Chapter 19
Sebastian
She stands before me in nothing but a simple black bra and leggings, and I forget how to breathe. Taking in the gentle curve of her waist, the soft swell of her breasts against black lace, and the defiant tilt of her chin that tells me Mia Phillips isn't submitting, she's challenging.
"Beautiful," I murmur, the word inadequate for what I'm seeing.
I move toward her with deliberate steps, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath.
My hand lifts to her collarbone, fingertips hovering just above the purplish mark.
The visual evidence of my claiming. When I finally make contact, tracing the outline of the bruise, she shivers beneath my touch.
"Does it hurt?" I ask, my voice low.
"No," she whispers. It’s her first word since she threw down the gauntlet with her shirt.
Brushing my thumb over the mark, I apply just enough pressure to make her breath catch. "Good."
Then I’m on the move again, fingers traveling up the delicate column of her throat, feeling her pulse jump against my touch.
I trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her ear and the sensitive skin behind it.
Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, then snap open again, like she's afraid to miss anything.
"I've dreamt about touching you," I admit, my hand continuing its exploration down her bare arm, over the curve of her shoulder, along her collarbone. "Fantasized about mapping every inch of your skin until I know it better than my own."
My touch trails lower, between her breasts, following the center line of her body. When my fingers reach the waistband of her leggings, I pause.
"Did you touch yourself?" I ask.
Her eyebrow arches in a silent challenge. Not a yes, but not exactly a no either.
Tucking two fingers beneath her chin, I force her to meet my gaze. "I need your words, Mia. Did you touch yourself?"
She inhales sharply, the rise of her chest pushing her breasts against the black lace that contains them. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, a gesture so unconsciously sensual it makes my cock twitch against the confines of my jeans.
"No," she finally says as a pretty flush spreads across her cheeks. "I didn't touch myself."
Something warm and possessive unfurls in my chest. "All night? All day? Not once?"
"Not once." Her eyes hold mine. "Though not for lack of wanting to."
Pride and satisfaction course through me. She followed my command, even without knowing if I would ever know. Even without understanding why it mattered. She gave me that control willingly.
I lean forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Good girl," I murmur against her skin.
Her breath catches at the words, a full-body shiver running through her. Interesting. I file that reaction away for later exploration.
Pulling back, my gaze slowly travels down her body again, lingering on the places I intend to claim with my mouth, my hands, my teeth. The thought of her spread out beneath me, of finally tasting her, makes my blood run hot.
"Go to your bedroom," I tell her. "Take everything off and wait for me on the bed."
For a moment, she doesn't move, her gaze just searches mine. I stand perfectly still, letting her find whatever she needs. This has to be her choice. Her surrender has to be given, not taken.
Then something shifts in her expression. A decision made. She nods once, a small, determined movement, before turning toward the hallway.
I remain rooted to the spot, counting my breaths to calm my racing heart.
Because this isn't just about sex. It's about trust. About proving to both of us that I can be trusted with her body, her pleasure, her surrender.
My cock strains against my zipper, an insistent reminder of the need I've been fighting since I first saw her. But this isn't about my release. First, I need to show her exactly what she's been missing. Need to make her understand why waiting was worth it.
Sucking in a deep breath, I make my way to her kitchen hoping to find what I’m looking for. It’s not long before I find a small bowl and fill it with ice. Then I make my way down the hallway toward her room.
I pause at her door, which stands slightly ajar, and take a deep breath to center myself, to ensure I'm completely in control before I step inside. Then I push it open.
My steps falter and the bowl nearly slips from my fingers.
Mia sits perched on the edge of her bed, gloriously naked.
Her wild red curls cascade over one shoulder, partially obscuring one breast but leaving the other exposed—small, perfect, with a dusky pink nipple already pebbled in the cool air.
Her skin is like porcelain in the soft glow of her bedside lamp and I notice that the freckles I've been obsessing over scatter across her shoulders, chest, and thighs.
"Fuck," I breathe, the word a prayer and a curse combined.
She looks up, eyes wide and uncertain. "I didn't know how you wanted me," she admits, voice small, vulnerable in a way I've never heard from her before.
The admission—this show of uncertainty from a woman who faces life with such fierce determination—nearly buckles my knees. Something protective and possessive claws at my chest, a physical ache to both shelter and devour her.
"Like this," I tell her, setting the bowl on her nightstand before approaching the bed. "Exactly like this."
Standing over her, I don't touch her yet, I just drink in the sight of her. The gentle slope of her shoulders. The delicate line of her collarbone. The soft curve of her breasts. The flat plane of her stomach.
"Lie back." The words scrape like gravel up my throat. "Spread your legs for me."
She hesitates for just a heartbeat before complying, shifting back on the bed and lowering herself until she's flat on her back. Her legs part slowly, a blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck as she exposes herself to my gaze.
I crawl onto the bed, careful not to touch her yet. The bowl of ice comes with me, placed within easy reach. Mia watches with wide eyes as I select the first cube, holding it between my thumb and forefinger.
"Cold first," I warn her, hovering the ice just above the hollow of her throat. "Then warm. Trust me."
She nods, a quick, jerky movement and I lower the ice to her skin.
The gasp that escapes her lips at first contact is everything I hoped for.
Her back arches slightly, goosebumps erupting across her flesh as I trace the cube along her collarbone, following the path my fingers took earlier.
Water melts in rivulets down her neck, pooling briefly before sliding toward the sheets.
I follow the ice with my mouth, my tongue hot against the cold trail it leaves behind. Her skin pebbles beneath the dual sensation and her breathing turns ragged.
"Sebastian," she whispers.
"I know," I tell her as I select another cube. This one I trace around her left breast, spiraling inward toward the peak but never quite reaching it. When she whimpers and her hips shift restlessly against the mattress, I replace the ice with my mouth, sucking her nipple between my lips.
The contrast of temperatures pulls a broken sound from her throat. Her hands fly to my shoulders, nails digging in through my shirt. I bite down gently, just enough to make her gasp, then soothe the sting with my tongue before moving to repeat the process on her right breast.
Here, I leave another mark, sucking the soft flesh at the underside until I know there will be evidence of my claiming tomorrow.
Her hands are in my hair, fingers tangling in the strands and tugging with increasing urgency as I work my way down her body. Ice cube after ice cube, followed by the heat of my mouth, until her skin is a roadmap of sensation.
When I reach her pussy, I pause, looking up the length of her body to meet her eyes. What I see there—desire, trust, and desperate need—makes my cock throb painfully. I want nothing more than to free myself, push inside her, and claim her completely.
Instead, I reach for one more ice cube. This one I place in my own mouth, letting it melt against my tongue as I lower myself between her legs.
"Oh shit," she breathes, understanding dawning in her eyes a moment before I make contact.
The first taste of her is a revelation and I can’t help but groan against her skin. I bite back smile when the vibration makes her hips jerk upward. But I need her still. Gripping her thighs hard enough to leave marks, I hold her open as I explore with deliberate, measured strokes.
The ice has mostly melted against my tongue by the time I find her clit, swollen and desperate for attention.
When I close my lips around it, sucking gently while the last of the cold lingers in my mouth, Mia cries out, her back arching off the bed so violently I have to use my forearm across her hips to keep her still.
"Sebastian, please…" she gasps, her voice breaking on my name.
I pull back just enough to speak against her heated flesh. "You taste like heaven," I murmur. "Sweet and perfect and absolutely fucking addictive."
Her thighs tremble under my hands as I return my attention to her clit, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention that has her writhing against my mouth.
Each sound she makes—every whimper, every broken plea—goes straight to my cock, but I ignore my own desperate need.
This is about her. About showing her what she's been missing, about what I can give her if she trusts me completely.
"I could stay here for hours," I tell her, pressing kisses to her inner thighs between words. "Could worship this pretty pussy until you're sobbing my name."
"Please," she whispers again, fingers threading through my hair. "I need…I can't…"
"What do you need, Mia?" I ask, though I can see exactly what she needs in the way her hips chase my mouth, in the flush spreading across her chest, in the way her breathing has turned to desperate pants. "Tell me."
"I need to come." The words tear from her throat. "Please, Sebastian, I need to come so badly."
The raw desperation in her voice nearly unravels me. Not yet, I tell myself. Not until I've taken her apart completely.
I seal my lips around her clit again, this time with purpose, sucking and licking with increasing intensity. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, her body tensing as she approaches the edge I've been driving her toward.
Just as I feel her start to pulse against my tongue, just as her breathing turns to sharp gasps and her thighs begin to shake with the onset of her orgasm, I pull away.
"No!" she cries out, her eyes flying open to stare down at me with wild desperation. "Sebastian, please, I was so close—"
"I know," I say, pressing a gentle kiss to her hip bone as she trembles. "But not yet. Not until I say."
Her chest heaves as she tries to process what I've just done. "That's not fair," she whispers.
"Fair has nothing to do with this," I reply, moving up her body until I can capture her mouth in a deep kiss. "This is about control. About trust. About proving that I can give you more pleasure than you've ever imagined, but only when you surrender to me completely."
She stares up at me, eyes bright with desperate need. For a moment, I think she might fight me, might demand her release. Instead, she nods, a small, shaky movement that tells me everything I need to know.
"Good girl," I murmur against her lips, and feel her shiver at the praise. "Now let me show you what happens when you trust me completely."
I slide back down her body, positioning myself between her thighs once more. This time, when I put my mouth on her, I don't hold back. I devour her with single-minded focus, using every technique I know to drive her higher and higher.
And when she finally shatters and her orgasm crashes over her with an intensity that has her screaming my name and clawing at the sheets, I don't stop. I work her through it, drawing out every last tremor until she's boneless and gasping.
For a moment, I simply rest my cheek against her inner thigh, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she comes back to herself. Then I press a gentle kiss to the same spot before moving up to lie beside her.
Her eyes are still closed, her lips parted as she catches her breath.
"You did so well," I murmur, brushing damp curls from her forehead. "So perfect for me, Mia."
Her eyes flutter open at that, still dazed but seeking mine. The vulnerability there makes my chest ache. I gather her close and press a kiss to her temple.
"You gave me your trust," I tell her softly, solemnly. "And I won't break it. Not ever."