by Jenni Wilder
I collapsed on top of him, and we were both quiet for a long while as we tried to steady our breathing and calm our heart rates.
“Don’t move,” he said after a little while and wrapped his arms around me to hold me against him. “I just want to stay like this. You feel so good. So warm.” He was still buried inside me, and it made me feel complete to still be connected to him. So I fully relaxed on top of him and drifted off to sleep, using his chest as my pillow.
Of course, sometime during the night we had shifted position, and when I woke the next morning, I was lying on my back. Lincoln was wrapped around me with one arm across my belly and one leg across mine. His head rested on my shoulder.
I tried to look at the clock on the nightstand without waking him. We had to meet his parents for lunch before the game, and I had no idea how late we had slept. I finally managed to tip my head back enough to see we still had two hours before we had to leave. I wanted to give myself extra time to do something with my hair so I would look nice, but lying in bed like this with Lincoln had its advantages too. Our blankets had been pushed down during the night, and I could see his naked ass as he partially laid on me. The curves of his round muscles were so tempting. I just wanted to run my hands over it and squeeze. Hard.
“Mm… Well, this is a nice view to wake up to,” he said as he reached up and cupped my breast that was directly below his face.
“I was thinking the same thing.” I couldn’t reach his tempting ass, but I ran my fingertips over his abdominal muscles that I had licked every inch of last night.
Lincoln kicked the blankets off us completely before shifting to his knees and elbows to hover over me. He made a trail of kisses from where his head had been down the swell of my breast until he reached my nipple. I threaded my fingers through his hair and forced him to look up at me.
“You are a maniac,” I told him as he made eye contact with me. He grinned and lowered his mouth to lightly swirl his tongue around my nipple. Involuntarily I arched my back in reaction to his teasing. “Mm… didn’t you get enough last night? You’re not going to have any energy for the game.”
He made eye contact with me again and smirked. “Don’t worry about the game, baby. And for the record, I’ll never have enough of you.”
He lowered his mouth to my nipple once more, and without any hesitation, sucked as much of my breast as possible into his mouth.
I groaned loudly as pleasure radiated through me. It felt as if I had a direct line of pleasure from his mouth to my groin. With every flick of his tongue, need and desire coursed through my body, centering in my pelvis.
I groaned again. “Lincoln. Oh, God. I want you.”
He moved his hand between my legs, and I let out a strangled cry as he ran two fingers through my folds. He dipped them inside me before swirling his thumb around my sensitive nub.
“Don’t stop,” I commanded, and he increased his movements. His mouth never left my breast as I writhed with pleasure underneath him. I cried out his name as my back arched and my nerve endings exploded causing pleasure to wash through my body.
I relaxed back against the bed and closed my eyes, trying to savor the last moments of satisfaction.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Lincoln said before he kissed me. His voice was thick with desire. “That was just a preview.”
I chuckled and smiled up at him as he hovered above me. “Well, let’s get to the main attraction then.”
I clasped his erect penis in my hand and slid my fist up and down a few times. Lincoln’s eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled back and his breathing got deeper.
Wrapping my legs around his hips, I tried to line us up, ready for him to thrust into me.
“No,” he said and pushed off me on to his knees. “Roll over.”
I bit my lip in anticipation and quickly complied. Lincoln ran his hands up the back of my thighs, over the mounds of my butt, and settled on my hips. He gently and briefly traced his fingertips over the scars on my hip before placing several kisses on the small of my back.
I gasped as he pulled up sharply on my hips causing me to kneel on the bed with my face down. Grabbing a pillow, I wedged it between my forearms and rested my chest against it.
I felt the tip of him at my entrance and nearly cried with relief as he pushed inside me. We both moaned as he filled me completely. He was so deep this way. I arched my back as he pulled out, and when he thrust into me again, he angled forward, causing himself to rub against the most sensitive areas. My eyes rolled, and my hands clenched around the pillow, and I cried out in surprise.
Holy shit. That feels good.
“Lincoln! More! Just like that!” I begged into the pillow, and he pulled back before moving inside me again. Tingles of pleasure burst every time he rubbed against a certain spot as he filled me over and over.
His hands tightened on my hips, and he groaned when I rocked back against him.
The feeling multiplied as Lincoln increased his speed. One wave of sensation washed into the other until I was a quivering mass. I screamed into my pillow as pleasure overflowed and exploded through my body.
I heard Lincoln cry out my name as he pumped into me a final time before stilling, his hard member buried deep inside me. My muscles involuntarily clenched around him, squeezing him tight as he spurted into me. Our cries mingled together as we both tried to make our orgasms last as long as possible.
My arms finally gave out, and we both crumpled forward onto the bed. Lincoln managed to not fall on me, but he immediately curled around my back and wrapped an arm around me, holding me tight to him.
“That was amazing,” I said while panting for breath.
He buried his face in my hair and breathed deep. “You’re amazing,” he whispered against my neck.
We dozed in bed for another half hour, tangled around each other in a haze of postorgasmic bliss until the alarm clock went off. I didn’t want to leave our warm cocoon, but I knew we couldn’t stay like that forever. I finally left Lincoln sleeping in bed while I got up to shower and get ready for my anxiety-filled day.
I assessed myself in the floorlength mirror when I was almost done primping. As usual when I attended a game, I was wearing my Blackhawks’ jersey with Lincoln’s name and number on the back. Today I paired it with calf-length black leggings with lace on the bottom and flat black Toms shoes. Well, knockoff Toms, since I couldn’t afford the real thing.
I stood staring at my reflection in the mirror as Lincoln exited the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Is this okay for lunch with a member of congress?” I held my arms out to indicate I needed his opinion on my clothes.
“Yeah. Of course,” he answered absentmindedly.
“I brought a nice sweater too. Maybe I should wear that with some dressier shoes. Or I have some dark jeans. I don’t know if that would help, though. At least they would be long pants. That might look nicer, right? Or I could wear my dress from last night, except it’s really not appropriate for a hockey game.” I bit my thumbnail as I analyzed my clothes, which seemed to have exploded out of my duffel bag.
“Jillian,” Lincoln said loudly, breaking my concentration on the mirror. “In the whole time I have known you, you have never worried about your clothes. Stop freaking out. You look fine.”
“Fine? I just look fine?” Panic filled my voice. I reached for my duffel bag and began ruffling through it again. “Maybe I should wear the sweater.”
“Baby, stop.” He came up beside me and grabbed my hands, preventing me from digging through my bag. “I didn’t mean you just look fine. I meant you look perfect for going to a hockey game. You look beautiful, like always.”
I chewed on my lip with worry.
“I’ve never seen you like this. Why are you so worried?”
I exhaled the breath I had been holding. “I want your parents to like me.”
His strong hands gently grasped my shoulders as he bent down to look me in the eye. “They will. Why would
you doubt that?”
I looked down at my feet. “I don’t know. I don’t have the right shoes. I don’t always say the right thing. Your dad knows about the picture and my scars. I don’t want him to think badly of me.”
He sighed. “Do I care about any of those things, Princess?”
I shook my head.
“Do Kennedy and Carter care about those things?
I shook my head again.
“Then why do you think our parents would?”
I shrugged. “I just want them to like me,” I repeated.
“Please relax. Yes, we’re having lunch with my mom and dad, but I promise they will like you. And if for some crazy reason they don’t, it won’t matter to me. I will still love you the same, okay?”
I looked up at him and nodded. I kissed him quick and gave him a tight smile.
“Besides,” he continued. “If you change into nicer clothes, then I’m going to look like a slob because all I packed are old jeans and an old Hawks T-shirt and hat.”
I laughed. “Okay. We’ll both look like slobs in front of your parents. At least they’ll know we’re meant to be together.”
“We are.” He kissed me again before walking to the other side of the room to his duffel bag. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready.”
Five minutes! Men definitely have it easier than women!
Chapter Eleven
Lunch was held at a restaurant near our hotel. It was close enough that Lincoln and I walked there while holding hands. My nerves were starting to get the better of me again. Lincoln tried to distract me with random trivia about our nation’s capital, but it didn’t really help.
When we reached the entrance to the restaurant, Lincoln paused. “All right. Now when you meet my dad, remember there’s a specific way you have to address him.”
My eyes went wide. “There is?”
He nodded seriously. “You have to call him either Grand Regal Senator Monaghan or His Imperial Congressionalship”
I blinked up at Lincoln before I furrowed my brows in confusion. Lincoln’s straight face cracked, and he let a smile slip before busting out in laughter.
I smiled and rolled my eyes at him. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself for believing him for a split second. “Geez, Lincoln. What would you have done if I had believed you?”
“I would have told you that you forgot to curtsy,” he said as he held the door to the restaurant open for me.
I laughed at his smart-ass response. Crossing my ankles and bending my knees, I held up the bottom edge of my jersey as if it were a skirt and curtsied for Lincoln before walking into the restaurant.
Lincoln’s booming laughter echoed behind me, and I smiled back at him. He had, once again, made me feel better. I had forgotten I was supposed to be nervous.
The restaurant Lincoln’s mother had picked for lunch was a moderately fancy little bistro. The tables and chairs were wooden with white tablecloths while the booths that lined the brick-and-mortar walls were a deep red color.
Only a few tables and booths were occupied, and Lincoln’s parents were easy to spot. They sat at a table near the back, and even if they hadn’t stood up from their chairs to wave at us from across the restaurant, I would have known it was them. Senator Monaghan wore a jersey that matched mine, and his wife had donned a red zip-up hooded sweatshirt with Chicago Blackhawks written across the front.
Lincoln waved before taking my hand to walk over to them. He leaned down and whispered into my ear. “See? I told you your outfit was perfect.”
I smiled and shook my head at how ridiculous I had been this morning. It seemed so silly now to be worried about my outfit. Of course Lincoln’s parents would be showing their pride for their son by wearing their Hawks gear.
Lincoln’s parents stepped around the table to greet us as we approached. I hung back, allowing my man to say hello first.
“Lincoln!” his mother exclaimed as she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.
“Son,” Senator Monaghan said warmly when Lincoln’s mother finally let go of him. They shook hands and gave each other a small hug.
Lincoln’s mother took his face in her hands. “Oh, it’s been too long, sweetheart. How are you?”
He reached up to grab her wrists but didn’t remove her hands. “I’m great, Mom.”
“Keeping up with practice? Staying out of trouble?”
I couldn’t see his face, but I suspected Lincoln was rolling his eyes at his mother. “Of course, Mom.”
“Lizzie, let him be,” the senator said, scolding his wife. “I want to meet this girl of his.”
“Oh, yes!” Lincoln’s mother exclaimed. “Where is she?”
My chest tightened and my mouth went dry as my nerves came back in full force. I slowly and quietly blew out the breath I was holding as Lincoln stepped to the side, allowing me to be the center of attention.
“Mom and Dad, this is my princess.”
I swallowed hard as his mom and dad’s eyes focused on me.
“It’s an hon”—my voice cracked and I coughed to clear my throat—“it’s an honor to meet you,” I managed to say.
“Jillian,” the senator said as he held his hand out to me. “The honor is all ours. Now I can see why Lincoln won’t stop talking about you.”
I blushed as I took his hand to shake it, but he surprised me by pulling me close to hug me gently.
Lincoln’s mom came up next to us and rubbed my back as I hugged her husband. The senator let go of me, and immediately his wife embraced me tightly before holding me out at arm’s length.
“So wonderful to meet you, Jillian. Did you enjoy the museum?”
“I did, Mrs. Monaghan. It was really spectacular.” I turned to the senator. “Thank you so much for getting us in after hours.”
“Anytime, Jillian. Anytime. Shall we sit?” He waved his arm to the table.
“And call me Elizabeth,” Lincoln’s mom said. “No one calls me Lizzie except Ron.” She patted her husband’s hand as he pulled her chair out for her.
I ended up sitting diagonal from Lincoln and his father and across the table from Elizabeth.
Our waiter approached our table and stood next to me. “Uh-oh. Blackhawks fans, huh? Not sure I can wait on you today.”
It was an obvious, yet terrible attempt at a joke, but I smiled and bit my lip. The middle-aged, balding man apparently didn’t recognize Lincoln or his father.
“I take it you’re a Capitals fan?” Lincoln asked with humor.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Well, I would say yes, but today’s going to be a tough game for the Caps. Those Hawks are on fire lately.”
A proud smile filled my face. It was true. My man and the rest of the team were on a winning streak. They’d won their last ten games. But of course that meant their ridiculous superstitions came out in full force. None of Lincoln’s teammates had shaved their beards or washed their socks since the streak began. I tried to ask him how playing in dirty socks helped, but he just laughed and told me not to jinx it.
“Don’t get me wrong,” our waiter continued. “I’m a diehard Cappies fan, but those Hawks are something else lately. Did you see that goal Olofsson made against the Predators two nights ago? They must have replayed it on ESPN at least twenty times. Damn good stick handling. And Monaghan! Talk about good skating! They’re saying no one can touch him lately!”
“Oh?” I asked trying to stifle my laughter. You’d think for as much as a hockey nut as this guy seemed to be, he’d recognize Lincoln.
“Yeaaaah…,” he said, drawing out the vowel sound when he spoke. “Don’t know how long it’ll last, though. He was playing pretty rough a month or so back. If he could just stay consistently good, they would have done better earlier in the season.”
Lincoln leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Oh really? Well, they seem to think I play pretty good in Chicago.”
I giggled and looked up at our flabbergasted waiter. He had finally put th
e pieces together. His face turned red with embarrassment as he looked between Lincoln and the senator.
“Oh. I’m so sorry. I—uh—don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean any offense. I’m—uh—I’ll get you a new waiter.”
Lincoln laughed loudly. “It’s okay, man. You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“No, sir. I spoke out of place. I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about.”
I laughed. “Actually, you do.” Lincoln had played like crap during the time I wasn’t speaking to him. He skipped practice and was a wreck on the ice. The team had suffered because he was upset over me, and I did feel guilty about that.
Lincoln looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Geez, thanks, honey. You’re so sweet.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, and I laughed.
Senator Monaghan winked at me. “She’s just keeping it real, son. I like that.”
The poor embarrassed waiter took our meal orders and quickly fled from our table.
“Jillian,” Lincoln’s mom said. “We were so glad to hear you were okay after the incident in the hospital. Carter was a mess when he called to tell us what was happening.”
Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Mom, can we not talk about that?”
“Well, I just wanted to say I’m glad she’s okay.”
I smiled shyly. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I think it was worse for Lincoln than it was for me. I slept through most of it.” I laughed as I tried to make light of the situation.
“So! Lincoln tells us you’re a scientist,” the senator said, and I was grateful for the subject change. It was easy to talk about my research. The information poured out of me, and before I knew it I had given them a long summary of my entire thesis.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I talking too much?”
“Not at all, dear,” Elizabeth answered with a warm smile as Lincoln chuckled and squeezed my hand.
