The Player's Club: Lincoln

by Cathy Yardley

  God, how I want this man! Her skin tingled as though she was being brushed by chinchilla…every nerve ending felt alive and was screaming for attention.

  He screeched into his driveway, and she already had her seat belt off and was opening the door before the engine had turned off. They both sprinted to the doorway, and she laughed breathlessly when he struggled with the keys, dropping them clumsily in his haste.

  “I’ve broken into a hundred houses, and I can’t manage my own damned keys,” he muttered, but she heard it clearly in the still morning air.

  “Why did you break into houses?”

  He glanced up, startled, as he put the key in. “What? Never mind,” he said, and reached for her as he got the door open. He tugged her across the threshold, his mouth finding hers in the darkness of his foyer. She kicked off her shoes as he shut the door, kissing him hard as he groped, reaching for the dead bolt of his door. For a second, they stood like that, like a quick-burning fire. She felt his palms cup her breasts, then streak down the planes of her stomach to grip her hips, his erection weighing heavy and solid against her stomach. She lightly bit his lower lip, sucking on it as she gripped his shoulders, then wove her fingers in his hair.

  “I need you,” she breathed against his jaw, before nibbling his earlobe. “I have never wanted any man as badly as I want you right now.”

  He groaned, then said something incomprehensible as he tugged off her fleece jacket and yanked her shirt over her head. She slid her hands under his shirt, and felt his smooth, muscle-ripped chest. When he tugged the hem up and stripped it off, her mouth absolutely watered.

  Damn. How in the world had he been managing to hide that six-pack, those yoked shoulders, under those crisp business shirts? She pressed a few hot kisses against his chest, then nipped at him lightly. There was so much to take a bite out of, and suddenly, she was starving.

  “Juliana,” he said, on a long exhale. “We ought to take it to the bedroom....”

  “Heck with the bedroom,” she said, reaching for his fly, undoing the button and tugging the zipper open. She could feel the heat coming off his cock like a campfire, and she suddenly wanted to rub her fingers over the hard, long length of it. “I don’t think I could make it another step....”

  She let out a quick, startled yelp when he grabbed her, tossing her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. Then she laughed, a full, delighted sound, as he carted her up the curving wooden staircase.

  “Trust me, my bed’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than the hardwood floor,” he said. How he managed not to kill them or trip in the dark suggested he was comfortable moving around without any lights, for which she was grateful. But she was even more grateful when he put her down on what felt like a cloud—a big, plush mattress in a room that was pitch-black.

  She reached out blindly, unsure of where he was. Her eyes were having trouble adjusting. “Lincoln?”

  He seemed to appear out of nowhere, his mouth on her throat, his tongue delving in the hollow of her collarbone. Then, as if by magic, her front clasp bra was undone. Her back arched as she felt the hot, moist heat of his mouth on her breast. He slipped the bra off her, then switched breasts, leaving her nipples tight and hard as diamonds.

  “Lincoln…” she breathed. In the dark, his hair felt like cold silk under her fingertips, and his mouth like hot satin. She sank into the mattress, lifting her hips when he tugged off her pants, her panties and socks, leaving her completely naked.

  He left her alone for a moment, and she couldn’t help it—she whimpered. She heard the tiny hissing sounds of clothing sliding off, and the thump as he obviously dumped his pants and whatnot on the floor. Then he was sliding against her, his skin just as hot as hers. His mouth found hers again, and she parted her lips, her tongue seeking and finding his as she crushed her breasts against his chest. Best of all, she could feel the hot thick length of him, poking against her, prodding blindly against her thighs. Angling slightly, she tried to ease him onto her, ease him into her so she could get that length just where she wanted it.

  He surprised her again, pressing her back against the bed. “No, not yet.”

  She whimpered again, a plea and a cry of frustration.

  “I’ve waited too long to have you.” His voice was disembodied, full of amusement and still taut with passion. “I’m not going to cheat myself, or you. So you’ll just have to be patient, sweetheart.”

  Now she growled. Funny, how intense passion completely robbed her of coherent speech.

  He only laughed in response, then she felt him press hot, gliding kisses between her breasts, down her stomach. He tickled her belly button with his tongue, and she found herself giggling, the desperate pressure of desire easing down to an almost manageable level.

  Then he moved lower than her navel, and she swore her eyes crossed.

  She felt his hot breath first, then he parted her with his fingers. His tongue swirled just at the top of her pussy, and she gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily. He moved down more firmly, his tongue seeking out and finding the hard triangular bump that was growing harder and more pronounced with each damp, ticklish stroke.

  Her breathing was coming in short, choppy gasps. She could sense, more than feel, his smile of delight as he gripped her hips, keeping her in place as he pressed more firmly and really started to work.

  She went wet in a rush, her head rolling from side to side against the pillow-soft comforter. Her thighs tightened convulsively as his lips and tongue stroked her to delirium. When his teeth grazed her, she let out a mewling cry.

  When he pressed inside her with one broad finger, she lost her mind. The orgasm overtook her, and she shivered as her whole body convulsed.

  When she went still, she noticed he was shuddering a bit, as well. Then, he retreated slightly.

  “That was great,” she said, sounding a bit dazed. Instead of simply plunging in and getting his, now that she’d gotten hers, as she’d expected, he kissed her thighs, nipping her, surprising her. His rough fingertips stroked at the back of her knees.

  She wondered if he expected her to return the favor. Then smiled, as she realized that wasn’t a bad idea at all.

  She tried pressing him back, and found him resisting. “I don’t think I’m done yet,” he breathed, nipping at her shoulder. He was a nibbler, and she discovered she found that delightful.

  “Take a breather, then,” she said, and pushed him more insistently, until he was on his back. “I think I’m going to tag in for a second.”

  She stroked her hands down his chest.... God, she’d love to see him, but realized that this near-blinding darkness had its own allure. Next time, she promised herself. Then she reached down until she felt the springy, curly hair covering his balls. His cock jutted up like a pole, hard as a bat, smooth and soft as cashmere. Experimentally, she stroked the rounded cap, and was rewarded by his tremor of pleasure, the feeling of wetness dotting the tip.

  “Juliana, you don’t have to…” he said, then she heard him groan as she traced the edge of the cap with her tongue. She felt the vein pulsing thickly at the base. Then she took him in her mouth, as best she could. He was enormous.

  She went wet again in anticipation.

  She suckled on him, gently, with increasing urgency as his hips arched up to meet her insistent mouth. As she could only fit him partially, she made up the difference by stroking his shaft with her hands, alternately cupping his balls in a way that had his pulse increasing. She got into it, didn’t even think of any other alternative until he finally said, “Juliana, stop.”

  She paused, holding his shaft firmly. “What?”

  “I want to be inside you,” he said, and his voice was hoarse. “I have to be inside you.”

  She smiled, then laughed quietly when he shifted their positions. He covered her like a blanket, and she felt his hips position between her thighs.

  “Why, Lincoln, you’re so…”

  Before she could finish the sentence, he was reaching down a
nd positioning the broad, blunt tip of himself at her entrance. Then, with a slow, steady motion, he buried himself into her, his full length filling her until she shook with the pleasure of it. She couldn’t speak…she couldn’t think. All she could do was revel in the sheer overwhelming feel of him.

  “Juliana,” he rasped, as he withdrew by slow inches and then pressed forward. The pressure of him, gliding against her sensitive flesh, was stoking the fire of her next orgasm. She clawed at his back, her rounded fingernails dragging at his flesh before settling on his ass and pulling him tighter. His movements grew less refined, more energetic.

  Every time he pressed full into her, bumping against her clit, she let out a cry of pleasure. The rhythm went faster. She hooked her legs around his, rising up to meet his every thrust as her body shook with his unrelenting passion.

  “I want you,” she panted. “I want you…to come…inside me....”

  “Juliana!” he shouted, as his hips rammed against hers mercilessly.

  The slamming pleasure of him, the feel of his heated release, was like pulling the trigger of a gun. The orgasm exploded inside her and she screamed, clutching at him, shuddering in waves.

  When it was over, he collapsed on top of her for a moment, and she didn’t care. After a minute, he slid to her side, twisting so she was on top of him. “You all right?”

  “I’m incredible,” she assured him.

  “I’ll second that.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, well…let me get my breath, and we’ll see about seconds.”

  In fact, she thought, she’d probably see about thirds.

  9

  JULIANA HAD GOTTEN ABOUT two hours of sleep the night before. Now she was in the lobby of a swanky steak house during lunch rush, standing with the man who had made her body sing like a Stradivarius in his pitch-black bedroom.

  And his magnificent marble shower, when they bathed that morning.

  And in his car, in the underground parking garage of her condominium complex.

  Consequently, she was feeling a little punchy, deliciously sore…and, frankly, a little puzzled at the man standing next to her, looking remarkably well dressed and well rested.

  “You’ve got superhuman stamina,” she muttered, and he shot a lazy smile at her. At least she wasn’t as nervous about finally seeing her parents....

  “Juliana, darling!” her mother sang out in greeting, getting the attention of everyone within earshot. Which was, Juliana remembered, the point.

  Juliana tensed as her mother strode through the entrance of the exclusive Gary Danko restaurant and kissed her. Arianna looked great, as always. She was fifty-four years old, but still willow thin, wearing a wonderful, sexy midnight-blue dress, her hair tastefully colored a slightly darker mahogany than the last time Juliana had seen her. Her mother was wearing large, Jackie O-style sunglasses, which naturally brought attention to the fact that she was trying not to attract attention. Her legs were still phenomenal, and the four-inch stilettos certainly emphasized that.

  “What a lovely restaurant! I haven’t been out to San Francisco for ages.” She air-kissed her daughter, then looked speculatively at Lincoln, who was standing at a respectable distance behind them. “Ah! Now, is this the reason you brought me all the way out—”

  “Jules, bunny!” Her father’s voice carried from the curving maple bar near the front door, heard as easily as if he were again treading the boards on Broadway or the West End. He moved quickly past the diners and linen-draped tables, gracefully, like a dancer. He kissed Juliana’s cheek, gave her a quick hug. Then glanced at her mother, smiling ruefully. “Arianna.”

  “Jason,” her mother said, bored with a twist of sour. She removed her huge sunglasses, tucking them in her tasteful purse, and revealed violet-blue eyes that had a snap of anger lighting them. “I’d forgotten that Juliana invited you, as well.”

  “I figured it had to be pretty important if she invited both of us together,” he said, his voice more appropriately modulated now, although people were still staring at them. He, too, noticed Lincoln, and stuck his hand out. “Jason Mayfield.”

  “Of course,” Lincoln said, shaking. “Lincoln Stone.”

  Juliana could see her father cycling through his mental Rolodex, trying to figure out if Lincoln was “in the business”…and consequently, how hard he ought to be schmoozing.

  “I’m a friend of Juliana’s,” he clarified, and she saw her father’s quick, almost dismissive grin as he turned back to her.

  “And such a handsome friend,” her mother said, looping an arm through his and shooting him a flirtatious smile. “Juliana, why didn’t you mention that such a handsome friend would be joining us?”

  Juliana grinned tightly. I am in hell, she thought. “Let’s just—”

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Lincoln interrupted, “but I got you a private dining room. Thought it might be more conducive to, ah, catching up.”

  Her father’s face flashed, just a second’s worth of recalculation. Lincoln could get the private room at Gary Danko on a whim, she could almost read her father’s thoughts. Lincoln was rich. Which meant her father’s schmooze alert was probably pinging again.

  She knew Lincoln’s presence would be a problem, she thought, quashing an internal sigh. She just knew it. She followed the waiter, her family and Lincoln to the intimate dining room. It screamed wealth: burgundy walls, black marble wet bar, exquisite floral centerpieces. The waiter seated them, set the leather-bound menus in front of them, then vanished. Her father looked around for a second, nodding. Her mother simply smiled behind the menu.

  Neither of them, she knew, were as well off as they’d been ten years ago. Hell, five years ago. Guess times are tough all over for the Mayfields, she thought caustically.

  Well, at least she’d get this farce over with, pick up the check. Then she could figure out what the hell she was going to steal, and how she was going to film it. The more important challenge. This would all be a blip, a technicality. No big deal.

  If this is so insignificant, why are your palms sweating?

  She sat down, her parents on either side, Lincoln across the table from her. She waited until everyone had ordered their meals and the waiter had delivered their drinks. She took a big, fortifying sip of Cabernet.

  “This is lovely, but I can’t help but wonder…what’s so crucial, that we needed to see you face-to-face?” Arianna asked, eyeing her daughter. “What’s the big news?”

  “It’s nothing earth-shattering, Arianna,” she said, and caught Lincoln’s eyebrows lifting at the use of her mother’s name. She’d explain later. “I’m just here to see you two. Talk to you a bit.”

  “So how do you know my daughter?” her father said, focusing on Lincoln. “You’re not her usual crowd of useless trust-fund kids.”

  “Dad,” she muttered.

  “What? Perhaps it’s a bit impolitic, but Lincoln here looks like a businessman,” he said, nodding sagely. “A man of the world. And let’s face it, Jules, you’re not exactly the, ah, serious type.”

  She glanced at Lincoln, trying to gauge how he was taking this. Her mother, on the other hand, tilted her head, propping it on one hand. “He isn’t your usual type, darling,” she admitted.

  “Mom…Arianna,” she corrected quickly, at her mother’s stern look. “I know Lincoln through mutual friends, that’s all. He wanted to be here.”

  “Moral support,” Lincoln said.

  “Moral…” Her mother blinked, her luminous eyes widening. “What is this about, Juliana? Are you sick? Is something wrong?”

  Now her father tuned in a little. “What? What’s going on?”

  “I just wanted to…” She took a deep breath. “I haven’t talked with you that much in the past few years. I just wanted to say…how much you guys mean to me.”

  They sat, silent, staring at her.

  “You, ah…” Inhale. Just spit it out. Just like you rehearsed. “You sacrificed so much to get me to the best schools. You set up my tru
st fund.”

  “Which your father regularly pilfered,” her mother said, sipping champagne and sending him a saccharine smile.

  “To help pay for those best schools,” her father retorted. “You’re the one who insisted on a European boarding school, for Christ’s sake. When there are plenty of ones in the States, for maybe half the cost. And why did she have to go to boarding school, anyway? Whose idea was that?”

  Juliana pressed forward, over their exchanged sneers. “I’ve gotten so much from both of you. I just wanted to thank you for all of that. And tell you…how much I love you.”

  There. She’d said it. She shot a glare at Lincoln. If that didn’t count, she didn’t know what did.

  “God. Is it cancer?”

  She blinked, momentarily thrown by her father’s comment. “What?”

  “Cancer,” he repeated, and he looked pained, scared even. “Do you have cancer? Is that what this is all about?”

  “Cancer,” Arianna said, pressing her hands to her chest. Okay, to her cleavage. “Oh, no. This is all my fault. I didn’t make sure you ate the right things as a child, always let the schools make those kind of decisions. You never learned how to diet properly. Is this my fault?”

  “It probably is,” her father agreed eagerly. “You never were a proper mother to her, and now…”

  “What? She’s an adult. She’s almost thirty,” her mother carried on, her guilt quickly swamped with rage. “And you were hardly a role model! If anything, she probably got it from all those partying ways. And I can just bet where she learned that.”

  “Hello? No, I don’t frickin’ have cancer,” Juliana snapped. For pity’s sake, did they have to make everything so bloody dramatic? “I’m fine. I’m perfectly healthy.”

  “Then why in the world are you spending your frequent flyer miles to get us in the same room? You know I’m not overly fond of spending time with your father. Obviously.”