Page 55 of Hate To Be Mine

My blouse joined his shirt on the floor. Then my bra. He took a second to look at my bare chest before his mouth was on my breast. I gasped, my head dropping back against the wall and my hands fisting in his hair and holding him against my chest.

“Bedroom,” I managed.

We stumbled toward it, shedding clothes along the way. My pants. His shorts. Everything. Until we were naked and falling onto his bed in a tangle of limbs and desperate touches.

I ran my hands over his chest and abs. I had my hands on Sebastian Blackwell. After watching him shirtless today, I had absolutely fantasized about this moment. I couldn’t believe how hard he was.

Every muscle was defined, rippling under my palms.

His mouth moved from my breast to my collarbone, trailing hot kisses across my skin. I dug my nails into his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more contact. His weight settled over me. I felt every inch of his hard body pressing against mine.

If I was in some wild dream, I never wanted to wake up.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against my neck.

I wanted to argue. I wasn’t beautiful, not like the women he usually dated. But then his hand slid between my thighs and I forgot how to form words.

His fingers found me wet and ready. I gasped as he stroked me, learning what made me moan and where to touch to make my hips arch off the bed. He was attentive in a way I hadn’t expected, watching my face, paying attention to every reaction.

“Tell me what you like,” he said.

“That,” I managed. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His fingers worked me with maddening precision, building pressure that coiled tighter and tighter in my core. I reached down to wrap my hand around him. He groaned, his hips jerking forward into my grip.

He was thick and hard and perfect. I stroked him, matching the rhythm of his fingers inside me. We moved together, giving and taking in equal measure.

“I need to be inside you,” he said, his forehead pressed against mine. “Please tell me you want that too.”

“Yes.” The word came out breathless, desperate. “Yes, I want that.”

He reached over to the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for a condom. I watched him roll it on, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs.

Then he was positioning himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He looked down at me, his blue eyes dark with desire.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he said.

“Shut up and fuck me, Sebastian.”

A grin flashed across his face, and then he was pushing inside. I gasped at the stretch. The overwhelming sensation of him filling me completely.

He groaned, dropping his head to my shoulder. “Fuck, Bernadette. You feel incredible.”

He started to move slowly at first, letting me adjust. But I didn’t want slow. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him deeper, harder.

“Not going to break,” I said.

That was all the permission he needed. His pace increased with powerful thrusts that drove me up the bed. I clung to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, losing myself in the rhythm. I gripped his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex under my palms as he drove into me again and again. Every thrust sent sparks of pleasure racing through my body. I’d had sex before, but it had never been like this. Never this intense and all-consuming. It was utterly perfect.

Sebastian’s mouth found mine again, kissing me with a hunger that matched my own. His tongue swept against mine as his hips kept that relentless rhythm. I moaned into his mouth, my nails raking down his back.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned against my lips. “So perfect.”

I wanted to tell him he felt perfect too, but words were beyond me. All I could do was hold on and feel. The pressure building inside me was almost unbearable. I was climbing toward something I’d never quite reached before, something that felt bigger and more powerful than anything I’d experienced.

He went up one elbow, shifting the angle and hit that spot that had me seeing stars. I cried out, my back arching off the bed.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go for me.”