Lifting my legs, he slouches into the couch and drapes my legs over his lap. His hands instantly attack my feet, rubbing the arches with his thumb. I groan and smile at him.
“You need a wife.” I tease, smirking.
“No… What I need is my girl to answer her phone before I have a stroke.”
“Why am I your girl…? Dang Linc that feels soooo good.” Moaning, I close my eyes, relishing in his amazing foot massage. His fingers gently press each pad of my toes, sending spikes of relaxing pleasure to rack my entire body.
“Because…you just are.” He shrugs, his eyes focusing on my feet. Not my face.
“You don’t like me that way do you?” I guess I’ve never thought to ask this before. I assumed it was no. But he’s always been there for me and we’ve been friends for years.
“Yes. I do. Even though I shouldn’t and can’t. My lifestyle does not go with what you need. You could never be a Submissive, Lex. And I don’t even want you to be. That’s why I’ve never pushed anything. I love you a lot. More than a friend kind of love, but, like I said, it’s never going to be more.”
My heart climbs up and fills my throat. He’s right; I could never live like that. And I can’t believe he actually feels something for me. This is news.
“What about my lady?”
“What about it? You think that’d deter any man from wanting you? You’re prettier and sweeter than most women. Who cares about that? I surely don’t. Any man worth your love wouldn’t either. If I didn’t get my kicks the way I do. I’d make you mine. But I’m a Dom down to the bone, have been for half my life.” His voice is low, and sexy. It’s always sexy but right now, it’s even more so.
“Do you have a Sub?” I inquire, treading lightly. I don’t want to push for more information. I guess this is a night of question and answers. I’ve never asked him about his lifestyle before.
“I have three.”
“Three?” I choke on my words and cough, pounding on my chest with my fist to clear my windpipe.
Chuckling, he sweetly pats my calf. “Yes, three.”
“Do you beat them all?”
Shaking his head, now laughing, he looks at me with a giant smile. “Lex, I don’t beat anybody. Well, perp’s I do. Not the women I take as Sub’s. It’s not like it was with you and Brian. I don’t hurt them. I pleasure them. There’s a huge difference. Did you ever get pleasure from the things he did?”
Cringing, I shake my head. I never liked a damn thing Brian did to me. None of it was pleasurable. It hurt. Bad.
“See, that’s what I thought. I’ve been with two of my Sub’s for almost ten years. My newest, I met through one of them and I like her too.”
“Do you sleep with them all?”
“Yes. But it’s not about me. It’s about them.”
“How’s that possible? A Dom gets pleasure from a Sub.”
Shaking his head, he pats my calf again and returns to rubbing the soles of my feet. “It’s not like that with real Dom’s, Lex. We don’t force Sub’s to pleasure us. They do it so we will service them the way they need to be. Some like it rougher than others, and I’ve always been careful not to push the limits too far with my Sub’s.”
“If you don’t push limits then why am I not a contender?”
Did I really just ask him that? Do I want Lincoln to take me to bed? No! I don’t want anybody to take me to bed. I can’t believe I asked that. I’m an idiot.
“There is pain involved. You deserve a man who doesn’t want to put you through any pain. You’ve had enough of that. I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. I’m glad Gage got to Corey last night before I did. If he hadn’t, Corey would be lucky all he ended up with was a few fractured cheekbones, bruised ribs, and a broken nose. I wouldn’t have been as nice.” Lincoln’s facial expression has switched from normal and handsome to menacing. His voice, dripping with malice.
Sitting up on the couch, I wrap my robe-covered arms around his neck and pull him into a side hug. Kissing his cheek I whisper, “I love you, Linc. When do you have to go?”
“I love you more. I’ve got to get going now. I just came to check up on you. Sorry about the conversation.” Moving my legs to the side he gets up from the couch, kisses my forehead, and leaves.
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday
The Suit Master
“Can I help?” I ask, peering over my sister’s shoulder, into the salad bowl on my father’s countertop.
“You can’t cook.” Tasha teases, bumping me with her hip.