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“Oh, God,” I whispered.
Sebastian’s face was tight and his eyes were locked on mine. I found the willpower to grin. I wanted to see how long he’d put up with only getting an inch or two of me. I kept my body hovering above him and left my hand on him. I used my hand and my pussy to give him what I decided to think of as a deluxe handjob. Eighty percent hand, twenty percent of the good stuff.
I discreetly positioned my thumb around him so it rested against my clit, making each movement of my hips feel even better.
Sebastian was clearly enjoying himself, but I could sense the growing frustration. He wanted more. A dirty little thrill rose up in me as I waited to see what he’d do when he had enough waiting.
Another minute passed and he finally made a low sound from his chest, then took me by the hips and pulled me down. We both gasped as his entire length pressed into me.
I closed my eyes and sat there, drinking in the sensation of him fully inside me. Sebastian wasn’t my first, but everything about being with him felt so enhanced it wasn’t even like the same experience. It was more real. More sensual. More powerful. Just more.
I could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his cock and into my walls as I sat there, watching him.
He lifted my hips then so I was a few inches above him and started to fuck me by holding me in place and raising his hips to meet mine. I gasped. He wasn’t taking it slow. He was absolutely hungry for release, and his desperation pushed me over the edge.
I felt my own climax come as I watched his eyes. I had to close mine and fall forward while the sensations burst through me. He didn’t stop. His hands dug into my waist and his breathing was coming in quick bursts. He finally pushed up against me hard enough to nearly knock me off him and stayed there, fully buried inside me. I felt him pulse and then faintly sensed even more warmth and knew.
A slow smile spread across my face. “You know,” I said. “If you promise to wake me up like that, I think I can make an exception to my first date protocols and stay the night.”
He flipped me over and kissed me deeply. “Who said we’re done?”
38
Sebastian
Travis, Adrian, and Noah had delivered on their promise. They’d pitched their grand plan to deal with Ink House and Dennis. I had to admit the plan was fucking brilliant, but it required me to pull off one particularly tricky task. I had to get Dennis to change his plans. He wanted to blackball Kenzie, but we needed him to think he’d be better off publishing her book. I had no real clue how I’d manage that, but I was going to do my best.
I was let into Dennis’ office at Ink House headquarters in New York. Kenzie had agreed to stay back in North Carolina, partly because she was looking forward to taking a trip with Trinity to go meet with Astaire. That was for the last layer of the plan, but if I failed here, it’d be a wasted effort.
Dennis had the place lined with relics from his hobby of African safaris. There were tribal masks, animal trophies, and guns all over the wall.
Dennis was behind his desk with his hands templed in front of his face like some sort of B-movie villain. He was balding, in his late forties, and his most notable feature was an incredibly long face. His posture and long face had always reminded me of a vulture, and I supposed that was fitting, given the circumstances.
“I hope you’re here to tell me we have an understanding,” Dennis said. He had an almost exaggerated New York accent.
“Well,” I said. “I was here to tell you what a huge mistake you’re making, actually.”
Dennis’ expression darkened. “Don’t fuck with me, Sebastian. You’ve been blowing me off for months now. We both know you weren’t going to write shit for me unless I found a way to motivate you. Let’s be adults and agree this is in both our best interests.”
“The part you’re wrong about is thinking Kenzie’s story is going to just die quietly because you lean on my agent. Have you actually read it?” I asked.
Dennis hesitated. “I don’t need to read it. I just need you to write what you promised you would write. You do that, and your little girlfriend can do whatever she likes with her story. But until you give me what’s mine, she’s buried.”
“All we need to do is get that story in the hands of enough publishers. You can lean on them, but once they see what they have, they’ll cash their check and risk burning a bridge with you.”
