Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Elle
The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as I pad barefoot across the kitchen, wrapped in one of Seb’s oversized shirts. We stayed late at the club last night, but ultimately came home and slept in this morning.
The expensive material slides over my skin, whispering against the faint marks he left on me last night – reminders of how deeply I’m his. Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow.
Seb stands by the stove, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes like it’s something he’s done his whole life. His dark hair is tousled, and he’s wearing sweats that hang low on his hips, showcasing his lean frame. The sight of him – so domestic, so utterly at ease – makes my chest ache with something fierce and beautiful.
“Good morning, angel,” he says, glancing over his shoulder, his lips curving into a smile that softens the sharp lines of his face.
“Morning,” I murmur, sliding onto a stool at the island and propping my chin on my hand. “Since when do you cook?”
He chuckles, flipping a pancake onto the growing stack. “Since I realised you like pancakes and I like watching you eat them.”
My cheeks flush, and I tut, but there’s no real bite to it. Seb has a way of saying things that make me feel cherished and desired all at once.
We eat together at the kitchen island, forks clinking against plates, sharing easy conversation and occasional stolen bites. The quiet intimacy of the moment feels as intoxicating as our wilder nights.
After breakfast, we curl up on the couch, a lazy tangle of limbs and contentment. Seb’s arm is draped over my shoulders, his fingers absently tracing patterns on my arm. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“Elle,” he murmurs, his voice low and serious.
I tilt my head up to look at him, finding his piercing gold eyes watching me with an intensity that never fails to make me shiver.
“I don’t think I’ve ever said this out loud, but…thank you,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “For trusting me. For letting me be the one who gets all of you.”
Emotion swells in my throat, and I swallow hard. “You make it easy, Seb. You see me – the real me – and you never make me feel like I have to hide. So I guess I should be thanking you.”
His lips brush mine in a kiss that feels more like a promise than a demand, and when he pulls back, his smile is soft but wicked.
“Speaking of not hiding,” he says, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that sends heat pooling low in my belly, “I think it’s time we explored that toy I got for you.”
My breath catches, and I feel my pulse quicken. It’s not just the anticipation of what’s to come – it’s the trust that underpins it all. With Seb, I know I’m safe to surrender, to explore the edges of who I am and what I want.
He stands, holding out his hand to me. “Come with me, angel.”
I take his hand, my heart pounding as he leads me toward the bedroom. The sunlight streaming through the windows shifts, casting us in golden light, and I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be – part of something beautiful, something that’s entirely ours.
I settle into the plush armchair in the library, curled up with a book that I probably shouldn’t be reading in broad daylight. The room smells faintly of old paper and the cedar shelves that line the walls, and the low hum of contentment fills me as I turn the pages. After Seb dragged me back to the bedroom yesterday, we barely came up for air.
But this morning he has business to attend to, the shop is closed, and I have some free time, so I decided to curl up in my favourite spot with a good book.
It’s a smutty romance – raw and unapologetically explicit, the kind of thing that has my cheeks heating and my thighs clenching as the heroine is bent to the hero’s will, in ways that make my body thrum with envy.
“Enjoying yourself, angel?”
I jump, the book slipping from my hands as Seb’s voice cuts through the quiet. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed, but the predatory gleam in his eyes says he knows exactly what I was reading.
“Seb,” I stammer, scrambling to retrieve the book. “I–I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you were busy with work.”
He strides into the room, slow and deliberate, plucking the book from my hands before I can close it. His eyes skim the page, his eyebrows arching slightly, and when he looks at me, his smirk is pure wickedness.
“Quite the scene,” he murmurs, snapping the book shut and holding it out to me. “Why don’t you read it to me?”
My mouth falls open, words failing me as heat rushes to my face. “What? No?—”
“Read it, Elle.” His voice is firm, that commanding edge that makes my pulse spike and my resistance crumble. “Out loud.”
I hesitate, my heart pounding, but the challenge in his gaze leaves no room for argument. Taking a deep breath, I open the book and find the spot where I left off.
My voice is unsteady at first, but I push through, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush. Seb settles into the armchair opposite mine, watching me with an intensity that makes me squirm.
His gaze grows darker as I read, my voice soft but rising as the scene crescendos. Then he moves, stalking toward me with the kind of deliberate grace that makes my breath hitch.
“Don’t stop,” he orders, sinking to his knees in front of me.
I try to keep reading as his hands slide up my thighs, pushing my legs apart. His fingers hook into the hem of my shirt – his shirt – and tug it higher, exposing me.
“Seb,” I whisper, my voice faltering.
“Read,” he commands, his lips brushing the inside of my thigh.
I force myself to continue, stumbling over the words as his hands tease the heat between my legs, his fingers tracing over me, but never giving me what I need.
As the heroine in the story is claimed in ways that make me ache, Seb mirrors the scene, his hands and mouth driving me to the brink of madness. I cling to the book, my voice trembling as he pushes me closer and closer to release – only to stop the moment I’m about to shatter.
“Please,” I beg, tears spilling down my cheeks as he denies me over and over.
He cups my face, his thumb brushing away a tear as he gazes at me with dark, possessive eyes. “Do you trust me, Elle?”
“Yes,” I whisper, desperate and trembling. “You never need to ask.”
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a stunning diamond necklace. I frown. It’s beautiful. My breath catches as he holds it up.
It’s not a necklace. It’s a collar.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I want you to wear this,” he says softly. “To let me claim you – not just in this moment, but always.”
My heart is pounding, my body alight with need, but I know the weight of his words. This isn’t just about sex – it’s about trust, surrender, and belonging.
“Yes,” I say, my voice breaking with emotion. “Yes, Seb.”
His smile is pure satisfaction as he clasps the collar around my neck, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat coursing through me.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip my hips as he pulls me to the edge of the chair and kisses me until I’m breathless.
Pushing my panties aside, he thrusts his fingers deep into my core, hitting that spot that drives me insane, just as his other hand pinches my clit.
“Now come for me.”
The release is instant and overwhelming, crashing over me in waves that leave me gasping and trembling. Seb doesn’t give me a moment to recover before he’s inside me, his movements rough and possessive, claiming me in every way.
Still seated deep inside me, he lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist and my arms going to his shoulders for balance. He slams me against the nearest bookshelf, kissing me like a man possessed while he fucks up into me like an animal.
Books tumble from the shelves as he drives me higher, my cries mingling with his low, guttural groans.
When we finally collapse together, sated and breathless, the collar around my neck feels like the perfect fit – a symbol of everything we’ve built and everything we have yet to explore.