Page 100 of Sterling Heat

“Please,” I whine, tipping my forehead to the tile while my palms flatten against the steam-drenched wall.

Sebastian runs his hand up my spine before cupping the back of my neck. He tugs me toward him and sips at my shoulder. Then he’s sliding his hands up and down my sides while nipping at my neck. His teeth drag over my flesh. His lips suck hard. His tongue draws lines along the column of my throat. His palms skim up my middle and cup my breasts.

Instantly, the let-down sensation tingles across my nipples. “Shit.”

“What?” Sebastian stills. His hands pause on my breasts.

“I’m . . .” This is so embarrassing. “I’m leaking.”

Sebastian only hums along my neck in understanding before lowering his hands and gripping my waist. “I want to make you weep elsewhere.”

He drives one hand between my thighs while the other clutches on my hip. Rocking my body, he easily slips a finger inside me. Almost immediately, a second joins the first and then he retreats, rubbing at my clit, until I’m panting against the tile.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, desperate, wanting him closer. I don’t need the orgasm as much as I need the connection. Him inside me. Us joined as one.

However, Sebastian continues stroking the sensitive nub, winding me tighter and tighter.

“Sebastian,” I groan.

“I don’t have a condom in here and I’m not stopping until you come.” He bites the juncture of my neck and shoulder hard, and my knees buckle. My palms squeak against the moist tile, unable to catch on anything for support.

“I trust you,” I tell him. We had the clean talk. He knows I haven’t been with anyone since last summer.

“Enya—” He pauses. “I’ve never been without.”

Having tipped my head forward, I close my eyes and roll my forehead against a grout line. Of course. Why am I pressuring him? “I understand.”

Then, I gasp. His smooth tip is at my entrance while his fingers work my clit. I spread my legs a little more, shamelessly enjoying the tease. He draws his solid length back and forth along my slit, massaging against my tipping point. I’m so close.

“Sugar? Are you sure?”

My lids flip open. Craning my neck so I can meet his eyes, I say, “I’m sure.” I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I want Sebastian Sylver inside me, raw and deep, and losing his mind over me like I lose mine over him.

With a swift thrust, he fills me. My breath catches at the sudden intrusion.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Never.” He’d never hurt me. I believe that wholeheartedly.

With his hand back at my hip, he tugs so my backside tips toward him. His fingers work magic at my clit while he hammers into me.

“I can’t . . .” He grunts. “It’s never . . .” He snorts. “I’m not going to last.”

I’m right there. Pressing my cheek to the tile, I bite the inside and hold back a groan as best I can, but sound still echoes around the room.

“Fuck,” Sebastian cries out. “Yes.”

He’s deliciously sliding in and out of me. Filling me. Teasing me. Quickly, a familiar sensation flutters inside me, but I question it. “Sebastian?”

“Gonna come on me, baby.”

I moan. “Oh God, please don’t stop.” He’s hitting me somewhere unseen and tapping my clit, and I’m lost in the abyss of Sebastian in me, around me. Us together.

“Yes,” he demands, driving faster. I’m nearly bent in half, my body begging him to take everything from me.

“Sugar?” he strains, so close but holding back waiting on me. Like in everything else he does, he’s considerate of me first.

“Come,” I command.