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“I know what you need right now,” he says. I lick his thumb, satisfied when that makes his gaze darken. “You need to be overwhelmed, and you need to feel me deep, and I figured the best way to make that happen would be to stuff a toy up your pretty cunt while I bury my cock in that perky fucking bottom I can’t stop staring at.”
He emphasizes that last bit with a slap against my ass, hard enough I feel the sting. I gasp, rocking down against his lap as I screw my eyes shut. I can’t look at him right now; it’d be like staring directly into the sun.
He tilts my face up. “Open those beautiful golden eyes for me.”
I listen, in part because no one has ever called my eyes golden before, and shiver. His eyes are verdant, yet he’s the one complimenting mine. My stomach somersaults again as blush rises to my cheeks.
“Is that what you want, Mia Angel? Did I get it right?”
“Yes,” I say. “Fuck, yes, I want it. I need it.”
He rewards me with another kiss, long and lingering. I indulge it, but before he can work on getting us out of the car, I reach around for the handle and swing the door open. I slide out, barely managing to avoid the steering wheel, and steady myself for half a second before taking off running.
“Mia!”
I hope he hears my laughter. I race up the porch stairs, unlock the door in record time, and slam it shut.
I’m halfway to the second floor when Sebastian bursts in. I freeze on the stairs like a rabbit being stared down by a fox. He looks like he’s torn between growling at me and laughing, so I just give him a little wave before bolting up the rest of the stairs.
I hear him thunder after me. He catches up right as I’m opening his bedroom door, shutting it firmly and pressing me against it. I moan at the feel of his body against mine, the weight and solidity of it. He’s right, I need this. I needhim. I’ve never been with anyone who can take me out of my own head the way he can, and right now, it’s all I’m craving. I want to think about nothing but him and how well we fit together. No past, no future—just now, right here, his touch sparking a fire in my body. I wriggle onto my tiptoes and kiss him. I earned this, after the work I put in today.
“What the hell was that?” he says against my lips.
I pull him even closer. “I felt like racing.”
“Racing,” he repeats. “You totally cheated.”
“But you caught me anyway.” I loop my arms around his neck, dragging him into another firm kiss. “I like that you caught me.”
Something softens in his gaze. He fumbles for the doorknob without moving his body away from mine and walks us into his bedroom. He swoops in and picks me up before I can escape, depositing me on the bed and spreading out alongside me.
I curl into his side, finding his lips and the hem of his shirt all at once. We don’t bother to take our time undressing; in about thirty seconds, our clothes litter the floor. I reach between us and give his cock a slow twist, relishing in his shudder.
“I liked catching you,” he murmurs as he cups my face with both hands. He kisses my temple, my cheeks, and finally my mouth, his tongue teasing the seam until I open up. “I liked that you let me.”
“Fuck me,” I whisper. I swipe my thumb against the head of his cock to make him hiss. “Just like you said. Give it all to me.”
He rolls away long enough to root around in his nightstand drawer for lube, a condom, and Cleo, which pretty much lives in his bedroom now. When I pull him back into my arms, we make out for a few minutes, kissing until we run out of breath before diving in again. It’s comfortable, as natural as breathing, our bodies slotting together as though someone carved them from the same piece of wood. I can’t remember ever being this comfortable in bed with another person, or as trusting.
“Elbows and knees,” he whispers eventually, emphasizing the order with a little bite against the underside of my breast. “Spread yourself open for me, sweetheart.”
When I’m in position, he presses a kiss to the top of my spine, stroking his fingers between my legs a few times, getting them wet. Then his hand, wet with lubricant and my slick, traces down my ass. I turn my head to the side, breathing against the pillow. I’m at his mercy, but I feel nothing but anticipation, wanting more of his touch. He slaps my bottom a few times with his dry hand, dragging out more moans. Sebastian’s a nice guy, and I love that about him, but right now, he’s tapping into that intense, commanding side he works with on the baseball field—and the kitchen—and it’s sexy as hell.
“We’re alone in the house,” he says, emphasizing that with another spank. “I want to hear you. Give me everything you have.”
I let myself get louder as he rubs his wet fingertips against my asshole. When he pushes in with one finger, slowly but firmly, I gasp, fisting my hands in the sheets.
“Fuck,” I whine.
“Relax for me,” he says. “Like last time, my good girl.”
The memory hits me like a train. Way back in March, we showered together and made out against the counter with my hand pressed to the fogged-up mirror. When we were both shivering, he brought me to bed, and my wet hair soaked into my pillow as he rimmed me, then fucked my ass. The vulnerability of that moment brought me right to the brink of tears.
I don’t know if this will bring me back there, but part of me hopes it does. If I’m going to cry in front of anyone, I want it to be Sebastian.
He stretches me carefully, murmuring praise all the while, his other hand rubbing my hip soothingly. His fingers feel so fucking big, spreading me in a way that’s both strange and wonderful. My clit is throbbing, begging for attention, and the insides of my thighs are sticky with my own slick. I try to rub my clit to take the edge off, but he pulls my hand away.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, rubbing it for me.
