Page 76 of Carry On

NASH

Lincoln’shandsroamedovermy sides and stomach as he licked, nipped, and kissed the column of my neck. There was a moment where the reality of change hit me—the realization of how he’d changed me. I could feel it in how my body had filled out and the way there was more for him to grab onto. He liked it from how he pawed at me, his fingers digging into my skin.

Does he?the voice asked, ebbing its way to the surface.

“Fuck me, Linc,” I said, rotating slightly into him. His mouth caught mine, and I bit his lower lip. He groaned, and his hips rocked hard against my ass. Shit, being fucked wasn’t usually my kind of thing, but this man had me all sorts of wound up, fucked in the head, and frantic to feel something. “Use me to make yourself come.”

He wasted no time in lubing his dick and swiping it down my crease. When he started to prep me, which probably was a smart idea, I shook my head.

“Just fuck me, Lincoln,” I insisted. I wanted to be fucked and to forget. I needed the bite of pain to get me out of my head.

Lincoln’s fingers dug into my hips as the crown of his dick pressed against that tight ring of muscles. I groaned at the burn that came with my ass stretching to accommodate his size. Lincoln wasn’t small by any means,and I felt every inch of him as he pushed inside me. The way he filled me sent heat skating down my spine and made my dick throb all over again.

Jesus fuck, how was I this hard all over again? Lincoln did something to me. Something indescribable. Something catastrophic.

His lips dusted along my shoulder as he remained still, seated to the hilt in me. Fuck letting me get comfortable, I was ready to combust if he didn’t start moving.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped, my fingers straining against the window. He didn’t need to be told twice.

His fingers curled around my neck to steady himself as his hips snapped hard against my ass. I relished in the lack of air and let the sensation make me fly. The bite of pain faded into euphoria—the kind that had my dick leaking against the glass.

Skin slapping on skin, moaning, grunting, panting. We devolved into a mess of sweat and need, all while on display for his entire neighborhood to enjoy. His pace grew uneven and frantic, and I recognized how close he was.

“Hand on your cock, Lucky,” Lincoln growled in my ear. “Wash the window in cum, and let them see how much you like putting on a show.”

“Fucking hell,” I rasped, my hand falling to my dick. I was right there with him, riled up and ready to come. He grunted in agreement behind me. My pace matched his—hot, fast, and frenzied—until he was dragging me down on his length, his cock swelling and jerking inside me. I fell apart with him, cum splattering on the glass.

Lincoln’s head fell to my shoulder, and his hot breath fanned across my sweat-slicked skin. The sensation made me shiver.

“Fuck, that wasgood,” he said softly. Reaching over my shoulder, I anchored a hand in his hair to keep him close for a little longer.

“Your neighbors are going to hate us,” I huffed out. Us with our freaky window escapades and cum shots. Oh well.

“Probably,” Lincoln replied. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he walked me back from the window, clinging to me and a little unsteady. “Get in the shower, Nash. I’m not done with you yet.”

CHAPTER 54

LINCOLN

Iwasneverdrinkingagain.Not that much. My head throbbed, my body ached, and my mouth was dry. The alarm blared painfully in my ears, and I grabbed a pillow, smashing it over my face. I wanted it to help, but it did nothing to muffle the sound.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

“Good morning, pookie.” While I liked Nash, his voice wasn’t one I wanted. Not at that moment. I let out some grumpy, borderline feral sound in response. “Is that to me calling you pookie, or to me waking you up?”

“Yes,” I grumped. ”I’m never drinking again.”

“Mmm,” he hummed rather judgmentally, “I highly doubt that, nugget.”

“No,” I retorted. Fuck no. This man wasn’t calling me nugget. Not in the fucking least.

“Do you remember last night?” Nash asked. I peeked out from under the pillow in time to catch the pensive expression on his face. Almost worried-like. Considering my history, I couldn’t blame him.

A deep appreciation for how he cared filled me. He didn’t have to care, but he did.

“Yup,” I replied. “Did we wash the window?”

“After the shower, you passed out, and I washed the window and the couch,” he said. “And I picked up your buttons.”