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Rebecca pulled away from our kiss.
“You like that, don’t you?” she asked. I nodded, gulping back a growl as she continued to tease her soft hand along the length of me. Her hands were soft as an angel’s wings. Immediately, I was putty in her hands.
“Sebastian, you have to tell me what you like,” she ordered coyly.
She kissed me once more, slipping her tongue into my mouth and running her tongue along my teeth. Her strokes got longer, gentler with time as she learned the machinations of my body.
I allowed myself to become consumed by the fantasy of her. My eyes moved all over her body—her thick creamy thighs, trim waist, and heavy breasts. She was beautiful, and after tonight, she was mine.
She smirked as I squirmed, bursting with desire from her touch. Her fingers glided over my thick erection, and I groaned. I looked up, and there she was, teasing me as she worked both myself and my dick into a frenzy. She kissed me, sucking on my bottom lip.
She bit down hard, and it pushed me over the edge she had teased me to with her hands. I let out a guttural cry as the sweet sting of release rocked my body and spilled over her delicate fingers. I gasped as I returned from the rush of my climax. Rebecca grimaced as she wiped her hand on the duvet. Quickly, I excused myself to go clean up in the bathroom.
When I returned, Rebecca was resting cross-legged in the plush velvet chair next to my armoire, a satisfied look on her face.
“You’re not the only one who can have a little fun,” Rebecca quipped. She cracked her neck and stretched her arms above her head.
“If you think that’s fun, just wait. You haven’t known satisfaction until you’ve slept with Sebastian Steele,” I shot back.
“And yet, referring to yourself in the third person immediately turned me off.” Rebecca yawned and walked over to the bed. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. Albert was right; Rebecca was nothing like the women I usually slept with. She seemed utterly impervious to the moves and flirtatious banter that would have most women weak in the knees.
I expected a rebuttal, but Rebecca was passed out on top of the duvet. Slowly, I approached her and took off her shoes, silently pulling back the covers and placing them on top of her. I grabbed a glass of water and a bottle of Aspirin and set it on the polished, wooden bedside table.
I decided to let Rebecca take the master bedroom for the night. I grabbed the rest of my stuff and snuck off to the guest bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, but all I could think about was Rebecca.
Perhaps the marriage wouldn’t be miserable. Rebecca will play the doting, competent society wife and a sex kitten in the bedroom—the best of both worlds.
I consoled myself, reassured that once she was sober, we would have some real fun. She was intelligent and not nearly as innocent as I expected from a society darling.
I showered and dressed, fixing some oatmeal before starting on the work emails waiting for me in my inbox. It was Mrs. Booth’s day off, and I decided to let Rebecca sleep off her hangover. When I turned twenty-one, I woke up in an alley in Brooklyn the next day. Hopefully, Rebecca’s hangover isn’t nearly as gnarly.
Around noon, I tiptoed into the bedroom. Rebecca was curled up peacefully beneath a pile of blankets. Her eye makeup smudged down along her cheeks onto the goose-down pillow. Her long, blonde hair tangled around her head, and one shapely leg lay free of the covers.
I kneeled beside her and brushed a lock of hair away from her face.
Her eyes fluttered open—long, dark lashes surrounding wide blue eyes. She looked around the room and then pressed her fingers to her temples.
“On my God,” she muttered.
“Good afternoon.”
She sat up slowly and grabbed the glass of water off the nightstand. “I’m never drinking that much again.”
“I say that sometimes, but then the occasion to drink too many presents itself. It was your birthday, so it’s understandable.”
She blinked at me. “Why are you being so agreeable?”
I arched a brow, and she took a few gulps of the water.
I shrugged. “I mean, we’ve all been there,” I said. There was a strong possibility that I could actually like Rebecca, so I needed to be on my best behavior. If she refused to fall for my usual tricks, I would need to embark upon uncharted territory: sincerity.
“Last night you were so … upset at Jasmine and me. You were all macho.”
“I was angrier at you. Jasmine was fine. But you’re my fiancé; you at least owe me the respect not to go kissing other guys in front of me.”
She rolled her eyes and winced.
