat. “I was thinkin g—”
    Lincoln’s lips crushed mine. His breath smelled like mint toothpaste and a hint of brandy. I dropped the bag draped over my shoulder and my purse and put my arms around his neck. God, he felt good. I’d imagined this moment—our first kiss—a hundred times, and this was so much better.
    His lips opened my mouth. I met his tongue with mine. He pulled off my coat and let it fall to the floor. I had on a button up navy shirt. He undid the first button and then pulled the rest apart as though they were nothing.
    I moaned against his mouth, hungry for him, for more. This had been what I wanted, what I needed. It was more than I could’ve hoped that he was giving it to me right away. “Lincoln,” I whispered, suckling his lower lip.
    He growled, unhooking my bra and sliding it off my arms. His hands covered my breasts and his fingers rolled my nipples softly as first until I pushed into him, begging him with my body for more. He squeezed them harder and I gasped. Hot desire coursed through my body and down between my legs.
    My hands found the front of his pants and I unbuckled his leather belt. He pulled back a moment. His usually stoic expression was gone and in its place was hunger. Lust. Need.
    I knew in that moment I wante d to be the woman to fulfill his needs. Every last one of them.
    “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse with emotion.
    “Yes, Lincoln. I want you to fuck me.”
    That was all he needed. He wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks so his pants slid off with ease. He boxer-briefs clung to his muscled thighs. His already hardened cock stood at attention, pressing against his black underwear. I wanted to see more. I wanted to see all of him. I tugged on his sweater. He gave a wisp of a smile as he pulled it off and tossed it to the floor. Then he lifted me into his arms. I wrapped my thighs around his hips, feeling his huge cock pressing against my ass.  I touched his face. It was clean-shaven and soft.
    He walked us over to the bed, set me down and, keeping one hand on my waist, he ripped off the comforter with the other. The he leaned down, kissed my neck, and laid me on my back. I let my hands slide along his back, up his shoulders, and over arms. His muscles flexed and rippled as he held himself above me.
    “Is there anything you won’t do?” he asked, trailing kisses between my breasts and along my ribs to my waist.
    That was an odd question. Most guys just took as much as they could without asking first ; at least, that’d been my experience in the past. It probably had a lot to do with the industry I was in. The actors felt entitled to whatever and whomever they wanted. As a lowly makeup artist I was low on the totem pole, but oooh, the stories I could tell.
    Maybe someday. Right now I was with someone who actually cared about what I thought, what I wanted.
    I leaned up and kissed his earlobe. “As long as it’s with you, I’m game.”
    Lincoln smiled, kissed my cheeks. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good.”
    I ran my fingers through his hair. “I’ll hold you to that,” I whispered shyly.
    He gently pushed me down on the bed, licked my hipbones, and kissed directly above my slit.
    I moaned in anticipation, running my fingers along the