Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Elle
As he leads me into the private suite, my heart pounds, my anticipation heightened by the faint scent of leather and wood that lingers in the air. The room is warm, intimate, the soft light catching on the champagne flutes waiting on the side table. But it’s not the setting that holds my attention – it’s him.
Seb closes the door behind us with a quiet click. He turns to face me, his eyes dark with intent, the weight of his gaze pressing into me.
“Elle,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, “tonight, I’m going to give you what you’ve been craving.”
Heat floods my body at his words. He doesn’t ask. He knows.
“Are you ready to trust me?” His question isn’t casual – it’s a challenge, an invitation, and a promise all at once.
I swallow hard, my throat dry. I nod, but it’s not enough for him.
“Words, Elle,” he says, stepping closer, his voice like velvet wrapping around me.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“Louder.”
“Yes,” I say again, stronger this time, the certainty in my own voice surprising me.
“Good girl.”
The praise sends a rush of heat straight to my core, and I can’t stop the shiver that races through me, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small length of black silk.
“Turn around,” he says.
My breath catches, but I obey, my movements slow and deliberate. The air shifts as he steps behind me, his presence so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. He slips the silk over my eyes, tying it securely but not uncomfortably tight.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Elle?” His breath is warm against my ear, his hands ghosting over my arms but never touching.
“What?” I manage to whisper.
“Strength. Beauty. Desire. But most of all, I see a woman who’s ready to surrender.”
A shiver races down my spine. His hands settle on my hips, grounding me, but only for a moment.
“Stay still,” he orders, and I nod, my senses already heightened by the loss of sight.
The sound of his footsteps moving across the room is intoxicating. Each small noise – the rustle of fabric, the clink of something metallic – fuels my anticipation.
“You’ve kept yourself guarded for so long,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to anymore. Not here. Not with me.”
His hands skim up my sides, slow and deliberate, the heat of his touch bleeding through the thin fabric of my dress. I can’t see him, but I can feel his gaze, heavy and appreciative, raking over every inch of me. The soft zip of the back of my dress fills the air, a sound so quiet, yet impossibly loud in the silence of the room.
There’s the softest intake of breath and then a beat of silence.
“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the shell of my ear, “how stunning you look right now?”
The dress loosens, slipping from my shoulders, the straps trailing down my arms. He doesn’t rush, letting the fabric fall in a slow cascade to pool around my feet. The air kisses my bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat simmering in his voice.
“God, Elle.” His words are reverent, almost a growl. “This is what you wore for me?”
I swallow hard, my senses on overdrive. “I thought you might like it.”
“Like it?” His hands trail down my arms, grazing the edge of the lace bra and panties I’d chosen, delicate black with subtle pink forget-me-not embroidery. “I don’t just like it. You’ve ruined me for anything else.”
The praise washes over me, warm and heady. I can hear the shift in his breathing, can feel the tension in the room thickening as his hands explore, gentle but firm, mapping every curve, every dip of my body.
“You’re exquisite,” he says, his voice deep and unwavering. “Every inch of you. I want you to feel it – how beautiful, how perfect you are.”
His fingertips trace the edge of my panties, and I can’t suppress the shiver that races through me. “Are you ready for me?” he asks, his voice both a demand and a promise.
“Yes,” I whisper, trembling.
The first touch of rope against my skin is unexpected and electrifying. Seb’s hands are careful and precise as he begins wrapping it around me, the rough texture contrasting with the smoothness of his fingers. He works in silence, the rhythmic pull and knotting of the rope grounding me in the moment.
“Every knot, every loop,” he murmurs, “is a choice. You can stop me whenever you want.”
“I won’t,” I reply, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice.
“Good.” His approval is a balm to my nerves.
When he’s done, the rope is snug but not restrictive, framing my body in a way that feels both vulnerable and powerful.
“Perfect,” he says, his voice thick with admiration. “You’re perfect.”
I feel the warmth of his breath before his lips graze the side of my neck. The kiss is soft at first, almost tender, but it deepens quickly, his teeth scraping against my skin, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me.
“Seb…” My voice is shaky, a mix of need and disbelief at how completely he’s unraveling me.
His hand slips around to cup my chin, tilting my head back slightly. “Trust me, Elle. Let go.”
His fingers skim up my ribs, trailing over the lace of my bra before circling the swell of my breasts. He takes his time, teasing, dragging out the moment until I’m biting my lip to keep from begging.
“You’re trembling already,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. “Such a sensitive little thing. Is this what you wanted, Elle? For me to touch you like this?”
“Yes,” I whisper, the word catching in my throat as his thumbs brush over the lace-covered peaks of my nipples.
“Not good enough,” he says, his tone hardening, a delicious edge of command. His thumbs press firmer this time, rolling my nipples between the fabric, sending a sharp, intoxicating jolt through me. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me properly.”
“Yes, Sir,” I manage, my breath hitching.
“That’s better.” He slips his fingers beneath the lace, finally finding bare skin. His touch is firm but deliberate, coaxing, teasing, until I’m arching into his hands without thinking.
His fingers pinch, just enough to make me gasp, the sensation sharp and electric, before it melts into something warmer, deeper. My head tilts back, lips parting, a soft moan escaping me.
“That’s it,” he croons, his tone darkly indulgent. “Look at you. So beautiful, so perfect, falling apart for me already.”
His thumbs circle my nipples now, slow and torturous, the pressure building with each deliberate motion. He pinches again, harder this time, and my knees nearly give out, the tension winding through my body like a live wire.
“Do you want more?” he asks, his voice dripping with authority, the command sending a thrill straight to my core.
“Please,” I say, the desperation clear in my tone, my voice trembling with need.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin, as he presses a kiss to my shoulder, his teeth grazing lightly. “Then take it.”
The first strike of his hand against my bare skin pulls a gasp from my lips. The sting is sharp but fades quickly into warmth, a heat that spreads through me, igniting something deep inside.
“Again,” I whisper, surprising myself.
His chuckle is dark, low, and full of promise. “That’s my girl.”
The next strike is harder, and this time, I moan, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Seb doesn’t stop, alternating between firm spanks and soft caresses, the rhythm dizzying and intoxicating.
“You take this so beautifully,” he says, his voice a mix of pride and lust. “Do you feel it? The way your body responds? This is you, Elle. This is what you’ve been craving.”
“Yes,” I gasp, the word tumbling out without hesitation.
“Say it again.”
“Yes,” I cry, louder this time, my voice filled with need.
The rope, the spanking, the blindfold – it all blends together, a symphony of sensation that leaves me trembling on the edge.
Seb’s fingers trail over the heated skin of my thighs, his touch feather-light yet commanding, grounding me, even as the world around me dissolves into sensation. His hand cups my breast again, his thumb brushing over my nipple, raw and sensitive from his earlier teasing.
“Feel how your body responds to me,” he murmurs, his voice like a caress, each word dripping with authority. “Every tremble, every gasp. It’s all for me.”
My breath hitches as his fingers pinch harder, the sharp sting a counterpoint to the rhythmic strikes of his other hand against my skin. Each spank sends a wave of heat through me, the line between pain and pleasure blurring until they become indistinguishable.
“You’re so sensitive, Elle,” he says, his tone dark with satisfaction. “Every sound you make, every way your body moves – it’s like you were made for this,”
My body arches involuntarily, seeking him, needing him. I can feel the flush spreading over my skin, a physical manifestation of the fire he’s igniting in me.
“Please,” I whisper, the word breaking on a moan as his fingers tweak and pull on my nipple in a way that makes my head spin.
“Please, what?” he demands, his hand pausing mid-motion.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, the desperation in my voice raw and unfiltered.
“Good girl,” he praises, and then he strikes again, harder this time, the sting sharper and more pronounced. My body jerks, the pain giving way to an intense rush of pleasure that leaves me gasping for air.
The sensation builds, each strike sending me higher, until I’m trembling, every nerve ending alive, my body teetering on the edge. His fingers twist my nipple sharply, and the combination of pain and his dark, commanding presence pushes me over.
The moment crests, and my world fractures into something untouchable, something infinite.
“That’s it,” Seb says, his voice thick with pride and hunger. “Let go for me, Elle. Let me see you come apart.”
The release is overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation crashing through me, leaving me breathless and undone. My cry echoes in the room, raw and guttural, as every inch of me shatters under his touch.
“Again, angel. Give me more.”
I do, again and again, as his hands continue to guide me through the storm, each touch, each word pulling me deeper into him, into us.
The sensation crashes over me again, and I lose my breath. It’s like being struck by lightning, the jolt searing through every nerve ending, setting my skin aflame. My body clenches, thighs trembling, toes curling against the floor. A hot, pulsing ache unfurls low in my belly, rippling outward like a stone dropped in water, each wave stronger than the last.
I can’t think, can’t see, the blindfold turning the world into an expanse of darkness lit only by sensation. My chest heaves, desperate for air, as heat pools and spreads, filling me to the brim until it spills over.
Sound warps, every gasp, every groan of mine, and every murmur of Seb’s praise, muffled and distorted, as if coming from underwater. The rush of my pulse drowns everything else, a steady thrum in my ears that matches the beat of my heart.
The air feels electric, heavy against my skin, cool where it kisses the places Seb hasn’t touched, blazing hot where his hands have left their mark. My legs threaten to buckle, but the rope holds me firm, a grounding anchor as my body spasms again and again, caught in the relentless ebb and flow of pleasure.
Sparks of sensation shoot through me, concentrated in my nipples and the sting of his strikes. It’s too much and yet not enough, each contraction wringing more from me than I thought I could give. I am utterly undone, weightless and shattering, falling into pieces I never want to put back together.
And through it all, his voice, a lifeline in the storm. “That’s it, Elle. Feel it. Take it all. You’re mine.” His words wash over me, soft and commanding, pulling me back even as I fall deeper, grounding me in the safety of his hands.
“Bas, please!” I cry once I finally catch my breath. “I need you. I need to feel you inside me. Don’t make me wait any longer.” I don’t care that I’m begging, that I must sound unhinged in my desperation. Tears well in my eyes and I blink hard behind the blindfold to keep them from falling. My legs feel like they’re about to give out and I just want to lie down and have sex already.
Seb growls low in his throat, a sound so raw it sends a fresh shiver racing down my spine. His hands find my hips, steadying me, and he presses his body flush against mine. The heat of him, the sheer power in his frame, is overwhelming, and yet it’s everything I need.
“You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” His voice is dark, teasing, the edge of his dominance still razor-sharp. His fingers dig into my skin, just enough to make me gasp. “Begging so sweetly. Do you know how much I love hearing you like this?”
“Please, Seb,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’m yours. I need you to take me. Now.”
He chuckles, the sound laced with satisfaction. “Good girl. Keep begging. Let me hear exactly how much you want me.”
“Please,” I plead again, louder this time. “I need you, Bas. I’m aching for you. I can’t take it anymore.”
He hums approvingly, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “That’s what I like to hear. But you don’t give the orders tonight, Elle. I do.”
I whimper, my body trembling, barely holding itself upright. He must sense it because his hands slide down to the backs of my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrap around his waist, and I feel the press of him against me, hard and insistent through his pants.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down my neck. “So ready. I can feel you soaking through the lace.”
“Then take me,” I beg again, my head falling back as his teeth scrape over my pulse point. “Please, Bas. I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”
“Patience, my little temptress,” he says, his voice molten. “You’ve waited this long. What’s a few seconds or minutes more? Or maybe I should make you wait hours…”
I open my mouth to protest, but he silences me with his lips, claiming mine in a kiss so deep, so consuming, it steals what little composure I have left. His tongue tangles with mine, the kiss wild and unrelenting, leaving me breathless and dizzy.
I feel the shift as he carries me to the bed, laying me down with tenderness. His hands move swiftly, undoing the ropes that frame my body, his touch deliberate and reverent.
“I need to see all of you,” he says, almost to himself, his fingers tracing the indents the ropes left on my skin. “Every mark. Every part of you that’s mine.”
“Yours,” I whisper, and the word feels like a vow, an anchor as he strips off the last barriers of fabric between us.
The cool air kisses my overheated skin, and I shiver, not from the cold, but from the anticipation coiling low in my belly. I reach for him blindly, finding his shoulders, his chest, his hair, needing to touch him, to pull him down to me.
“Elle,” he growls, his control finally snapping. “I’m going to take your blindfold off now. I want you to watch. Keep your eyes on me the entire time. I want you to know it’s me ruining you.”
I barely have a moment to process his words before the blindfold is gone, the world flooding back in a haze of low light and him – Sebastian, all sharp angles and raw intensity, his gaze locked on mine like he’s daring me to look away. I blink against the sudden brightness, my breath hitching at the sheer hunger carved into his features.
His fingers brush my cheek, lingering, before they trail down to my jaw, tilting my face toward him. “Don’t close your eyes,” he murmurs, the command soft but firm. “I want to see everything. I want you to see everything.”
I nod weakly, my lips parting as he shifts lower, his lips trailing fire down my neck, over my collarbone, across my ribs. Each press of his mouth leaves a mark that feels like a brand, claiming me in a way that words never could.
When he reaches my thighs, he pauses, his hands spreading them wider. The cool air brushes against my slick skin, making me tremble. His gaze locks on mine again, dark and unyielding, as he leans in, his breath ghosting over the heat of me.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his voice roughened with desire. “So perfect. Do you know what you do to me?”
I shake my head, unable to form words, every nerve in my body attuned to the way his breath teases my most sensitive parts.
“I’ll show you,” he promises, and then his mouth is on me.
The first touch of his tongue is pure electricity, a slow, deliberate stroke between my folds that has my back arching off the bed. He hums in approval, the vibration sending another ripple of pleasure through me. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as his mouth works me over, licking and sucking with a precision that leaves me gasping.
“Seb!” I cry out, my hands fisting in the sheets. He looks up at me, his lips glistening, and the sight alone nearly sends me over the edge.
“Eyes on me,” he reminds me, his voice dark and commanding.
His fingers slide into me, curling in a way that has me seeing stars, and he watches my every reaction, his gaze locked on mine like he’s cataloging every moan, every tremble, every shattered breath.
The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers is too much, a perfect torment that has me teetering on the brink of release. He sucks on my clit, the pressure just right, and I cry out again, my body writhing beneath him.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against me, his voice a low rumble. “Come for me, Elle. Let me see you fall apart again.”
I can’t hold back. The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, my vision going white as my body convulses with pleasure. I can feel him watching me the entire time, his gaze burning into mine, as if he’s drawing strength from my surrender. He continues to lick and suck, kiss and curl his fingers in that delicious way, drawing my orgasm on and on and on.
When I finally come down, trembling and breathless, he presses a soft kiss to my inner thigh, his fingers easing out of me with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of what he’s just done.
“You’re stunning when you come undone,” he says, his voice a reverent whisper. “And I’m not done with you yet.”
Seb stands, his body a beautiful, powerful silhouette in the dim light as he slowly begins to strip. Every movement is deliberate, pulling my attention to him with a magnetic force I can’t resist. First, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing the hard, sculpted lines of his chest, covered in lines and whirls of ink. I itch to trace them with my fingers, lips and tongue. The muscles shift beneath his skin as he pulls the shirt off, tossing it carelessly aside. My eyes trace every inch of him, from the sharp angles of his shoulders to the defined curve of his abdomen.
Then his belt, the heavy click of it echoing in the room as he slides it off, making me shiver with desire – I long to feel the painful kiss of the leather. Followed by his pants. Each piece of clothing falling away only brings him closer to me – naked, raw, and impossibly perfect. I swallow, my throat dry, the hunger inside me rising with every passing second.
He catches me staring, a smirk playing on his lips, and I can’t look away. His cognac eyes gleam with an intensity that sends a thrill straight to my core. Without a word, he walks to the side table where the champagne flutes sit, picking up the bottle with a casual ease. He pours and takes a sip, the liquid gliding down his throat, his gaze never leaving mine. The sight of him drinking, so composed and confident, stirs something deeper in me.
“Want some?” he asks, his voice low and husky, dripping with suggestion.
I nod, barely able to find my voice, my need for him escalating with every passing second.
Seb takes another drink, savoring the liquid before walking toward me. He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a brief, tantalising kiss. The taste of champagne lingers on his lips, a promise of what’s to come. Then, without warning, he pulls back, his hand tilting my chin up as he pours the cold liquid into my mouth.
I gasp as the cold champagne hits my tongue, the shock of it mixing with the heat of everything else that’s coursing through me. The liquid is bitter and sweet all at once, and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me as it slips down my throat. It’s a strange contrast – the coldness of the drink against the warmth of his body, the sweet burn of the alcohol mingling with the fire in my veins.
I swallow eagerly, eyes locked on his, feeling both vulnerable and empowered in this moment, my senses heightened. When I finish, Seb presses his lips to mine again, his kiss deeper this time, the taste of champagne mingling with his own, intoxicating in a way that has me clinging to him.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire, and I can see the flicker of satisfaction in them. And then he’s there, his body pressing against mine, his weight grounding me, his hands cradling my face. “Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my hips arching toward him. “Please, Bas. Don’t make me wait anymore.”
He positions himself, the head of his cock nudging at my entrance, and I moan, my body straining toward him. He pauses, just for a heartbeat, long enough to make me feel the full weight of the moment.
“Mine,” he murmurs, his voice rough and full of promise.
“Yours,” I echo, and then he pushes inside, filling me completely, utterly, perfectly.
I was made for him.
Seb’s movement is slow at first, each inch of him stretching me in the most exquisite way, filling the empty space that’s been yearning for him. Always him.
The heat between us intensifies, a pulsing rhythm that matches the frantic beat of my heart. I can’t help but gasp, my fingers digging into his back as I adjust to the fullness of him. The pressure is overwhelming, yet it’s a pressure I crave, an ache that settles deep in my core.
He gives me a moment to adjust, his breath ragged as he pulls back slightly, his gaze never leaving mine. His hands slide from my face to my hips, gripping me with a possessive fierceness that sends another wave of heat crashing through me. “You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking perfect around me.”
I whimper, my body trembling in anticipation, and then he begins to move, slowly at first, teasing, drawing it out. His thrusts are deliberate, the friction of him inside me sending shockwaves through every nerve. Each movement builds on the last, a slow burn that ignites in my veins. My body arches toward him, desperate for more, but he pulls back again, denying me the release I crave.
“Tell me what you want, Elle,” he commands, his voice low and thick with lust.
“I want you,” I pant, my voice breathless, desperate. “I want you to make me come. Please. Fill me. Stretch me. Fuck me.”
The tension in the air thickens, his body holding me firmly in place as he increases the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. The sensation of him inside me is everything, overwhelming, intoxicating. My hips move in sync with his, the desperate, frantic need building with each stroke, each flick of his wrist, each caress of his lips.
“You’re mine,” Seb growls, his voice rough and filled with possessiveness. “And I’m never letting you go. You wanted to be ruined, Elle. But it’s you that’s ruined me.”
The words are like a spark, lighting the fire within me. I can feel it – the heat, the tension coiling low in my belly, ready to snap. My body tightens, every nerve alive and screaming for release. And then, with a final, deep thrust, I shatter, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that takes my breath away. I gasp for air, clinging to him as waves of pleasure crash over me, his name a broken prayer on my lips.
Seb doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, his thrusts growing deeper, more relentless, chasing my high as his name rips from my lips in a desperate moan. The sensation of him inside me, driving into me with unrelenting force, pushes me to the edge once again, every nerve screaming for release.
“That’s it, angel. Look at you taking my cock so well. So fucking perfect. Made for me. Moulded to the shape of me. Only me.”
“Yes! You!” I cry, incoherent with need from his filthy words driving me higher.
His hands grip my hips tighter, holding me in place as he slams into me, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room, a symphony of raw, primal need. His voice, ragged and full of command, fills the space between us. “Come for me again, Elle. Let me feel you. Let me own you.”
I don’t know how, but the pressure builds all over again, so much more intense than before. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I know is him – his body, his scent, his touch. My heart races as he pulls me toward him, his rhythm steady and unyielding, coaxing me closer and closer to the edge once more.
“Bas,” I gasp, my body trembling, the coil in my core tightening impossibly. “Please, I’m...I’m?—”
“Come for me,” he growls, his lips brushing my ear as his thrusts become more urgent, more frantic. His control is slipping, but he’s holding on, just barely. “Let go, Elle. Now. Give it to me.”
With one last, deep thrust, I fall apart all over again. I let go. I scream . The sensation is overwhelming, a bolt of pure ecstasy that floods my body, my mind, until I’m nothing but a trembling mess beneath him. My hands clutch him, pulling him closer as I ride out the aftershocks, my body convulsing with the intensity of my release.
Seb’s movements don’t stop, though. He’s relentless, the pressure of his body against mine unyielding, as he drives into me again and again, taking what’s his. My body quivers beneath him, every muscle tight, still trembling from the force of my orgasm.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” Seb mutters against my skin, his voice thick with satisfaction and lust. He keeps moving, chasing his own release now, the sound of his breath heavy in my ear. “God, Elle, you’re mine. I’m gonna fucking collar you so that everyone knows it too.”
My cunt pulses at his promise and I bite back a whimper.
“Bas, stop holding back.” He stalls, his rhythm faltering.
“What do you mean?” He asks as he looks down at me.
“I’m not made of glass and you’ve already smashed my hymen to smithereens, so let go. Fuck me like you mean it. Make it hurt .”
The growl that rips from his chest is unholy and he pulls out, making me wince. But before I can protest the loss of him, he’s flipping me over, grabbing my hips and jerking my ass up into the air. I barely have a second to breathe before he’s slamming home, and I scream into the pillow.
Oh fuck what have I done?
Seb fucks me like an animal, rutting me into the mattress so deep all I can do is cling on for dear life, bite the pillow and try to snatch air as and when I can. He more than delivers on his promise to make it hurt, to ruin me, to brand me as his.
I never want to be without him. The thought of being empty makes me whimper and push back, begging for more, even though I know I’ll be walking funny tomorrow.
“Fucking. Perfection. Elle.” Seb grunts as his hips reach a staccato rhythm, his own release imminent. The bite of his fingers sinking deep into the flesh on my hips, the way he sinks his teeth deep into the juncture of my neck and shoulder, the explosion of his cum painting my insides, marking me as his, is my undoing. I didn’t think I had anything left to give, but his orgasm managed to wring the final dregs of pleasure from my body, until we both collapse onto the mattress, heaving, as we try to catch our breaths.
“That was…wow,” I eventually manage to gasp.
“Just the warm up act, angel. Give me a minute.”
I laugh, because there’s no way I can take any more. But once again, Seb proves me wrong and shows me exactly how in command of my body he really is.
The night continues in a haze of pleasure and pain, Seb pushing me further than I thought I could go, but never too far. Each touch, each word, is a reminder of the trust between us, of the love that’s grown from the desire we share.
The intensity in his gaze takes my breath away. “You’re mine, Elle,” he says, his voice fierce and unwavering.
“And you’re mine,” I reply, the truth of the words settling deep in my chest.
I know we’ve crossed a line, not into something darker, but into something infinitely brighter. Together. As it was always meant to be.