32. Lincoln

The hallway is a graveyard, as we finally have the house to ourselves.

Jeremiah is off chasing Oakley around campus, Graham is hooking up with someone from the baseball team. No doubt trying to bang the entire starting lineup. At least he doesn't shit where he eats. If I had to deal with some lovesick football player he fucked and ghosted, I might just pluck my own eyeballs out.

We aren't going to talk about Penn. I saw him heading out with a duffle bag and he's either committing murder or committing murder. Unless he fucking calls, I'm not going to worry about it. He can take care of himself. Who fucking knows what Dad has him doing?

Iris' hand is clasped in mine, our fingers tangled up, and I can feel her pulse beating against my own. For once we're walking up the stairs together without me having to drag her, or her stomping away from me in anger. Never thought I'd actually fucking see the day.

"Race you," Iris challenges, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Prepare to lose," I shoot back, already knowing the outcome. My legs are longer, conditioned by countless sprints down the football field, but tonight, I let her stay ahead, just so I can watch the sway of her hips as she moves.

We burst through my bedroom door from the impromptu race.

"Privacy secured," I declare with a smirk, twisting the lock into place.

"Feeling possessive?" Her voice dances around the room, playful yet laced with desire.

"Always." I close the distance between us in two strides, my hands finding her waist. "Especially when it comes to you."

"Lincoln," she breathes, and it's all the invitation I need. My chest constricts, every nerve ending aflame with anticipation.

"God, you're fucking stunning," I say, my voice barely above a growl.

"Show me," she counters, stepping closer until I can feel the heat of her body radiating against mine. It's a command disguised as a plea, and damn if it doesn't spike my desire even higher.

"Patience," I tease, though I'm anything but patient. I pull her to me, our bodies colliding with a force that steals my breath. "We've got all night."

"Promise? Sounds…intense." Her smile matches mine.

"Intense is my specialty," I retort, the edge in my voice softened by the growing need that coils tight within me, begging for release.

"Show me," she demands again, her tone commanding, leaving no room for argument—not that I'd even want to disagree with her right now.

"Good things come to those who wait," I tease, even as every fiber of my being screams at me to take her, claim her as mine right here, right now.

"Fuck waiting," she counters, and damn if that isn't the hottest thing I've heard all night.

"Let's make one thing clear, angel," I say, my words thick with promise as I press her against the nearest wall. "You're mine. All mine."

"Prove it." Her challenge is a red flag to a bull.

"Consider it done," I growl, my voice a low rumble that fills the room with the sound of impending sin.

"You were mine the night I met you. You were mine when we pretended to hate each other." I breathe raggedly against my stepsister's perfect mouth. "You were always meant to be mine, angel."

"Lincoln," she pants, her voice a siren song that drowns out any last whisper of restraint.

"Quiet," I rasp, my words tangling with the adrenaline that courses through me.

"Make me," Iris retorts, a wicked gleam in her green eyes. She knows exactly what she's doing, pushing buttons only she has access to now.

I answer her challenge without words, lips crashing on hers, devouring the sass and sarcasm I can't get enough of. My hands, brash and unapologetic, work at the fabric of her clothes, stripping away the layers between us. There's a desperation in the way I undress her, a hunger for skin, for contact, that's got nothing to do with patience or foreplay.

"Fuck, your body is my goddamn playground," I grunt as her shirt hits the floor, revealing the expanse of her flesh, unburdened by a death contraption called a bra. I spin her around so I can pull her against me but suddenly it's not just lust—it's something rawer, darker—that claws its way up my throat as my gaze trips over the crisscrossed scars that mar her otherwise flawless back.

"Shit, angel..." The words catch in my throat, half choked out, a mixture of desire and something akin to anger. Why hadn't she told me? "Where did these come from?" It's an accusation as much as a question, but one that hangs suspended in the air between us, unanswered.

She offers no explanation, her silence a barrier that suddenly feels more intimate than any confession. In this moment, I'm reading a story written on her skin—a tale of pain that she's chosen to keep silent, but now I'm privy to the secret chapters etched into her flesh.

"Doesn't matter right now, but one day you'll tell me," I say finally, dismissing my own curiosity because right now, there's only this—her body yielding beneath my touch, the scent of her arousal mingling with mine, the undeniable truth that whatever her past holds, it's brought her here to me.

"Shower," I growl, steering her toward the glass enclosure. The scars don't diminish her; if anything, they add to the complexity of her. She really is my godforsaken fallen angel. And I'm determined to unravel everything, starting with the taste of her skin. I reach in and turn it on and allow it to heat up. I don't need a cold shower killing my erection right now. While we wait, I tug her panties down, leaving her completely naked to my eye. I can't help but rove over every inch of her, looking for anything else I may have missed.

I've spent far too long rushing with her and right now I'm realizing the error of my ways. I should have seen it sooner. I back up just enough and she turns to watch me undress myself. Reaching behind me, I grab the back of my shirt, roughly pulling it over my head and tossing it to the side. The way her eyes dilate at the move is the exact reason I did it. It turns her on when I act like a fuck boy. Stepping out of my pants and boxers just as quickly as I pulled hers down has us both bare. My cock bobs, smacking against my lower abs and I watch as her cute tongue pokes out between her lips as the silver in her nipples begs for my attention.

The steam billows around us like a living thing as I usher Iris into the shower, the hot spray raining down on our bare skin. My heart hammers against my ribs, blood roaring in my ears. It's not just raw desire; it's something feral, something primal that tightens its grip on me with every droplet that slides over her skin.

"Fuck," I hiss as the water trails down my back, all heat and pressure. The steam clouds my vision, but I don't need clarity to feel her.

"Hot enough for you?" she teases, her voice sultry, almost drowned out by the cascade of water.

"Well, we have to have it scalding for you, angel," I shoot back, smirking despite the tightness in my chest.

The water's touch is almost a caress, amplifying every sensation. I watch rivulets carve paths over her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, and I'm struck by an overwhelming need to follow their journey with my mouth.

"Lincoln..." Her voice is a soft moan now, weaving through the steam, pulling me from my trance.

"Right here."

"Touch me," she breathes, and it's not a request—it's a command that sends a jolt straight to my groin.

My hands are on her then, tracing the lines of water as they slip over her skin, mapping the territory I'm about to conquer. She arches into my touch, a silent plea for more, always more.

Turning around, she leans back into me, a perfect fit against my chest, and I can feel the rise and fall of her breath sync with the rhythm of the shower. Her hands find mine, guiding them over the slick terrain of her body.

"Fuck, Iris." My words come out strangled, caught halfway between a groan and a growl. "You're driving me insane."

"Good," she whispers, sass in her voice.

The water envelops us, a torrential downpour that seems to echo the storm brewing within. Every nerve ending screams, attuned to her every shiver, every sigh.

"God, Lincoln, I need—" Her sentence dissolves into a gasp as I spin her around to face me, our eyes locking in a silent exchange of raw need.

"Tell me," I coax, kissing a trail of water droplets from her collarbone to the valley between her breasts. "What do you need?"

"Your touch—everywhere." Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me closer until there is no space left between us and I can feel my dick poking right into her belly. If I bend my knees just a bit, I could fuck myself between her thighs.

"Everywhere?" My smirk is all challenge, and it earns me a fierce bite on my lower lip that sends a jolt straight to my groin.

I snatch a washcloth from the rack, water streaming off my shoulders as I work up a lather, quick and purposeful. The soap's musky scent cuts through the steam, sharp and grounding. I scrub down, skin tingling under my own rough touch, but it's just a prelude.

"Turn around," I command, voice low, threaded with that raw need clawing up my throat.

Iris pivots, obedient yet challenging, always pushing and pulling at the same time. I drape an arm around her waist, reeling her in until she's flush against me. My breath hitches; she's all soft curves and slick skin—a stark contrast to my hard lines.

The soaped cloth is a caress over her shoulder as I glide it across her flesh. Each pass is calculated, every inch of her explored with a reverence. She tilts her head back, resting it against my chest, her pulse thrumming against my arm.

"Does that feel good?" My voice is a husky murmur, almost lost beneath the patter of water.

"Better than good," she replies, her tone laced with invitation.

"Hands on the wall," I whisper against the shell of her ear, and she leans forward, obedient, the arch of her back a seductive invitation. My fingertips dance across her ribs, circling her waist, tracing the rise of her hips. I don't miss the way her body shudders under my touch, or the way her breathing eases into silence. My hand trails lower, mapping her body.

"Lincoln..." Her name for me is a sigh, laced with need and want.

"Shh," I silence her with a nip at her earlobe, "just feel. Let me take care of you for fucking once."

"Every part of you," I growl, "belongs to me."

Iris silently challenges me, looking over her shoulder, eyes daring me to take what she offers.

Oh, I will—I'll take and take.

My hands are bolder now, skimming over her thighs, teasing the sensitive skin behind her knees. My fingers brush over her belly, drawing near those twin peaks of desire. She gasps, the sound mixing with the patter of water.

"Does that feel good?" I murmur, leaning in to nip at her neck, tasting the droplets that have beaded there.

"God, yes," she breathes out, pressing back against me, seeking friction, and I'm all too happy to oblige and I press myself into the small of her back and let my fingers pluck and tweak, alternating between her breasts and her clit.

"Baby, you keep calling me God. Thought I was Satan's spawn?" I tease her in more ways than one as I slide my fingers through her wet slit, circling her entrance before finally pushing two digits in and hooking them upwards. I know as soon as I touch it that she's moments away from coming all over my hand.

"Shu—" She's cut off as I grip her hair, pulling her head backward and biting her throat, making sure to suck hard enough to leave a mark. I know she's going to bitch about how tacky it is, and I don't give a shit.

"Come for me, my baby." I demand and like an automatic thing she does. Clenching around me and letting go as her orgasm washes over her. The control I have over her goes to my head, and I feel almost lightheaded at the sensation.

I pull my fingers out of her and stick them in my mouth, sucking every drop of her off before pulling them back out.

I let the water sluice over Iris' body, rinsing away the remaining lather I've spread across her curves, the suds spiraling down the drain in a vortex.

"Want me to wash your hair?" I offer, my voice a soft growl against the soothing sound of the shower.

I have her full attention, green eyes fierce and unreadable. A shake of her head sends droplets flying as her dark waves cling to her shoulders; they catch the light, shimmering like tiny diamonds. "No," she breathes out, lips barely moving.

"Okay." The single syllable hangs between us.

With a sudden shift, Iris presses close, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers catching on the cross I wear—ironic, given the shit we're steeped in. She stands on tiptoe, sliding her tongue across my lips before dropping back down. The faint taste of herself lingers from her little act.

"Your turn," she murmurs, her breath just coasting along my skin before she sinks to her knees.

"Like what you see?" I tease, tilting my head down just to watch her work her magic on me.

"Shut up, Lincoln," she retorts without missing a beat, her tone a mix of playful and stern.

Iris knows what she does to me, and she revels in it, her every touch deliberate, every glide of her palms forcing out a ragged breath from deep within me. I let out a low chuckle laced with the edge of surrender. "You're full of surprises, angel."

"Keep up, Blackwood." That's all the warning she gives me.

"Fuck," I gasp, all breath and no bravado as her lips close around me. The heat of her mouth is hotter than the water that pelts down on us both.

She mumbles against me, her voice sending vibrations straight to my core.

"Damn, you feel incredible," I groan, each word punctuated with a thrust that draws a whimper from her lips. My hands find their way into her chestnut waves, using them as the perfect anchor.

"More," she breathes out, pulling off my cock before swallowing me back up, nails digging into the back of my thighs, drawing lines of fire down my legs. Her urgency is a drug, and I'm addicted to the way she unravels beneath my touch.

The air's thick with steam and desire, and the sound—fuck, the sound of her taking me deeper is dark and seductive. It wouldn't take much to steal all the air from her lungs. I can't hold back the guttural groan that escapes me, the tiles amplifying the sounds.

"Like that?" I manage to choke out, watching her nod, her movements deliberate and slow, teasing out every shiver that racks through me. "You're gonna make me lose my mind, angel."

Her response is a hum and I feel it spiral down my spine. The wet noises, filthy and perfect, send me to the edge and I'm teetering.

"Jesus Christ, Iris..." My words are a mix of reverence and raunch, my voice bouncing off the walls. "That mouth of yours is downright sinful."

"Look at you," I breathe out, the sight of her beneath me etching itself into my memory, an image I'll recall forever. "Don't stop, angel. Don't ever fucking stop."

Heat coils in my gut, a burning tension wound tighter with every flick of Iris' tongue. The steam from the shower clouds around us like a damn shroud, heat upon heat. My breaths come in short, ragged gasps, and the wet slap of skin echoes off the tiles. I'm close, teetering on the edge of a cliff she's more than ready to push me over.

"Fuck, Iris... I'm—" The words dissolve into a raw groan as that creeping climax rips through me. Her name is a prayer, a curse, a confession all in one. I slap my hands against the shower wall as I release into her mouth. When the last spurts finally leaves my body, I feel myself relax as the tension bleeds out.

And then she pulls back, just enough, her green eyes locked on mine. There's a challenge there, the same one that's always simmered between us. She shows me my cum on her tongue, that smirk playing on her lips, before she swallows it down. It's a move so full of power, so quintessentially Iris, it nearly knocks me backward.

"You're something fucking else," I pant, voice reduced to gravel.

The water shuts off with a finality that matches my heavy heartbeat. With no hesitation, I bend, arms sliding beneath her, muscles bunching as I lift her up from her knees. She's light as air, or maybe I'm just fueled by this frenzy she's caused within me.

"Lincoln Blackwood, a gentleman. Who would have known?" she teases, voice husky as it mingles with the dissipating steam.

"Only for you, angel. Don't forget I'll fuck you like an animal also." My tone is a low growl, but the smile tugging at my lips betrays the affection laced within the rough timber. Her body pressed against mine; I carry her out of the bathroom, possessiveness thrumming in my veins.

The silken sheets greet her back as I lay Iris down before sliding myself between her legs. She wraps her limbs around me and our eyes lock; I notch myself between her thighs, the heat from her core inviting me in.

"Ready for me?" My voice is a low promise, and she nods.

I thrust into her, and her breath catches, a sound so sweet it's almost sinful. The rhythm we set is primal, every movement laced with urgency.

"Linc..." Her whisper is a siren call, pulling me deeper into the abyss.

"Tell me what you want," I growl, fingers finding her clit, circling with precision.

"Harder," she commands, her nails raking down my back in a delicious sting that etches her desire onto my skin. Each scratch is a mark of her possession. I oblige, the sound of our bodies coming together filling the room. Hard, fast, and wet.

"Fuck, angel." My words are a ragged edge, raw emotion seeping through the layers of control I usually maintain. "You're going to make me..."

"Come for me, baby," she interrupts, and hearing the endearment spill from her lips is my undoing. I push as far into her as I can go and feel my cum spill out of me and take up home inside of her. Marking every inch of her it can.

I'm just catching my breath again when she pushes against my lower body, forcing me to pull out. Before I can react and ask why, her body is convulsing in waves, and I watch, fascinated, as she comes undone, squirting with abandon. The sight is visceral, raw—too much and not enough all at once. As it covers the both of us and if I hadn't just come, I surely would have again. Dropping down, I lower my mouth to her center, tasting the climax off her skin, the flavor of us leaving me ravenous for more.

"Damn," I breathe against her, the word barely a whisper before I'm shoving my half-hard cock inside her again, driven by a force that's beyond rational thought.

I don't think I can come a third time, but fuck if I want my dick to be anywhere else besides in her right now.

Silence stretches between us as I hold her to me and roll us over so she's laying splayed across my chest with me still nestled in her.

"Yours," she breathes out, a single word loaded with so much fucking meaning.

This.

This is all I fucking need.