Pass the Quill

Pass the Quill

GINGER
Her face was green, her body shivering and Lincoln was grinning from ear to ear.
Goldi Locks sat with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes cast downward and away from the scene. As respectful as ever. The skank. How mature of her, to be so close to the action and still have the presence of mind to keep her composure and avert her gaze. So boring.
I’m pretty sure my mouth was still open, my bottom lip hanging limp like a dead fish as a puddle of drool began to collect behind my teeth, a fact that had next to nothing to do with the food on my new plate. 
Something all too similar was taking place in my vagina as well and I was forced to sit up just a bit straighter, crossing my ankles and tightening my thighs to keep from soiling the back of my dress. I should not have chosen to wear a thong.
Alpha Lincoln, I, your Strawberry, do hereby forgive you for both, your lies and false trespasses. Come…join me for dinner and place your hand between my thighs so that I might warm your fingers. You’ve earned it.
The sight of Lincoln standing there, muscles flexed with power, the golden skin of his exposed arms rippling with the ink of his tattoos as he retrieved the fork from the table and replaced it between Zelda’s fingers was enough to rewrite the night I had planned completely. From punishment to pleasure, I would pass the quill to Lincoln and relinquish all control. Maybe drop to my knees in servitude and become the slave at his feet, or climb up onto his lap so that I could ride him into heaven. 
The picturing of it alone pushed a flood of turbulent honey from my core and I cleared my throat, squeezing my thighs together to keep from ’spilling’ my secrets onto the seat.
I am so done with this dinner!
I wanted nothing more than for Lincoln to abandon his little presentation and forget about his mother eating that goddessawful lamb’s head. He’d already succeeded in humiliating her, already succeeded in revealing the demonic spirit that speaks behind her savagely aging face! Shit, he even turned her into a reject by presenting Giselle with a reminder of the life she left behind and giving her the opportunity to display how fickle her loyalty can be!
Slam the gavel down, Lincoln! This session is over! Please let us put an end to the evening from hell and be on our merry way!
The sound of a barely repressed chortle hits my ears and I spin in the direction of the sound to find Alpha Mario quaking with silent laughter. One hand is half haphazardly covering his mouth while the other grips his wine glass as if it’s the only thing keeping him from busting a gut.
As I slowly turn away from him I’m shocked to see that Giselle too, seems to be having a hell of a time containing her laughter. With both hands locked over her mouth she attempted to appear scandalized by what had just occurred at the head of the table, and I would have believed that she was, except that she snorted through her next breath with a giggle, her former tears banished with a single bite of rotted lamb. 
Despite that only seconds ago Rafael looked ready to sever all ties, he turned toward her, a tentative smile turning his lips as he playfully reprimanded her with a shake of his head, a fondness in his eyes that could only come from intimate connection.
Resentment for their closeness suddenly burned in my gut and I was robbed of all joy that watching Zelda choke down rotten meat gave me.
Turning toward Lincoln, I spied Goldi Locks, or Miss Marsha, as she so crudely provided, with hearts in her eyes and her tongue practically lolling as she watched Lincoln affirm his hold over his mother’s fork.
I followed her line of sight to his bare forearms as the pair of them bulged with muscle and a dangerous coil of possessive anger unraveled within me. My teeth began to ache, my gums throbbing and in the back of my mind I noted my hair standing on end as my muscles locked tighter than they ever had before. Keeping to my seat so that I didn’t do something crazy like tear out Goldi’s eyes, I followed each crease and groove of Lincoln’s chiseled form all the way up to his neck. Heat engulfed me and my chest rumbled, a low growl forming somewhere deep as the marks on my thighs and breast began to burn with unholy fire. Shifting my gaze to the deep vee of Lincoln’s shirt where a tantalizing amount of his powerful chest remained on display, I thought I saw something glowing there. Something flashing, but what?
His flower tattoo?
As if he could feel my thoughts, Lincoln’s head shot up and his gaze connected with mine.
“Lincoln,” I hissed, grimacing as my stomach began to turn and intense pain like I had never known began to spark within my bones.
“Strawberry!?” I heard him exclaim.
“Lincoln!” I managed to shout, barely aware of the shocked voices that now swirled around my head and I shoved away from the table in agony, my bones contorting in such a way that I just knew they were breaking. “Lincoln! H-H-elp m-me!” I stammered out as my vision began to go dark, the snap and crack of bone the only sound I heard beyond the excruciating pain that seared through every part of me.
“What’s happening to her? What the fuck is wrong with her?” 
Was that Zelda? Did she sound worried?
No. No way. I must be mistaken.
But as I writhed there on the floor, my back arching upward and my spine curling unnaturally, there were two faces that hovered above mine, worry in their eyes.
Lincoln’s and…Zelda’s.