Page 50 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

CELESTE

The loss of summer hit me harder than ever before.

Though the season was home to my birthday and guaranteed escape from the pressures of school, the long, warm days never settled well on my skin.

I preferred the cold, gentle urge of winter.

Even the crisp air of fall. But this summer had claimed my favorite beginning.

It was where I fell for Lincoln Hill. When I discovered all the things I believed would keep me trapped were actually the keys to setting me free.

"Here?" Lincoln whispered, words mixing with the singing crickets, fingers holding onto the day's heat and painting it on my skin.

Nights were colder, making the treehouse less appealing to be in. But I could stretch out its use with another body's warmth. Lincoln was a willing tribute.

"Here." I nodded, slipping my hand underneath his shirt. My fingers played with the line of hair under his belly button, teasing him with chaste brushes above his belt.

We'd spent the beginning of the semester as entangled as we could. I was fascinated with exploration. Testing my bounds, learning my desires, satisfying his.

"You're supposed to be studying," he said, trying his best to be the responsible one.

Lincoln stuck to his plan with rigid determination.

He'd also committed to developing coping skills in managing his ADHD.

Not every day was a winner—a complex reality he lamented over and was struggling to get used to after years of avoidance.

Most days were full of effort. And that was more than enough.

"I didn't come here," he said between kisses. "To distract you."

"Well, I invited you here to distract," I whispered against his mouth. "So where does that leave us?"

"Leaves me being used." He chuckled when I frowned in disapproval. "Use me as much as you want. I don't mind being here for just that."

"Just what?" I teased.

"Everything," he promised and cupped my head, pulling me to his mouth again.

The weight of the new semester melted to the wayside. I forgot about scheduling my new mentor appointment, prepping for my audition for the school's symphony, and the phone call I'd been waiting for about my mentorship application.

I hadn't gotten to talk to Ophelia while she was in town.

Rumor had it, she'd been front and center with a smile on her face the entire show.

But she'd disappeared after, and it'd been radio silence since.

I'd gone through the five stages of grief, settling into acceptance when I decided to register for the fall semester with just six credits and a new job to help pay for them.

It wasn't the dream, but it was a step in the right direction. An independent direction.

"I've been thinking," I confessed when Lincoln gave me a break and kissed down my neck so I could breathe.

"Mm," he asked, focusing on unbuttoning my dress.

"There's this…" I sighed when he kissed my nipples through my thin bralette. Lincoln parted his mouth, teasing the swollen tip with his tongue.

"Shop not far from campus," I managed. The need to address the ache between my legs made my thought-process foggy. I wasn’t sure how people who experienced this for years and years managed.

"The Field," I said, struggling to get air in as Lincoln took turns circling his tongue around my nipples.

He pulled away from me, meeting my gaze with a curious smile. "The sex shop?"

My cheeks burned, but I nodded. I'm close enough to him now to understand I may never completely shed shyness. Still, I would always have the courage to push through it in favor of connecting with him.

"I've never been to one," I said.

"Oh, yeah?" He leaned down to give my breasts a couple more kisses before directing his full attention to me. "You want me to buy you a toy, beautiful?"

I nodded, my clit swollen with the need for his attention as he stared down at me with that dark, knowing look.

"I'll buy you anything you want. But would you play with them in front of me?" he asked, fingers pulling my panties to the side. "Let me watch you?"

"I want to. I want to do a lot of things." I reached for him. Lincoln pulled up, so I only made contact with his chest. His fingers tease my entrance, not going further, not paying any mind to my clit.

"Hold on," he said. "I want to hear what else you want to do."

I arched for him. "I'll tell you."

"Before I touch you," he said. "I can't have you getting all quiet on me again."

My skin was aflame with longing. I had brought up wanting different things in our sex life. And I had gotten too afraid to go into detail whenever I climaxed, and the safety haze of desire washed away in place of severe self-consciousness.

After being with Lincoln, the floodgates had opened, and I was what Naomi would refer to as a beginner-level kinky. I wanted Lincoln's hand on my neck when I finished. His cum on my clit. His mouth on me while he cleaned it up.

"It's normal to want to try stuff," Naomi had insisted. I hadn't told her the details, but I had confessed my shame because I'd been bursting with it and had no idea where to put that energy. "Have fun with your sexuality. You have a partner who's safe and wants your pleasure. Have fun."

Lincoln leaned down, placing the lightest of kisses on my clit. I sighed, arching into the cold air.

"Why did you do that if you're not going to continue?" I complained.

"A little incentive never hurt anyone," he teased.

I huffed but gave in. "I want to try those remote-control vibrators."

"The ones where I can change the pace?"

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek, nervous about continuing.

"Go on." Lincoln offered a thumb on my clit, circling me slowly. I closed my eyes, swallowing a moan so I could continue speaking.

"Clamps, maybe," I murmured.

"You'd look so beautiful with those on," he agreed and leaned in to tease my nipples by gently raking his teeth over them.

"I want to be…on top…" I swallowed, gathered the last bit of courage. "Inside of you."

Lincoln met my gaze, eyes unreadable but hand speaking volumes. He slipped two fingers inside and his thumb firmer as he massaged my clit.

"Say that again?" he asked. "And look at me while you do it."

"I…Lincoln…” I couldn't. It's too new and intimate.

"Celeste," his voice had as much fire in it as my body did while fantasizing about this. "I'm into it. This. But, if you want to do it, I need you to look at me while you say it. Because that's what I want."

I forced myself to meet his gaze. The cold of the night was no more, burned away by my confession and his insistence I stand on it.

"Lincoln…" I released a soft moan when he added a third finger, more incentive, more longing.

"I'll keep going, but I won't let you come," he promised.

"You could never."

He smiled. "Want to find out?"

From my trembling thighs and soaked core, I most definitely couldn't afford to test him. Here was the thing about Lincoln: when he put his mind to something, nothing could hold him back.

"I want to buy a strap-on," I said, breathing slowly to calm my nerves. "I want to be on top and make you come."

"Fuck, Celeste." He groaned and pulled his fingers out, replacing them with his mouth. I rocked my hips, matching his rhythm and meeting his gaze.

"Have you ever done that?" I asked through labored breath. "Has anyone made you finish like that?"

He shook his head, not parting from me once. I smiled, thrilled to be the first.

"And you want it?" I asked to be sure. "You said you want me to do it, right?"

Lincoln closed his eyes, moaning into me as he nodded. My orgasm was on the horizon. I weaved my fingers through his hair, riding the high of the present stimulation and our (now shared) fantasy ahead.

"Celeste," Lincoln repeated when he finally pulled away, successful at giving me two climaxes.

"Come here." I undid his belt.

He reached for his backpack, pulling out a condom.

"On top," he requested, lying on his back and holding my hips firmly as I climbed on.

I ground, rocked, and used my knees to get every bout of motion I could in.

Lincoln stared up at me, eyes half closed and thumb lazily circling my clit.

"You're my world, you know that? Everything that matters is all wrapped in one.

So, I'm going to need you to always remember that, especially when every part of you is wrapped in every part of me.

Fucking claim me, Celeste. Tell me what you want to do, and it will be done.

From the moment I met you, it was done. I was meant to be yours. "

"I know," I whispered, my hips making small, lingering circles. My acceptance of my power and his desire had us both seeing stars. I wouldn't deny what I did to him no more than I'd deny what he did for me.

We were a collective of heavy breathing, drumming hearts, and delicate satisfaction. Lincoln pulled me into his chest, kissing me gently as we lowered back down to earth, where the crickets were still singing and the stars were taking turns on the center stage.

The ringing of a phone interrupted our slow descent back to our bodies. Lincoln groaned when I pulled away to check my screen.

"Just a second longer," he asked, his hands pulling my hair off my neck so he could playfully bite me.

"It's…someone from New York," I whispered, stunned.

Lincoln pulled himself out of the sleepy world of post-sex. He sat up, holding me steady against his body so I wouldn't fall, as he reached for a blanket to cover me. He understood if I was going to talk to someone, even if it was on the phone, I’d want to be semi-decent.

"Answer it," he urged.

"New York," I repeated, as if that'd change anything.

"Celeste, answer it." He pushed the phone up to my ear.

I laughed, humorlessly, and swiped to accept the call. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Celeste Able?"

I knew that voice like the back of my hand. The slow, confident cadence. High octave. Tell-tale smile.

"Hello?" she asked, confused by my pause.

Lincoln hugged me, trying to offer strength and support.

"Y-yes, this is—I'm Celeste," I confirmed while grinning widely at Lincoln. “Able. Hi. Hey.”

"Hi." She laughed at the evident excitement in my voice. "I'm Ophelia Lawrence. You applied for a mentorship with me a few months back. And I was lucky enough to catch your project at the local playhouse."

"I…yes, you're…my hero," I said, too in awe to cringe at myself just yet.

She laughed again. "I was calling to inquire if you were still interested in the position. Usually, we go to interviews next, but I've seen enough of your work to know it'd be a waste of the other candidates' time. I think we should work together. How about you?"

I had a million and one things to say. It's a new problem: figuring out which idea to share first. Lincoln nodded, encouraging me to speak, to share, to take up space, to leap. And I did because I knew it’d be okay. He’d be there to catch me if it wasn’t.

"I would love to work with you," I said.

"You don't know how excited that makes me," she said, sounding so genuine and honored. Ophelia Lawrence was honored to work with me. "I'll send you a follow-up email, and we'll coordinate an official meeting. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect."

We said our goodbyes, and I barely remembered hanging up the phone. I found myself in Lincoln's embrace, him squeezing me tight.

"Lincoln?" I asked, dazed. "Did I just talk to Ophelia Lawrence? Did she invite me to work with her?"

He pulled away to look at me, his smile so bright it outshone the moon and stars. "You did. She didn't just invite you, beautiful. She asked you. Wanted you to say yes."

"So, it was real." My eyes got misty, and I held onto his shoulders to steady myself.

"How does it feel?" he asked, brushing tears off my cheeks. "To know your work matters? Your hero loves it."

I laughed and shook my head. "Weirdly enough…not as good as the moment I saw you in the theatre with those flowers and that camera."

His brow furrowed, confused.

"That was the moment I knew I'd never have to wonder if my quiet would continue to hinder me from belonging,” I told him. "The moment I knew, despite my quiet, I'd always have someone around, ready and willing to listen."

Lincoln smiled, brushing a few stray coils out of my face. "I didn't mind the wait, but damn, I'm glad we finally made it here."

I laughed, nodding in agreement. "Here's the best place I've ever been."