“The bar.” He squeezes my right hand. “You hold on right here.”
“I can only hold on with one hand?”
“That’s all you need.” He lowers his mouth to my ear. “When you ride me, you don’t hold on to anything.”
I grin and roll my eyes. “That’s a little different. This is a bull. It could get a little wild, and I could get bucked off.”
Lincoln leaves my left hand in the air and rests his against my lower belly.
“Riding a bull is like having sex. It’s all in the hips,” he whispers, tugging me back until my ass is cradled firmly between his legs and his cock is pressed against me. “Find a rhythm and ride. And next time you climb on top of me, I’ll show you just how wild I can be. You’ll wish you had a bar to hold on to.” He nips playfully at my ear, and I tilt my head to the side, exposing my neck.
“If that’s his form of helping, you were an idiot to turn that man down,” I hear Emily tell Abby.
“No shit,” she replies. “Are they going to fuck up there or what?”
Emily sighs. “Looks like it.”
Lincoln laughs, and I shake my head. “Sorry about them.”
“Don’t be. I like your friends. Well, except for Jack. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“Jack who?” I look over my shoulder at Lincoln. His eyes are hooded, and he’s got a sexy smirk on his face. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worried. You’re mine, and you know it.”
I nod.
“You kids ready?” Jimmy hollers.
“You ready?” Lincoln asks me.
“Don’t let me get hurt, okay?”
“Never. I’ll never let you get hurt.”
I feel like he’s talking about more than riding Cheryl. I want to ask him what else he means, but when Cheryl whirs to life, I squeal and face forward.
Lincoln tightens his right hand on mine against the bar, and his left hand is secure against my stomach as Cheryl slowly begins to rock.
“Shit,” Abby says. “I’m not sure I can watch this. It’s making me nervous.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her cover her face with her hands.
“You good?” Lincoln asks. I nod, and he yells to Jimmy. “A little faster.”
Jimmy kicks it up a notch, and Cheryl’s speed increases.
Lincoln was right; this is a lot like sex. Lincoln’s hips are moving with mine, and each time we rock, his cock slides along my ass—over and over until all I can concentrate on is how hard he is and what it would feel like if there was nothing between us.
“Are you always this hard when you get on a bull?” I ask over my shoulder.
“It’s not the bull; it’s you.” He grinds against me, and I moan, hopeful that Cheryl’s motor keeps people from hearing.
Lincoln’s fingers splay out along my belly, his pinky and ring finger dipping low. Each time we rock, his grip on me tightens, and his fingers push against my zipper, cau
sing it to rub against my clit.
I’m trying to pay attention to what I’m doing, but all I can concentrate on is the delicious friction and Lincoln’s hard chest at my back.