Page 46 of Stay Toxic

“And here we are. What’s your poison? The Goltzes have some of my father’s wine, if you want that rosé.”

“Thank you, yes, that would be lovely.”

Since he’s no longer in a college dorm and limited to terrible beer, Sebastian opts for a priceless scotch.

“So, you introduced yourself as Aurelius via text. Which do you prefer?”

“I used to go by Keller, but so did my cousin. That was fine while he was out of town—he studied in boarding school—but now he’s also on campus and he’s a little more active than me in the social scene, so when people say our last name, they tend to mean him.” He shrugs, like he doesn’t care much. “I guess I prefer Bass. Sebastian isn’t so bad.”

I hide my smile. “But you dislike Aurelius?”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s awfully aged, don’t you think?”

“I do,” I say pointedly, as the bartender comes back with our drinks. I lift mine. “Well, cheers, Aurelius.”

If he insists on calling me Hestia, I don’t see why I shouldn’t get to play, too.

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Oh, Hestia. I knew you were going to be a challenge.”

“What, you don’t like a taste of your own medicine?”

“Let’s see how determined you are. See, not many people use my name. And hearing you say it? Well, that makes me very hard, little pervert. So, try this for a taste of one’s medicine: Doesn’t matter where we are, who might be watching, or listening. You call me Aurelius? I bury something in your cunt until you’re drenched.” His glass clinks against mine before he brings it to his lips, taking one sip.

His eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t need to do anything, and I’m already drenched. It’s his voice, the heat, the desire in those eyes. It’s this damn place and everyone so wildly giving into their bestial desires. It’s just me, and him.

I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.

But I’m so very tired of doing what I should.

“Do your worst, Aurelius.”

20

I’ve only ever been with Robert, and it wasn’t all that special, but I could have been as experienced as Ari, I’m fairly certain it wouldn’t have prepared me for the jolt of electricity, heat, and arousal rushing through every inch of my body the moment he pounces on me. One hand through my hair, the other sliding up my thigh, underneath the tulle of the gown, as he presses me against him. The apex of my thighs pulses as he inches closer, those teasing fingers taking their time.

Nothing has ever made me feel close to this; not my own fingers, certainly not anyone else’s. I don’t recognize my own flesh, or the need growing in my core.

“Hold on to that drink, Hestia. Wouldn’t want to spill now, would we?” Sebastian chuckles, and then that infuriating mouth is nuzzling my neck.

Fuck. The rosé in my hand is shaking like there’s a damn earthquake. I completely forgot about it or I would have set it down on the bar; but now I make a point of trying to hold it steady, while those clever fingers press against the thin fabric of my panties.

“You’re fucking soaked.” I hear Sebastian practically growl. “I knew you were a naughty little pervert. What made you so drenched, Hestia? Watching, or knowing you wouldn’t get out of here without feeling my cock deep in your tight little folds?”

As he speaks, he bypasses the silk panties, and two fingers part my outer lips, while his thumb presses against my clit.

I bend in two, a deep, mewling moan torn right out of my throat. I didn’t even know it was possible for anyone to make noises like that without faking it, but I couldn’t bite them back if I tried.

My poor glass crashes against the floor, spilling all over the dark marble. By luck, it doesn’t break.

“So fucking responsive, aren’t you?” Sebastian whispers. “And here I thought you’d at least try to be discreet. Maybe you aren’t as shy as one would assume. Do you want everyone’s eyes on you, pervert?”

I can’t help a furtive glance around us, my heart beating fast at the idea of people watching; but despite his teasing, no one’s really paying attention to us. The people here are too taken with their own perversions, or watching those who are unapologetically fucking each other in the open, to look at something as tame as a guy fingering some girl at the bar.

“Disappointed you’re not the center of attention?” He laughs. “I can change that.”

I yelp as he grasps my wrist and twist until I’m facing away from him, toward the center of the room, my back against his hard, muscular chest.

The hand on my arm moves to my bust, and slowly lowers the fabric under one of my breasts, then the other, exposing the bare skin.