Three Rings (The Fairytail Saga) (30 page)

And she was also thrown, because he was surpassing her own expectations of him. If he could do this with just the tip of his tongue then…. ? She shivered again as another wave of spasming pleasure radiated through her. He was on his knees, yes, but he had the control, and once they were married, he’d be as close to her equal as anyone could ever be. Would he still love her, when he didn’t have to chase her anymore? How many flaws had he noticed under the illumination of unforgiving midday sun?

‘Hmmm…’ Lincoln sighed, his breath buffeted against her where his mouth didn’t reach and Ivyanne’s abdominals contracted violently, almost doubling her at the waist. She caught herself on his shoulders and gasped as he circled her, over and over again, increasing his suction, as though he intended to draw the pleasure right out of her body in that one place. Everything became foggy. Blood pounded in her head. When his hands slid between her and the trunk of the coconut tree and clasped her backside with long, slender fingers, pulling her closer, drinking her in, she gasped. She’d never known concentrated pleasure quite like this. It was so carnal, so primal and intimate. The pulsations between her legs grew brutal, almost too much to take, and she suspected that he was using more strength than she was aware of to keep her from collapsing onto the grass.

‘Lincoln...oh god Lincoln!’ The words bubbled over her lips in a nonsensical fashion. Ivyanne didn’t even know what she was trying to convey. She attempted to control the volume of her vocal affirmations, a tiny part of her still aware that the fisherman was within earshot given the peacefulness of the island, but a larger part of her just didn’t care. If anyone tried to interrupt them, she’d kill them anyway and let her conscience deal with it after.

Lincoln’s tongue swirled again, penetrating her once more. The intensity of the pleasure grew and grew and became more familiar to her, easier to grip onto. She let her eyes open and stared dazedly at the back of Lincoln’s shoulders and then down to the bare underside of his feet, aware that he was groaning too.

Then, the ultimate contraction came-sooner then she had expected. Ivyanne sucked in a breath and flung herself back against the tree so hard that she knew she’d be bruised in the morning. She’d gone from climbing to falling in the space between two heartbeats, and there was no chance of holding in the wail of ecstasy that escaped her mouth. She was lost, and she was going to give them away. Some leader she was!

But then Lincoln was standing, his hot, hard, lean body against hers, pinning her to the tree, his wide palm covering her mouth, muffling her cries.

‘Yes!’ He rasped, as his other hand took the place of his tongue, rubbing every pulse from her trembling flesh with two deft fingertips, demanding more. ‘Keep coming Ivyanne. I fucking need this.’ His teeth tugged at her lower lip, his tongue raking against hers. ‘God. I’ve never been so hard!’

Ivyanne’s eyes popped open, and she found herself looking into the wildest, most wicked brown eyes she’d even encountered. She shuddered as that look brought her over the hilt of her climax, toes curling in the sandy grass, thighs tight, her sex clenching and releasing with quick successive spasms.

‘Link…!’ She mewled into his palm, squeezing her thighs against his ribs. ‘Mmm!!’

‘Ugh..’ Lincoln slipped his finger all the way inside her and she rocked against it, the focal point of her torment shifting, and his hand slid slowly down her lips, to the base of her throat. He seemed to be overcome himself. ‘
My
fiancee…’

‘Yes…’ She panted again, rolling her hips against his. The pulsations were dwindling now, though resonating deeper within her, and though she had so much to say, she couldn’t make her mouth form words. She inhaled, then bent her head into his shoulder, wanting to sob again, but not sure why. She was overwhelmed-physically, mentally and emotionally-and yet there was a thrill coursing through her, fueled by the look on Lincoln’s beautiful face which stayed with her even when her eyes were closed against his skin. She breathed him in and the urge to sob came again. How had his scent not changed in twelve years? How was it possible to love him this much, when her feelings, and grief, for Tristan had been so strong?

‘I love you,’ she finally managed to mumble into his neck, feeling weakened as the tail end of her orgasm faded to a deep, inner hum. ‘And I’m so glad you didn’t do that to me a decade ago.’

Lincoln’s finger slipped under her chin and he tilted her face up. He was frowning slightly. ‘You didn’t like it? It seemed-’

‘Because the kingdom would have lost a princess to a human, that’s why.’

‘Mmm...I like hearing that!’ He reached down and hitched her leg up. ‘But I want to hear you panting more right now.’

‘Your turn?’ She drawled, allowing him to arrange her.

‘Where I go, you go.’ Lincoln corrected her. His pupils were dilated, making his eyes look almost black and devastatingly wicked. He shifted his weight off her supporting leg, and nudged the hitched one aside more with his hips, slowly, positioning himself in a way that made Ivyanne’s breath catch again. She could feel him against her, and the head of his erection was slick of its own accord, and her heart skipped a beat. It was coming. The fantasy of her lifetime, was about to come to pass. What would be left for them on the other side of it?

The tip of Lincoln’s nose was leaving a featherlight trail along the curve of her jaw, as the inside of her knee rode up his own silken flank. Both touches were barely there and yet all there was. Ivyanne rested her hands on his chest, running them down towards his torso with reverence. He felt as good as he looked. Lanky, lean, broad in the shoulders but tapered at the waist, his skin a passionate shade of sun-kissed. She liked the way he had to stoop down to kiss her, loved to gaze down his long legs, smiling at the still-to-fade tan lines from his life as a human, which ended mid thigh.

‘You’re going to feel like sin,’ he rasped, pressing his stiffness between her legs. ‘How am I going to hold on?’

Ivyanne angled her face up to his, lifting one hand and smoothing it along his brow bone, mesmerised by his thick dark lashes and eyebrows. He was so different from Tristan. It was strange, how the one who looked like the dark prince was the light, and the one who’d looked like an angel had been the devil of the two. Would it remain that way, or was Lincoln about to change her perspective? Needing to know what she was getting into this time, Ivyanne dropped her hand between them, and stretched her fingers around his length, breathing in sharply to feel how hard he was, but relaxing somewhat to know that he wasn’t going to physically challenge her the way Tristan had. He felt perfect. Silken, hard and long...just like the rest of him.

Lincoln exhaled hoarsely, his erection jerking against her palm, his expression agonized as he lifted his face to the sunlight streaming through the leaves above.

‘Tightly.’ Ivyanne whispered, pumping him gently, feeling that deep ache wake from its orgasm-induced satiation inside her, and almost swooning with power when he cried out again. ‘And I’ll squeeze back….right
here
.’

Lincoln’s eyes seemed to glass over at her words and then suddenly, he pounced, his mouth claiming hers, forcing her lips apart and sweeping his tongue across her own just as he grunted and drove himself into her so deeply and swiftly that Ivyanne’s body was jerked by the action, her foot lifted from the ground. For a moment, she panicked, thinking that his enthusiasm was going to hurt her but then his hands caught both knees and lifted her, repositioning her before thrusting a second time.

‘Ahh.’ He moaned, arching his back as he surged forward, face contorted with restrained euphoria. This time his erection found less resistance and she gasped as he slid along and ignited every single nerve ending inside her-catching her by surprise. Her body had taken forever to accept Tristan’s, but it adjusted to Lincoln’s in a heartbeat, as though he’d been created just for her.

‘Oh!’She squeezed her thighs tight around his waist, feeling her ankles cross upon the slight rise of his rump, and her sex shivered and clenched around him, holding him tightly as she’d promised but hadn’t fully comprehended.

Lincoln. She was with Lincoln. He was inside her, and he was hers. The magnitude of that suddenly hit her and tears sprung to her eyes again, but this time, blissfully happy ones. He reared back and shoved himself inside her again, and this time, her body hummed in response. He growled in the back of his throat, the aftershock resonating through her mouth and making her feel giddy with triumph.

‘Perfect!’ He whispered, his kisses become messy as he slipped his hands over her hips and pulled her down, deepening his impalement. ‘
Tight
! Hot..!’

‘God..!’ Ivyanne felt like her insides were dissolving to pixels. She had expected Lincoln to be the bed of roses, gentle sort, and yet he was entering her with calculated, slow and powerfully deep strokes, punctuating each with a primal grunt that shattered a fresh crack in his polite façade and revealed the beast beneath. Was this her doing? Was he like this with Adele, or was this the result of ten years of taunting? Because he was acting nothing like the thoughtful boy who’d gently stroked her breast with wide eyes as a teenager.

And she was so grateful for that she could have wept.

‘You...feel….like...heaven…!’ He exclaimed through gritted teeth, punctuating every word with a slow, deep thrust that made his buttocks flex under her ankles. ‘I knew you would!’ His breath was labored, seemingly panicked, the words panted across her lips and against her tongue.

Ivyanne tightened around him, curling her tailbone to meet his every stroke, frantically trying to increase his pace, knowing that she needed...more….just
more
, and quickly. She needed his movements as rapid as her heart rate, as accelerated as her breathing. She remembered this feeling from her first time, but where Tristan had sensed it and brought her swiftly to the summit, Lincoln was pacing it, making her ache. Making her feel heavy and light simultaneously, keeping her somewhere between frustration and rapture.

‘I love you Ivanna.’ Lincoln’s voice broke on the name-the
wrong
name-but it didn’t matter at that point. She knew what he meant, that it had to be said to anchor him in the moment. As tenderly as he’d spoken, Lincoln lifted her from the tree and then sank to the ground again, this time, bringing him with her, keeping her impaled as he sat, indian-style, his own long legs under her thighs, their hipbones locked together, the swell of her breasts creating the only separation between their torsos. It was warm and close and intimate, more as she’d expected, but bracing all the same.

‘I love you too.’ Ivyanne shifted to encircle his neck with her arms, looking him directly in the eye as she rose, lifting herself high enough to sink down, mirroring his deliberate and slow movements, sensing that he was trying to prolong the experience and wanting to be everything for him though she was already pulsing for release around his shaft. It was a precarious situation, for the angle filled her completely and left little room to maneuver, but he came to her assistance, cupping her backside and granting her the leverage to slip off, then sheath him once more. Her inner walls tightened, and their grinding hips stimulated her external pleasure pulse in a gratifying way, and she whimpered, coming down harder on him the next time, a thrill racing through her when he let out a guttural moan, thickening inside her. The next time she lifted her hips to ride him, he caught one of her nipples with his lips and sucked, hard, making her next descent glorious.

‘Yes..’ she breathed, resting her hands on his shoulders and pushing off-before slamming back down. ‘I want your mouth all over me!’

‘Mmm!’ His hands left her ass and took her shoulders, concaving them, pressing her breasts together. Then, he thrust his face into the fullness and moaned in appreciation, making Ivyanne quake. His need for her, his longing, made her feel like a goddess. She rolled her hips against his and grinned in delight at the sensations it caused.

‘Fuck. Oh fuck!’ Lincoln’s head snapped up, his hands coming back on her hips. ‘Ivyanne, slow down baby. I can’t fucking handle it! It’s too hot! The way you look-’

But Ivyanne couldn’t slow down. She cried out, arching her back, planting her hands on the cool grass behind her and tapping in on that well of strength she rarely had use for to force his body into submission with quick contractions of her abdomen. She inhaled deeply through her nose, almost tasting the salt and pine needles surrounding them, feeling more connected to the earth than she had in a long time as her body did what it had been built for.

‘Argh! Ivyanne, please!
I’m
going to…!’

‘I want you to!’ Ivyanne rolled up, grabbed his taut biceps and then threw her weight back, forcing him to come down on top of her, giving him a moment to disentangle his acres of legs and then catch himself on his elbows above her. ‘Inside me!’

‘Oh damn you!’ Lincoln cried, and a shudder went through him that reverberated deep inside her. When his face turned to hers, she could see the merman inside shove the eager to please human to the floor in triumph. He growled and then thrust forward, wrapping his arms around her, binding her too him lustfully.

‘I’ll give it to you hard and fast Ivyanne,’ Lincoln hissed in her ear. ‘And then I’m going to roll you over and do it again until you
beg
me to slow down.’

‘Oh..!’ Ivyanne closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the pleasure and keep her wits but it was useless now. No more words were exchanged, no more restraint was used. Lincoln ground into her and Ivyanne’s body reacted by shattering after just four or five strokes that made her shake uncontrollably in his arms, every part of her twitching, jerking with the release. Lincoln followed on the sixth, his rapturous cry muffled only by her mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently, the finger of one of her hands touching the ruby on the other in time for Lincoln to stiffen and then pump his seed into her, sobbing her name, collapsing on the grass, smothering her with his body, passion and love. Ten years of it.