Sebastian
The moment her lips part under mine, everything I thought I knew about hunger gets rewritten.
I intended control. A test. A measured kiss to confirm the heat in her eyes wasn’t my imagination. Instead, I find myself devouring her like a man who hasn’t eaten in years. She tastes of champagne and innocence, and the way she trembles against me drives me past the line of restraint.
She’s inexperienced. It’s obvious. Her lips move clumsily at first, not with the practiced precision of women who treat sex like a résumé skill, but with instinct. Raw, honest instinct. And it’s more arousing than anything I’ve ever known.
I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
When I finally tear myself away, my forehead pressed to hers, she’s panting, eyes wide and glassy. Her pulse hammers against the hand I still have curved lightly around her throat. She’s wrecked already, and I haven’t even started.
“You belong to me now,” I rasp.
The words aren’t strategy. They’re truth.
Her breath hitches, a sharp intake, and for a heartbeat I wait for her to argue, to laugh, to run. She doesn’t. Her pupils blow wide, her thighs press together, and I know. She felt it too.
“Come with me.”
I don’t give her time to think, don’t give myself time to second-guess. I take her hand and lead her out of the alcove, back through the ballroom. Heads turn, masks tilt, but no one steps in our way. No one ever does.
She follows without protest, her small hand clutched in mine, trembling but willing. Brave little thing.
The elevator doors glide open with a key fob, silent and discreet. Inside, mirrors multiply our reflections. Me dark and controlled, her flushed and wide-eyed, lips swollen from my kiss. I want to shatter the glass so we’re not forced to share the sight of her with anyone, even a reflection.
“Breathe,” I tell her.
“I am.”
“Liar.” My mouth curves, humorless. “You’re shaking.”
She glances down at her hand still tangled in mine. The tremor is visible all the way to her wrist. She bites her lip, embarrassed, and the sight makes my cock throb. That nervous honesty is like a drug.
The elevator hums upward. Every second stretches tight with anticipation. She shifts slightly, as though fighting the urge to fidget. I step closer, until our bodies brush without touching, and she stiffens like prey cornered.
“Last chance,” I murmur.
Her gaze flicks up to mine, startled. “For what?”
“For you to change your mind.”
She swallows hard, and the movement drags my attention to the elegant line of her throat, the rapid flutter of her pulse. She’s terrified. Aroused. Alive. And she’s still here.
“Do you want me to?” she asks.
I lower my voice. “No.”
The elevator chimes, doors whispering open to a private floor. I guide her into my suite, the carpet swallowing our footsteps, the city sprawled in lights beneath the wall of glass. The door seals behind us with a quiet finality.
We’re alone now. Truly alone.
I turn to her. “Come here.”
She hesitates for only a breath before crossing the space, drawn by a force she doesn’t yet understand.
When she reaches me, I curve a hand around her hip, the other sliding to cup her jaw.
I tip her face up and kiss her again, deep and slow, my thumb stroking her throat as if reminding her she belongs to me now.
She melts. Her fingers clutch my lapels, tugging me closer with clumsy urgency. She’s not graceful, not practiced, but she’s real. And it makes me want to ruin her.
“Better,” I murmur against her lips.
“Than what?”
“Than pretending I’m capable of restraint around you.”
Her answering gasp is sharp and sweet. I drag my mouth down her jaw, breathing her in, my teeth grazing the sensitive spot where her pulse flutters. She jerks, a helpless little sound escaping her throat, and my control frays another inch.
“Sweet,” I groan, nipping lightly before soothing with my tongue. “You make me want to worship and destroy in the same breath.”
Her hands tremble against me. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, confession raw.
My cock throbs at the honesty. “You don’t need to do anything. That’s the point.”
I slide my palm down her spine, slow, deliberate, until I’m cupping her ass through the silk. I squeeze, pulling her against me, letting her feel the rigid proof of what she does to me. She gasps, lips parting, eyes flying wide.
“See what you’ve done?” I growl, pressing harder. “One kiss and I’m ready to fuck you against the glass.”
Color blooms across her cheeks, shame and want tangled. “Sebastian…”
I grip her chin, forcing her to hold my gaze. “Say yes.”
Her breath trembles. “Yes.”
It detonates inside me.
I back her toward the bed, not hurried but unstoppable. She stumbles when the backs of her knees hit the mattress, catching herself on my chest. I push her gently down, watching her sink into the dark coverlet, her hair spilling like ink across the pillows.
She looks like something rare. A treasure I’ve unearthed after years of digging through filth.
“You’re overdressed,” I tell her, my fingers finding the zipper at her spine.
Her lips part, a small gasp, but she doesn’t stop me. I peel the silk down slowly, exposing inch after inch of pale skin, curves that make my cock ache, soft thighs I already picture wrapped around me.
“Fuck,” I breathe, running my hands over her. “You’re so beautiful.”
She flushes deeper, twisting as though she doesn’t know what to do with the attention. That hesitation makes me want to show her what she’s worth, to worship until she believes it.
I drag the fabric lower, revealing white lace panties that do nothing to hide the damp proof of her arousal. My blood roars.
“Do you have any idea what this does to me?” I murmur, stroking her through the lace until she arches helplessly. “How close I am to ruining you completely?”
Her whimper is broken, pleading. “Please.”
“Please what?”
Her throat works. “Please…don’t stop.”
I smirk, cruel and reverent. “Good girl.”
Her shiver is violent, as though the praise alone pushes her closer to breaking. I press my lips to her throat, branding her with my mouth, while my hand continues its slow torment. Every twitch of her hips, every gasp, every tremble is mine.
“Tonight,” I growl against her skin, “you learn what it means to belong to me.”
She nods, dazed, but I tighten my grip. “Words, Caitlyn.”
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice shaky but certain. “I belong to you.”
The sound nearly undoes me. I want to bury myself inside her, claim her in the most primal way possible, but I force restraint for one more night. Not because she doesn’t want it, her body is begging, but because I want the first time to be a memory carved into her soul.
Instead, I trail my mouth lower, worshipping every inch, building anticipation until she’s shaking, whimpering, desperate.
She’ll come undone under my hands before I ever take her properly, and when I finally do, there will be no part of her that doesn’t recognize me as the only man who can make her feel this way.
I lift my head, meeting her wide, desperate eyes. “This is only the beginning,” I promise. “By the time I’m finished, you won’t remember life before me.”
And the most dangerous part?
Neither will I.