Handle with Care

by Hunting, Helena

  “Why not?”

  She starts to run her fingernails along my abs, which feels incredible, but it’s a seriously bad idea if she wants me to last more than thirty seconds. I’m on complete sensory overload. I probably should’ve let her put her mouth on me, and then I could’ve gone down on her again or made out for a while or used my damn fingers—at least I wouldn’t be worried about going off prematurely.

  I sit up in a rush, catching her off guard and flip us over so she’s under me.

  “Hey! I’m supposed to be riding you, not the other way around.”

  “Well, you don’t listen, so now you get to be ridden instead of doing the riding.”

  Her lips turn down in a pout. “I was enjoying my view.”

  “You’ll have to settle for this view instead.”

  She tries to shift under me. I bury my face against her neck, biting the sensitive skin there. “Stop, Wren. Just, please, give me a minute,” I murmur in her ear.

  She fingers the hair at the nape of my neck. “Lincoln?”

  I grab her wrists and pin her arms over her head, pushing up on my forearms so I can look at her face.

  “I’m not into being restrained,” she says.

  “And I’m not into restraints, but I need some time without additional sensory input.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Fucking hell, Wren. I’m at the edge. I’d really like to make a good impression here, and you’re making that exceedingly difficult.”

  “Oh,” she breathes, finally getting it.

  “Yeah, oh.” I take a deep breath. “I’d like to let go of your wrists, but I really need you to do me a solid here and keep your hands to yourself until I give you the green light, okay?”

  “Okay.” She bites her lip. It’s sweet and sexy, and I don’t think it matters how hard I try, this is probably going to be over a lot faster than I’d like.

  I release her hands slowly, because while I trust Wren not to bullshit me and tell me the truth when it comes to Moorehead Media, I don’t necessarily trust her not to put her hands all over me as soon as I set them free.

  Surprisingly, she doesn’t move at all, which for some reason jacks me up even more. There’s something about seeing her so willingly submissive that’s an intense turn-on. Probably because it’s rare.

  “Lincoln?”

  “Yeah, baby?” I stroke her cheek with a knuckle.

  “Baby?”

  “You like sweetheart or doll better?”

  She wrinkles her nose.

  “What about little bird?”

  “Oh my God, don’t.”

  “I could call you mon petit oiseau, if you prefer.”

  “Translating it into French doesn’t make it any better.”

  “Why don’t you come up with an approved list of pet names you think you can handle and we’ll go from there.”

  “Lincoln.”

  “Wren.”

  “Have you calmed down enough to start fucking me yet?”

  “Should we test things out?”

  She reaches behind her, looking for something to grab onto. It’s a solid wood headboard—Griffin’s taste, based on the dark stain and simple design—so all she’s met with is smooth, polished walnut.

  I drop my head and kiss her throat, moving up to her chin until I’m hovering over her mouth. I give her a test grind, to see how much I can handle.

  “Please do that again,” she moans.

  I can’t very well say no, so I comply. “How’s that feel?” I ask against her lips.

  “So good, Linc. I would really love it if you could keep doing that for like, an hour, maybe two. Totally doable, right?”

  “Oh totally, if by an hour or two you actually mean a maximum of three minutes.”

  “I’ll settle for three minutes as long as you make me come again.”

  I take her mouth and keep up the slow grind. Kissing her is enough of a distraction that I can keep going, which is a relief. I figure if I make it past the three-minute mark, I’m doing okay, so occasionally I break from her mouth and kiss her neck so I can check the time. I’m at five minutes now, but making it past ten would be a solid benchmark goal.

  “Stop looking at the clock,” Wren says against my temple.

  “I’m not looking at the clock.”

  “You are. That’s the third time. Stop worrying about how long you’re lasting, and start worrying about making me come.”

  I laugh into her shoulder, following it with a bite.

  Wren moans, and her fingers slide into my hair. “Do that again.”

  “Bite you?” I ask against her skin.

  “Yes, please.”

  I give her shoulder a gentle nibble.

  “Not like that, like this.” She twists her head, and her lips part against my neck. The wet press of her tongue comes first, followed by the firm scrape of teeth and a sweet sting that ends on a soothing suck.

  I mimic the same action.

  “Again, again,” she whimpers. “Oh God, I’m close.”

  I bite and kiss and suck her neck, worried that I’m going to leave marks, but she keeps murmuring not to stop, so I don’t until she comes.

  I push up on my forearms, so I can watch her unravel. Her lips are parted, eyes screwed shut, brow pulled down.

  “Wren,” I say, demanding her attention.

  Her eyes flutter open, and she groans as another wave hits her, but she fights to hold my gaze while I keep grinding against her. Her nails bite into my scalp, and she chants “oh God” until the orgasm finally wanes. Which means I don’t have to worry about lasting anymore.

  I hook an arm under her knee and draw her leg up. And because she’s already come—twice—I feel justified in pumping into her in horny desperation.

  That drowsy sated look on her face changes to wide-eyed shocked. Her mouth drops open. “Holy mother of—” She grabs onto my shoulders. “God, Linc, that’s, oh sh—” The sentence turns into a loud moan.

  Because she’s coming again.

  Because I’m awesome, or just really damn lucky. Which is great since I’m right there with her. There is zero in the way of coordination as I jerk and groan her name, but man, it feels amazing to come in and with another person, especially someone like Wren.

  I collapse on top of her and quickly roll to the side, keeping her leg thrown over mine so I can stay inside. I’m half tempted to try to keep going to see if I can get it up again, but I’m wearing a condom, and that’s not safe, so I rub her back and kiss along her throat, enjoying the come down as much as the act.

  Eventually I pull back. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” That sated peaceful look she was rocking a couple of minutes ago has already disappeared. In its place is wary uncertainty.

  I brush the damp hairs away from her forehead. “Overthinking things already?”

  Wren buries her face against my chest. “This really wasn’t part of my plan for tonight.”

  “No? You didn’t plan to come all over my face?”

  “Oh my God!” She pokes me in the ribs.

  I catch her wrist and kiss her knuckles. “What about my cock? No plans to come on that either? Not even between the tux fitting and reviewing the speech?”

  Her face flushes pink, or pinker than it originally was. “You can stop now.”

  “I’ll be honest, this is pretty much the opposite of how I thought my night was going to go. I figured I’d get wasted on my cousin’s expensive scotch and try to forget that my dad had a sex pad. Gotta say, this was way better and a lot less stressful. Actually, come to think of it, this is the most relaxed I’ve been since I landed in New York.” I drag a finger down her spine. “So, I think you should probably stay the night, and we can perform additional stress-relieving activities once I’ve had enough time to recover and then again in the morning. Maybe we should add them to your special duties as assigned.”

  A furrow appears between Wren’s brows, and her mouth turns down at the corners. “That makes it sound l
ike I’m getting paid to have sex with you.”

  “It’s more like you’re getting paid to have orgasms.”

  Her eyes flare, and she pushes on my chest. “Oh my God. This was probably a really bad idea.”

  I wrap an arm around her to prevent her from escaping. “This—” I motion between us. “You and me? We were an inevitability. Sooner or later, one of us was going to cave. At least we managed to keep it together and not end up screwing in the copy room, or my office, because Lord knows there’s a really damn good chance that Marjorie would’ve picked that exact moment to ask if I wanted my five millionth coffee of the day.”

  She opens her mouth, possibly to argue, but then clamps it shut again.

  I grin. “See? You know I’m right.”

  “I was actually going to comment on how much you’d fleshed out that scenario in your head.”

  “I’ve been having fantasies about finding out whether or not the panty-less-ness was really an accident.”

  “As if I would willingly walk around pantiless with Armstrong around.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry too much about my brother. He knows better than to touch my things.” I bite back a smile and wait.

  Her eyebrows shoot up, and she’s back to pushing on my chest. “Your things?”

  “I’m playing with you, Wren. You’re not a thing, or anyone’s personal possession, but there’s also no way Armstrong would even consider laying a hand on you if he knows we’re involved. He might screw with a lot of people, but he won’t ever screw with me.”

  “I don’t think people can know about this, Lincoln. How will it look?”

  “I don’t cut your paychecks. You don’t work for me, so I don’t see how any of that will actually matter.”

  “What about the optics?”

  “Can you stop doing your job for thirty seconds and enjoy the afterglow with me for a while?”

  She sighs, but some of the tension in her body eases. “We need to figure out how to handle this. We need to be professional at work. We can’t actually have a scenario where Marjorie walks into your office and finds me bent over your desk, Linc.”

  “We could do that on a Saturday, you know, to avoid Marjorie, or better yet, there’s a home office here and the windows overlook the city. We could pretend we’re in the office.” I’m actually getting excited about the prospect.

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I’m horny, and I’ve been deprived for a long time, Wren. I also haven’t had mind-blowing sex in an even longer time, like, probably the better part of half a decade, so I’m not inclined to give it up very easily, and I’d also like to indulge as much as possible. But I get what you’re saying, so if we need to keep it professional in the office, I’m willing to give it a try.”

  “I think you’re going to have to do better than try, Linc. Do you honestly think your mother will be okay with us sleeping together?”

  “Is there anything in your contract that says you can’t?”

  “Uh, well … no.”

  “Then technically she can’t have a problem with it. Besides, she allowed my d-bag of a brother to bone pretty much every woman on staff, and she had to have known my father had a mistress, or more than one. She really doesn’t get to have any kind of opinion on who I sleep with.”

  “But she pays me—”

  “To keep my ass in line and make sure I look good on social media. Come on, Wren. Let’s be real here. We spend hours upon hours together. You’ve seen me in nothing but briefs multiple times at this point. Half the time you’re here first thing in the morning, putting my outfits together to make sure I’m not dressed in jeans. People who are attracted to each other can’t spend as much time together as we do and not give in to the draw. If anything, it makes sense that we’d end up in bed.”

  She seems shocked. “Have you been plotting this?”

  “Plotting is my brother’s area of expertise, not mine. Have I pushed a little? Sure. Have I orchestrated situations in which I’d be mostly naked and you’d be forced to pretend you’re not checking out the goods? Definitely. Can’t blame me for creating opportunities where I see them.”

  I skim her cheek with my fingers and smile when she shivers. “You and I both know there’s been an attraction from day one. There’s no reason to fight it now that we’ve acknowledged and acted on it, is there? I don’t see any reason not to enjoy each other if that’s what we want to do. We’re adults, making adult decisions, doing adult things that no one needs to know about. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to hide, unless of course we decide office sex is a go, but that’s why doors have locks.”

  “While I agree there’s technically nothing to hide, I think we need to be smart about how we approach this, especially since your mother cuts my paychecks, and it’s my job to make you look good, not create gossip. We have this huge event tomorrow night; we don’t need to add more complications.”

  It’s my turn to frown. “Dammit, you’re right, which is incredibly annoying.”

  She smiles. “So we keep this between us.”

  “Fine. But you’re staying the night, and we’re having pre-work sex in the morning, so I can make it through the day without embarrassing myself with uncontrollable, spontaneous hard-ons.”

  CHAPTER 15

  TOUCHY, TOUCHY

  WREN

  Great sex has an incredible, stress-relieving effect. It also throws all good decision-making skills and logic right out the window. I wake up the next morning disoriented.

  Until I feel the hard-on pressing against my butt cheek and the rough scrape of stubble across my shoulder.

  “I wouldn’t be opposed to waking up like this more often,” Linc rasps, lips at my neck.

  I shiver at his soft hum.

  “You know what’s fantastic?”

  “What’s that?” My voice is just as hoarse as his, probably on account of all the loud moaning I did last night, and very, very early this morning.

  “We don’t have to be in the office until lunch.”

  “You have a meeting this morning,” I remind him. “And we have the event tonight. You still have to practice your speech.”

  “I rescheduled the meeting, so now we have all morning to practice my speech.”

  I roll over so I’m facing him, and his smile slowly dissolves as his eyes move over my face. His hand comes up, and I have to wonder if my mascara is smeared all over the underside of my eyes like I plan to audition for the role of a raccoon.

  He rubs at my bottom lip. “How is this stuff still on?”

  “I told you it doesn’t come off.”

  “What’s in it that it stays on this long? Is it even safe to put on your skin?”

  “Why are you so obsessed with my lipstick?”

  “Because it’s the bane of my goddamn existence.” At my raised eyebrow, he continues. “You have this incredible face, and these gorgeous full lips, and you wear this lipstick that’s just … a huge distraction. And it never comes off.”

  His irritation makes me smile. “Would you like me to take it off?”

  “Yes.”

  I push on his chest. “You’ll have to let me up if you want me to do that. I have remover in my purse.”

  “You stay right here. I’ll get your purse.” He drops a quick peck on my lips and rolls off me. Popping to his feet, he disappears from the bedroom and returns less than a minute later with my purse in his hands. He’s gloriously naked, all those muscles flexing deliciously as he climbs back up onto the mattress and straddles my hips. He’s also fully hard.

  I pat the head and smirk. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to point?”

  “He’s saying hi.” He sets my purse between my breasts and gives them a squeeze. “Here you go.”

  I flip it open and root around for the remover and a tissue.

  Linc grabs both from me. “What do I have to do?”

  “Put that on my lips like gloss and use the tissue to wipe it off.”


  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  He unscrews the cap and carefully applies the gloss. It’s actually quite entertaining since he’s so focused on the task. His tongue peeks out from between his lips as he drags the tissue gently across mine. He inspects the pinky-red smear, then goes back and does it a few more times before he’s satisfied. He tosses the tissue on the floor and plants his fists on his hips. It’s actually pretty comical.

  “You need to stop wearing that lipstick.”

  “Okay,” I say, not because I plan to actually stop, but because I don’t see the point of arguing with him when he’s hard and naked, and being agreeable is likely going to get me what I want a lot faster. Which is him inside me.

  His brow furrows. “Okay?”

  “Sure. No more lipstick.” I run my palms up the outside of his muscular thighs until I’m framing his erection.

  “You’re not even going to ask why?”

  “Would you like me to ask why?”

  “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

  I wrap both hands around his shaft and squeeze. “Clearly that’s a turn-on for you. Would you like to fuck my mouth, now that it’s naked like the rest of me?”

  Lincoln drops the lipstick conversation after that, and we spend the next two hours practicing naked stress-relieving activities. Best pre-event pampering ever.

  * * *

  Our awesome morning of sex takes a nosedive into Shitsville when I check my voicemails and realize I never got back to Gwendolyn regarding Lincoln’s plus-one. “Dammit.”

  “What’s the problem?” he asks as he sips his third coffee so far today.

  “You’re supposed to have a date tonight. Your mother wants to know who you’re taking and whether they’ve been vetted.”

  Lincoln makes a face. “You’re my date.”

  I give him a look. “I can’t be your date.”

  “Why not? Are you going with someone?” His expression darkens. “You need to cancel that now. You’re not going with anyone other than me.”

  I prop a fist on my hip. “Want to try that again without sounding like a possessive douche?”

  He runs a hand through his hair and blows out a breath. “Wren, could you please cancel your date for the event tonight so I don’t end up all over social media for punching out a stranger?”