Page 14

Isabel

The soft cloth over my eyes is enough to heighten every other sense, and my heart hammers like it wants to leap from my chest. Without my sight, I’m hyperaware of everything else: the whisper of fabric as Lincoln shifts his position, the rustle of the sofa cushions, the slow, steady hum of the toy he’s guiding over my bare legs. Every brush of vibration against my skin sends a fresh spark of awareness through me—an electric tingle that leaves my breath hitching.

I don’t know which is more unnerving: that I can’t see him, or that I can hear his every exhale, every sharp breath that suggests he’s as affected by this as I am. It’s a strange kind of intimacy, the blindfold making me feel both vulnerable and strangely liberated all at once. With my vision gone, there’s nothing to distract me from the sensation of the toy—or from the press of Lincoln’s fingertips stabilizing my ankle when I shift.

My pulse thuds in my ears as he guides the gentle vibration in a slow path up the length of my calf. The swirl of air from the toy’s movement grazes the sensitive skin at the back of my knee, and I let out a small, involuntary gasp. Lincoln’s reaction is immediate: I hear him inhale sharply, like he didn’t expect such a strong response, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he carefully nudges the toy higher, a fraction of an inch at a time, building anticipation with every tiny shift.

A rush of want pools low in my belly, spreading outward with each pass. My fingers curl into the sofa cushion at my sides, searching for some anchor—anything to keep me from floating off into the swirl of new sensations. The tension is almost unbearable, the quiet hum of the vibrator like a heartbeat in the room. I can barely hang on. It’s all too powerful. My own breaths feel too loud, mixing with his in a chorus of ragged exhales that tell me I’m not the only one affected.

I wish I could see his face. There’s something oddly thrilling about knowing how he looks at me—knowing that he might be watching my every twitch and subtle shift. Is there a hunger in his eyes? That same longing burning in my chest? His breathing suggests yes, and the possibility makes my pulse spike.

A low rumble of sound escapes Lincoln’s throat—almost a soft, startled groan. I can’t see him, but the vibration in the air between us is unmistakable. He’s turned on. Just the thought of him struggling to stay composed while teasing me is a heady realization. It emboldens me enough to let out a breathy moan of my own when he presses the toy gently against the back of my knee, lingering for a beat longer than before.

My head tips back, resting on the arm of the sofa, and I feel my lips part, searching for air. The sensations are strong yet controlled—he’s keeping the setting low, but the softness of the contact, coupled with the slow build of tension, is almost more overwhelming than anything forceful. My toes curl at the abrupt flare of warmth racing along my nerves, and I briefly consider how much more I can take.

Lincoln must sense the shift in my body. He moves again, sliding the toy along the curve of my inner thigh, and my breath shudders out in a trembling exhale. The blindfold makes every second stretch out, makes every vibration feel sharper, more potent. In the stillness between the toy’s hum and his shallow breathing, my own heartbeat resounds like thunder in my ears.

The realization that we’re crossing a line—maybe even sprinting past it—is there, lingering in the back of my mind. But right now, it’s distant, a dull echo compared to the immediate reality of Lincoln’s careful, deliberate touch. With each brush of the toy, he coaxes a whimper or sigh from me, and in response, I hear him inhale, a quick, tight sound betraying his own strain.

The sofa creaks faintly as he shifts his weight, and suddenly I feel the warmth of his body closer to mine—his thigh maybe inches from my own. My skin tingles, uncertain whether to crave that extra inch of contact or fear it, but there’s no question about my desire: I’m drawn to him, to the heat he radiates, to the tension vibrating between us that’s so palpable I almost swear I can taste it.

A small voice in the back of my head reminds me that we’re doing this for a cover, for an act. But as Lincoln drags the toy another tantalizing inch up my leg, I know the truth: this goes beyond any mission. This is raw, unfiltered attraction, pulsing between us in each shaky breath and hitch of movement.

My eyes stay hidden behind the blindfold, but my other senses paint a vivid picture: the soft scratch of his shirt against the sofa’s upholstery, the ragged exhale that tells me he’s fighting his own mounting need, the hum of the toy that ties us both to this moment. With every passing heartbeat, I’m more certain that this isn’t just for show.

His voice breaks through the silence, low and slightly rough. “Isabel…” It’s all he says, barely more than a whisper, but it sends a ripple of need along my spine. The unspoken question— Are you okay? Do you want me to stop? —hangs in the air.

He pushes the toy closer to my center, a tiny gasp echoing past my lips. “Lincoln,” I whisper.

He’s close, so close I can feel his hot breath against my cheek. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want you to stop.” And I don’t. Not even a little bit. I didn’t realize how starved for an orgasm I’ve been.

It’s been ages since I’ve even thought about anything sexual. He pushes the toy against my center, lining it with my clit, and he pushes my legs apart with his other hand.

“Let me see you get off, Isabel.”

Just his words alone have me nearly coming undone, but instead of focusing on the pulsing between my legs, I focus on his uneven breaths. This is affecting him.

I smile as he flicks the vibrator’s settings. The toy buzzes faster, the sensations jolting through my system. “Oh god,” I cry out as he pushes it harder against my clit. I want to call out his name, but I’m not sure if that’s pushing another boundary. How far past that line have we gone?

“If I use this toy on you in the club are you going to come for me like a good girl?”

I nod, biting my lower lip. “Yes, Lincoln… ah, yes.” My body’s so close to crashing over the threshold. Every beat of my heart brings me one step closer to unraveling. “Oh, yes.” I can’t stop moaning.

“I love how vocal you are.” He inches closer, his scent wafting up my nose. “Are you going to be this vocal with an entire club watching you?”

That question has me stumped, but I don’t have much time to put any real thought into it because my body’s climbing higher and higher. I wish I was naked. I wish he was the one touching me along with the vibrator. I wish I could fucking see him right now. I’m half-tempted to rip this— I do it. I rip the damn blindfold off, and Lincoln’s eyes blaze into mine. Dark and haunted.

He’s so sexy I can barely stand it.

A slow smile spreads across his lips as he flicks the settings one last time, making the vibrator buzz out of control. “You like watching me get you off?”

“Yes,” I cry out. “I’m so close.”

“Do it for me. Show me how you’ll come for me at the sex club with others watching you. Will you smile at them? Will you make me want to murder every mother fucker who even looks your way?”

The thought of his jealousy does something to me. It has every nerve ending in my body sparking with heat. I’m ready to combust. “Yes, oh, Lincoln. Yes.”

He rests his forehead against mine, our hot breaths mingling together. “I will hunt every fucker who even watches you come, and end their life.” His breath matches mine as he moves the vibrator in rhythm to my thrusting.

“You can’t,” I remind him, my eyelids slamming shut as stars explode behind them. “You can’t,” I moan out, long and hard.

He traces one finger over my bottom lip. “You’re mine, Isabel. And everyone in that club needs to know it.”

That’s all it takes. My orgasm slams through me like a sudden storm surge, an unstoppable torrent of sensation that leaves my body trembling and my mind utterly overwhelmed. My breathing is ragged as I try to catch it. God. I’ve never felt anything so passionate in all my life.

I sense the moment Lincoln eases off the pressure, the toy drifting away, leaving my clit tingling and sensitive. My head spins with the rush of it all. Before I can form a coherent thought, he gently lifts his forehead from mine.

Lincoln’s gaze locks onto mine—smoldering, questioning, guarded. The thin line of his lips doesn’t conceal the desire burning there, but there’s concern too, warring with the desire in his expression. For a stretch of heartbeats, neither of us speaks.

In the hush, I force down a gulp of air. My voice comes out unsteady. “I… I’m, uh...”

He exhales in relief, setting the toy aside. “You okay?”

I nod, though the tension in my body hasn’t faded. My legs still hum with residual awareness, and my pulse thunders like I’ve sprinted a marathon. “Yeah. Just… wow .”

A hint of a smile ghosts his lips, tension rippling across his broad shoulders. “Yeah,” he echoes, voice raw. And I can tell he’s feeling it too.

I tug the blindfold the rest of the way off, letting it fall to my lap. My gaze darts away from him, half-embarrassed by the intensity of what we just shared. But his voice pulls me back.

“We’re in this together, right?” he murmurs.

My heart clenches at the vulnerability in his tone. I meet his eyes again, the air between us crackling with unspoken truths. “Right,” I whisper, knowing full well we’ve just crossed into territory neither of us expected.