The jokes die out when I’m finally under him, a scrap of cotton underwear all that separates me from being completely naked and entirely at his mercy.
Sebastian takes his time looking at me, gaze meticulous. He studies my collarbone, the curve of my hip. The faint stretch marks from years of growing into my body and the hand I rest on my stomach. He reaches out, thumb rubbing an excruciatingly slow circle against my clit. The start of a smile when I arch my back in response.
“Wet,” he says. I look down where he’s touching me, a damp spot forming on the front of my underwear. “You’re so wet. I like knowing I do that to you.”
He tugs his shirt over his head, showing off the muscles across his bare chest. He loops both arms under my thighs, getting on his stomach and draping his leg off the far arm of the couch. It can’t be comfortable, an awkward position he won’t be able to stay in long, but he doesn’t seem to care.
How can I put up a fight when he yanks my underwear to the side? Why would I protest when he keeps his gaze on me and lowers his mouth between my legs, licking me like I was made for him? How can I argue when his fingers dig into my skin hard enough to leave behind a bruise while he circles my clit with his tongue?
My hands work their way to his shoulders, needing something to hold on to. They move to his hair and twist the strands, emboldened when his touch wavers at the roughness behind my grasp.
I wonder if he’d like it if I wasn’t gentle with him. If I was loud and frantic, and he must, because he groans into my thigh when I press his face deeper between my legs. He scratches over my knee with sharp nails when I lift my hips, allowing him to find the perfect spot, his tongue parting me like his fingers would.
“Heaven,” he grits out, turning his head to nip the apex of my thigh. I moan, the sting a welcome surprise, and he does it a second time. “You taste like heaven. I’ve been good, right? Good enough to taste you when you come?”
Worship is right.
The sensations are overwhelming. It’s a full-body experience, gratification I feel everywhere.
Sebastian puts his mouth on me, pressing a kiss to my clit. I can hear how wet I am. I can feel it on his lips, on his cheeks, but there’s no room for embarrassment. Not when he thrusts against the cushions. Not when his hold on my leg tightens, a new ebb of pleasure building at the base of my spine.
I close my eyes, sinking into it. It’s intense, sudden, but before it can crest over me, the satisfaction disappears. It’s snuffed out, and I claw at his shoulders, aching for relief.
“No.” I tug on his necklace to get his attention. “Why did you—”
“Because.” He snaps my underwear against my waist, and I cryout. “I want your eyes on me while I make you come, Quincy. I want you to watch how easily I make you fall apart.”
The demand is primal, greedy in a way no one’s ever been with me, and submissiveness I never knew I had succumbs to his ask. I don’t blink. I don’t dare breathe, reveling when his mouth is back on me, wet and filthy.
“Better,” he mumbles, and I wonder if he’s struggling to hold it together like I am. His movements turn frantic, less sharp, but equally as wonderful. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. “You’re a vision. Fucking beautiful. Fucking mine.”
Mine.
What a terrifying, lovely word.
I’ve never been someone else’s, not like this, and the declaration is exactly what I need. Everything around me blurs. Magnificently hazy and deliriously good. It doesn’t take long, tears welling behind my eyes when he pushes two fingers inside me at the same time his tongue presses on my clit.
It’s perfect. The most wonderful burst of adrenaline I’ve ever experienced, and I fall apart with his name on my lips and his heart racing under my hand.
Sebastian is slow to pull his mouth away, easing me down with a kiss to my knee, my stomach. He sits up, holding his weight above me with his elbows, and smiles at me.
“Take these off.” I fight with his shorts and he laughs, hands covering mine to help pop open the button. “And please tell me you have a condom.”
“Put one in my wallet on a whim. Didn’t know if I’d ever get this chance with you, but wanted to be ready if I did.” He drops a kiss to my forehead and stands, working his shorts down his legs and stepping out of them. “That’s what you want?”
“It is.” I lick my lips. “Get the condom, Sebastian.”
My rationality is obliterated.
I’m in a trance when I move, taking off my shorts and briefs and riffling through my wallet for the single foil packet I stowed away before I decided to shoot my shot. I was a hopeful idiot who’s now getting his wish, and I need to make sure I do this right.
I toss the condom on the couch cushions and wrap my hand around my cock, stroking myself. I’ve been hard from the second she took her shirt off, pathetically leaking pre-cum in my briefs without any semblance of self-control. I’m convinced I don’t have any when it comes to her.
It’s not going to take much for me to finish.
I almost got there when I had my head between her legs, the friction from grinding against the couch and the noises she was making enough to tip me over the edge. I held back, restraining myself as much as I could, because I knew for as good as that felt, sinking into her is going to be even more exquisite.
“How do you like it?” I ask.
