by Jianne Carlo
Linc clamped the champagne magnum he carried under one arm and relieved her of the dish. “About-face, woman. Time to eat.”
His glance dropped to the plate. “There's more, I hope.”
More? More what? Food, he's talking about food.
“I made you two eggs.” Destiny knew she sounded peeved.
“And two might do, if you'd done hash browns. Don't get me wrong—I'm not complaining. ’S no problemo, I'll have a few PB and Js later on.”
His elbow nudged her into motion; she turned and shuffled to the table.
That was stupid. He probably eats ten thousand calories a day. I should have known better.
She calculated how long it'd take to whip up a hungry-man-sized portion of hash browns, halted at the table, and stared at a muddy, knotted swirl in the pine. If she cut thin slices, it wouldn't take more than ten minutes, tops.
“Let's get you out of these clothes. Lift.”
Whaaat?
Before Destiny could utter a protest, he tugged her T-shirt up; she raised her arms automatically. He slipped the cotton over her head and flicked the cotton to the opposite counter.
“We're eating naked?” Scandalized, she squeaked the question.
“Nah, you can wear the fuzzy pink birds.” He dropped on one knee, tugged her pants over her hips, and she heard his gulp when he saw her naked flesh. “Jesus.”
Her pubic hairs danced in the gust escaping his lips, and that wonderful fluttering in Destiny's stomach flickered a burning throbbing over her clitoris. “You're wet already. That’s my woman.”
His tongue laved a slow, hard lick across her hood, and she had to grab his shoulders to remain standing.
“Linc.” Linc, Linc.
Abruptly the sweet torture halted, he stood, swooped her into his strong arms, and sat on the chair.
On the chair?
It'd never hold them.
Pop!
“Oooh.” She yelped as icy champagne spurted onto her chest. “That's cooold.”
“Sorry.” He set the bottle next to the slate dish and then sucked the liquid off her breast.
Destiny's head tipped back, eyes half closed, sensation prickling her nipples hard and tight and aching.
“Better?” His rumbled question tickled the whorls of her ear.
“Mmm.” She let her head fall to one side; her eyelids drooped.
His tongue should be awarded the Medal of Honor.
“Open.”
She studied his twitching lips. “We're really going to eat?”
“You betcha. Open.”
She opened her mouth. A forkful of egg, ham, and muffin smothered in hollandaise sauce slipped between her parted lips.
He really intends to feed me.
She chewed and watched him pour champagne into a flute.
“Good?”
Destiny swallowed and nodded her head. He touched the goblet to her lips. “Drink.”
Because she didn't drink often and she wanted to remember every moment, Destiny took the tiniest sip. “Aren't you having any food or champagne?”
“When you're done, I'll gobble the rest.”
True to his statement, he didn't take a bite. Somehow her mouth wasn't functioning properly and bits of ham and muffin cascaded to her breasts. Lincoln grinned as each morsel fell, and took his sweet time eating at the food, licking a wide path to each crumble.
Who knew eating naked could be so much fun? And so…so squirmy. The more he laved and sucked, the more she wanted her turn. Destiny protested; he fed her more fizzy wine. She grew dizzy, the heat between her legs blazing rational thought to cinders.
When he tipped champagne onto one nipple, she tried to object, tried to cut him a chunk of muffin and egg and feed him, but he only growled “uh-uh” each time and stared her into compliance.
Finally, after she'd finished one entire portion and sipped three glasses of bubbly, he asked, “Satisfied?”
“Yes. No more.” She shifted in his lap, and her thighs tightened around the arousal standing tall and proud and leaking moisture from skin friction. “My turn to feed you, and don't say ’uh-uh.'”
“Do I look like I'm objecting?” One brow winged up, and he mugged a leer, eyeing her breasts.
Destiny preened, reeling from the intensity of Linc's stare. Normally deft and nimble, she fumbled to get a perfect alignment of ham, muffin, and egg. She cupped a hand under the fork and lifted the pierced food to his lips. His mouth opened, and he sucked half the food off; the other half tumbled and fell. The slight graze between her thighs, the little fluttering above her pubic hair, didn't capture her attention. His glinting and darkening eyes drew her in; she drowned in them, straining to get oxygen into her lungs.
After he finished chewing, he asked, “Aren't you going to clean up your mess?”
Whaaat?
Recognition dawned. She slapped a palm to her forehead. “You did that on purpose.”
“Oh yeah,” he agreed, flashing her a bad-boy grin to die for. “I'm going to make a big mess.”
“But you're hungry,” she murmured. “Don't you want to eat first?”
“My stomach can wait. My dick, on the other hand…” He dipped his chin and sent her a scorching glance; his lips quirked.
“You have the wickedest smile I've ever seen,” she blurted. “It makes me so wet.”
“Fuck.” He groaned, cupped the back of her neck, and slanted his mouth over hers. Destiny matched his challenge, stroking his tongue, sucking the tip, testing a soft nip, and biting harder when he growled. The rumbled vibration and their mingling breaths tingled and sparked the insides of her cheek, the roof of her mouth.
When his dexterous fingers slid into her folds, Destiny broke the kiss, gasping for air. “Nuh-nuh-no. I have”—she drew in necessary oxygen and rushed out the rest of her words—“to clean up my mess.”
“Go for it, Destiny,” he growled.
But when she tried to get off his lap, he squeezed her closer. “Linc, let go.”
At the mulish line of his thinned lips, she figured he'd refuse, so she added, “I take pride in my work. When I clean up, I leave no stone unturned.”
A sinful, playful side she'd never known existed reared and bucked, and she widened her legs and cupped his testicles.
His grip on her waist loosened, and she slid to the floor, turned, and sank onto her knees. His heels dug into the wood, and the chair squeaked a protest when he shifted sideways.
Wishing she'd watched the Deep Throat DVD, Destiny rested her elbows on his thighs, her eyes locked on the juncture of his legs, on the sacs hanging near the curve of his ass. Her gaze trailed up to the taupe hair nestling his erection.
A tiny pearl of lemon hollandaise sauce cuddling one patch made her mouth water. Leaning over, she placed her palms on steel quadriceps and smiled when his breathing rasped. She sucked the drop into her mouth, brushed his penis with her cheek, and he grunted.
One ham scrap lying in a tuft thicker than the surrounding follicles captured her attention. She curled her fingers as lightly as possible around the base of his organ, brought the pulsing hardness to her lips, and hesitated when heat and wetness slicked her grip.
Lincoln groaned.
Her gaze flicked up.
Too tight? Was she doing something wrong? Eyes hooded, features contorted as if he endured terrible pain, Linc growled again. Sweat glistened on his forehead, beaded into wet specks when his pectorals rippled and shuddered with each jerky inhale.
“Linc?”
Normally he responded quicker than her mind formed a thought.
“Linc?”
He blinked a couple of times and stiffened before glancing to her.
“Hell.” When she met his intense stare directly, his belly hollowed and his breathing shortened into pants. “Tighter, Destiny. Have mercy on me.”
Oh.
Destiny gripped his penis, ducked under the sticky hardness, lapped the smoky morsel of ham into her mouth, and swallowed it whole.
Exultation and euphoria took control. She nuzzled his belly, feeling drunk on his musk and the spicy scent of the damp hair caressing his erection. Her tongue took on a mind of its own, flitting a frenzied, uncertain trail, tasting and sucking.
His arousal grew slicker, her fingers sliding up and down as she nosed from one sweet spot to another.
Linc's scorching hands kneaded her shoulders.
She laid one cheek on his groin, no longer uncertain and shy. Destiny shifted so both hands came into play. She held him tight at the base and traced his length with one fingernail, a light skipping and hopping, to the underside of the glistening head.
Her pussy creamed, and the moisture drizzled down her folds, the slight, slow trickle unbearable torture. Nipples, tight flaming points, scraped Linc's thigh as she lapped the place the taut sacs met their master.
His fingers dug into her back, and he rumbled something, the words incoherent, his voice strained.
She slanted her mouth, wrapped her lips around his thickness and glided up, then down, sliding tiny increments higher and higher until she encountered the ridge leading to the crown of his shaft.
Keeping one hand low, she circled the ridge, her fingers butterfly light.
Her lungs hitched as a droplet formed and tottered from the fascinating slit on the top. She suckled his satin flesh, growing tipsy from the taste, salty and oyster-like. Greed exploded within her, and she lowered her lips, savoring the way he throbbed in her mouth, licking a lazy circumference.
Her cheeks hollowed in protest when she tried to resist his pulling her off. She fought his withdrawal, and her mouth made a popping sound when his penis slipped from her lips.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse as he rolled a condom over his arousal.
The room spun, and she blinked, but his features refused to come into focus.
He stood, hooking his arms under her ass and lifting her so her thighs opened and straddled his erection. Two steps, then her back met the wall; he drove into her, and she dissolved, the orgasmic explosion blinding and shadowing her pupils.
“Look. At. Me.”
A two-second delay before his words penetrated the ecstatic, decadent fog of sheer pleasure. Heavy-as-lead eyelids didn't prevent her from meeting his piercing stare.
“Come,” he commanded.
Head lolling side to side, she protested, “Can't.”
He inserted his thumb between their joined bodies, holding it there as he pounded into her. Each thrust slammed and rubbed. Eyes glued to hers, he pinched, plunging deeper and deeper. Her walls jammed tight, clamping and squeezing, and she climaxed, drenching his cock.
“Yes! Yes!” His bellow reverberated through the cabin.
He edged his nose into the crook of her neck, lips brushing her skin, audible exhales feathering gooseflesh. Destiny studied him from the side—the whorls of his ear, the short hair above, the high cheekbones, the graze inflicted by the tree no longer red but more a soft pink.
A wave of tenderness crashed over her; she leaned over and kissed the spot where his thick neck curved into shoulders wider than any man she knew.
At once, he straightened and cupped her chin. “You okay? I kinda lost it there.”
“I'm floating on an ecstasy cloud.” She surrendered to what felt like a foolish, dizzy grin.
“Ecstasy cloud, huh? Right back atcha, woman.” He coasted the back of his hand across her cheek. “You are amazing. Ecstasy cloud…”
Linc chuckled. “Why do you think you aren't a writer?”
Her euphoria plummeted.
Chapter Six
Her whole face pinched, black brows crooking together, mouth pursing into a tight, hostile O.
Bad move.
Get to the bottom of this later.
Linc lifted onto his elbows, and the slight change in stance edged him deeper inside her pulsing heat.
“Jesus.” He couldn’t believe it—his dick was almost fricking ready again. Linc cupped her bottom and kneaded her cheeks. “What you do to me, woman.”
Unable to resist, he captured her bottom lip, nibbled, and then sucked the swollen plumpness, laving her softness with his tongue.
Oh yeah, ready again.
His stomach rumbled a complaint.
Destiny's taut features slackened. The tiny lines bracketing her narrowed eyes vanished when she glanced down at where their bodies joined. “You're hungry. You didn't really get to eat.”
A rosy hue skipped across her throat and face.
“No, I didn't. We didn't even get to sixty-nine,” Linc admitted. “You push me over the edge, Destiny.”
“Oh.” The breathy pant enchanted him. So shy and so bold all at once, his Destiny; his long-term plans did a three-sixty flip. Dusky rose darkened to cherry, and her lashes fluttered, casting little flickering shadows on her olive skin. He eyed her pink flamingo slippers, and something warm and thick slithered and banded his chest.
I'm up a creek. No way you're getting out of my orbit, Destiny Driven.
“I'll make you some more.” Her fingers trailed a delectable path along his bicep. “Hash browns this time and a couple of fried eggs.”
“Nah. No sense wasting the Benedict.”
Her eyes did a side sweep of the table, and she grimaced. “No way. It looks like someone threw up. It'll take me five minutes to make you breakfast.” One finger tapped his shoulder. “Let me down.”
“I'm supposed to take care of you, Baby Doll.” He bumped her forehead with his. “And I will.”
“Okay, I think we need to get a few things straight.” She wiggled her saucy butt, and his dick strutted its stuff, flexing inside her heat. “Let me down.”
Linc sighed but loosened his grip on her thighs. “Why do I have the distinct feeling we're about to have our first spat?”
She slid down his body, and his dick jutted when her sweet heat waned. Lincoln shifted so his feet bracketed her black-beaked slippers; he curled an arm around her waist, letting his fingers slide over her luscious ass and then through her sticky folds.
“No.” She grouched at him, squirming out of reach, sticking her backside in the air. “Stop that. We're going to start and finish an entire conversation—do you hear me?”
She took a step back; he linked his fingers at the small of her back.
“Number one, I don't need to be taken care of.”
Before she could go there, he cupped her breast and tweaked the nipple, which firmed and sprouted under his touch. “I know you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, Destiny.”
“Stop that.” She batted his hand away. “You're trying to distract me.”
Lips twitching, Linc hugged her from behind, drawing her fine bottom into his erection. “And failing miserably.”
“Where’s my T-shirt?” Arms akimbo, she did a one-eighty turn, breaking skin contact and peeling off first one flamingo, then the other. She squinted up at him and prodded his bicep with a finger. “It's gotten cold in here.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” He leered at her, raking her naked body from her bare feet to the top of her head, lingering at her inky pubic curls. Linc eyed her ass and let out an exaggerated sigh when her nipples pearled and tilted at the slightest graze of his thumbs.
The glower she cut him spoke of rising irritation. He shifted her so that her tight, high rump grazed his groin, and then he nuzzled her nape. “Did you find popcorn anywhere?”
“Do you have A.D.D.?” She spun around, glaring at him, fingers jamming her hip. “Popcorn?”
“To decorate the tree.” He traced the whorls of her ear with a finger.
“Tree?” She smacked him with both hands.
“You know. The tree I went out for.” Linc pointed to the Douglas fir he’d taken out his anger on. “That one.”
She spread her hands over her face and thunked her forehead on his chest. “I am going insane.”
Her head whipped up, pupils indistinguishable from the irises, eyes pulsing like the finest o
nyx. A deep frown knitted her brows, and she touched a finger to the cleft of his chin. “I don't know how long it takes the symptoms of a concussion to show.”
“I don't have a concussion.” He tucked a silken lock behind her ear. “I figure we have at least twenty-four hours before civilization intrudes. You've had the paratrooper in a pear tree, and I'm pretty sure there're no turtledoves in Alaska. So instead, we'll decorate the tree, and I'll carve you a couple birds to hang on it. Hence, the popcorn.”
Her nipples scraped his chest, but his carnal cravings had subsided, replaced by a tenderness that cascaded to a burning sweetness as her every thought flickered over her face.
“What? Why're you frowning?”
A tear formed, hung for a minute, then surfed the ridge of her cheekbone; she sniffed.
“No tears, please, Destiny.” He hugged her, smoothing a palm up and down her spine and leaned his forehead against hers. “What's wrong now?”
“I must be dreaming, because you're way too good to be real.” Twin trails of dampness smeared both cheeks. She snuffled and swiped at the moisture. “I never cry. And I'm not sentimental. And I don't believe in happy ever after.”
“That mean you don't want the tree?” Some shithead had shattered her little-girl innocence into fine shards. Linc made a mental note to have his buddy, Lucifer, do a complete background check on her. He captured her gaze by tipping her chin. “Destiny, do you want the tree or not? This is your call.”
She snagged her lower lip with two teeth, splayed both hands on his pecs, and studied his stubble for long seconds. “I'll fix you breakfast and find the popcorn.”
Linc forced himself to retreat, even though he wanted to preen and crow at the small victory.
“Deal.” He dropped a kiss on her nose, let his arms swing to his sides, and then scoured the cabin for her T-shirt.
He'd won this skirmish. One small step toward trust.
Spying the white cotton near the fridge, Linc took a long step, bent, and scrunched the material with one hand.
“Thank you.” She'd followed him and stood mere inches to the left of the fabric sprouting from his clasped fingers.
He glanced at her outstretched hand, brought the T-shirt to his nose, and inhaled. “Smells of you, all lavender and spice. Lift your arms, Baby Doll.”
