Chapter Twenty-Three #2
I fisted his shirt and dragged him back against me, heart hammering. “Then show me you mean it, Ash,” I said, breathless, aching. “Show me you’re going to keep your promises… and fucking take me.”
Something unrestrained flared behind his eyes.
I barely caught it before his mouth crashed into mine.
Relief broke through me in a rush, my hands sliding into his hair as the kiss turned wild—not for possession, but for closeness, for proof, for the simple, overwhelming reality of us.
Because this was choosing each other again without hesitation, without distance, the way we always should have.
His hands slid down my sides to my thighs, grip firm, and in one swift movement he lifted me, carrying us to the couch and settling me into his lap with practiced ease.
“What happened to the bedroom?” I grinned down at him, cupping his face.
“Too far.”
The kiss that followed wasn’t slow. If anything, it splintered—teeth, breath, the sharp edge of need scraping against everything we’d been holding back.
My hands slid under his shirt, pushing it up, needing skin instead of fabric.
Sebastian groaned into my mouth and yanked it off in one impatient motion, tossing it somewhere behind us.
When my own followed, his eyes caught on my chest. He stilled, lips parting, his whole expression softening.
I smiled to myself. “If you’d tried to ravage me at any point this week, you would’ve seen it.”
His dark eyes lifted to mine, brows drawing together in something that looked almost like pain. The necklace he’d given me was back around my neck, where it belonged. Where he belonged.
His fingertip traced the C engraved into the medallion, adoring. “When did you get it?”
“I went to Maya’s after I saw you wearing yours.”
The look on his face—it was beautiful. The only word I could think of to describe it was yearning. I knew it too well. That feeling had lived locked inside me for so long. For him. For us.
Sebastian leaned in to kiss me again, the urgency returning bit by bit as his hands cupped my neck, one thumb brushing over the chain.
Clothes followed in clumsy, desperate pieces.
Buttons abandoned. Waistbands shoved down.
We kept colliding back into each other between it all, separating only when we had to.
I was dizzy with it. With him.
Sebastian rested his forehead against mine, breath uneven, hands firm on my hips. “Darling,” he murmured—a quiet check-in.
“I’m here,” I said immediately. “I want this.”
He reached for his wallet in the pile of discarded clothes beside us and pulled out a small packet of lube, holding it up instead of assuming. “We’re both good?” he asked softly.
I nodded. “Negative. On PrEP.”
Relief crossed his face before desire took over again. “Me too. I want you bare.”
I nodded again, the decision settling between us, and something about choosing each other so openly made my chest hurt in the best way.
Sebastian leaned back against the couch, eyes dark and intent on me, hands steady as he guided me up. The world narrowed to the way his gaze never left mine, as if this mattered as much as everything else between us.
With his fingers slick and his mouth back on mine, he worked me open, ready for him. The heat eased into something heavier, deeper. I rocked against his hand, and he groaned into my mouth, biting my lip. After long, breathless minutes, he withdrew his fingers.
He moved lower, giving me room, and I braced my knees by his hips as he held himself upright. With our eyes locked, I bore down, taking him inch by inch—hot and perfect, stretching me effortlessly. I didn’t stop until I was fully seated, my body settled against his.
His eyes were molten, tracking every inch of me, more than once stopping at my chest and the glint of gold resting there. One hand left my hip, gliding over my stomach before steadying at my neck. “You look like an angel up there,” he said, voice rough, chest rising and falling hard.
I grinned, fingers sliding into his hair, twisting and pulling, just how he liked. The first roll of my hips dragged a low, primal sound from him.
My lips parted as his cock slid inside me again—out, then back in. “Do I fuck like an angel too?” I didn’t relent, smirk still in place, eyes locked on his half-lidded ones.
A raw chuckle escaped him as his hands returned to my hips, urging me on. “No,” he moaned, the corner of his mouth lifting.
I rose and dropped harder on his lap, the impact sharp enough to knock the breath from him, making his lashes flutter.
“You fuck like a god,” he rasped.
Sebastian spread his legs wider beneath me, hands locking on my hips as he drove up to meet me, forcing my body to take his thrust.
Fuck.
Yes—
My mouth fell open, a broken sound tearing out of me as we snapped into rhythm.
All gentleness slipped away as our hands turned rough—his fingertips denting on my skin while my grip tightened in his hair, tipping his head back and dragging a hiss from him that was equal parts pain and pleasure.
The smirk never left his lips as we matched each other, bodies pounding together like a challenge, a game of who could undo the other first.
I fucking loved it.
His hard, punishing thrusts, the fire behind his eyes, the sound of skin slapping skin—everything about this, this feral sex with him, made it ten times hotter.
He bit down on his lip, groaning, and for a moment I was sure I had him—until his hand closed around my cock and everything shattered.
My hands pulled free from his hair, bracing on the couch, on his shoulder, nails digging in as heat ripped through me and made my thighs quake. His grip was slick and unyielding, the pressure perfect.
The rocking of our bodies turned frantic, chasing our climax. I needed him with me—I needed to drag him over the edge with me—but then he tightened his hold on my hip and slammed up harder, the angle exact, the constant thrust inside me blowing my vision white.
“Fuck—gonna come,” I gasped, barely forcing the words out before my body seized. My thighs locked, release crashing through me. I shook violently, spurts spilling across his chest, a long, deep moan breaking from my throat.
“So fucking hot,” Sebastian growled. “Want to come inside you.”
I nodded, wrecked, still shaking too hard to speak.
Then I was on my back, the couch warm beneath me as he took over completely.
“God,” I groaned as he drove into me, hard and deep, our matching medallions clinking softly together. His hands hooked under my knees, forcing me open, holding me there as he slammed into me again and again, until his moans turned ragged.
His hips stuttered, then snapped forward one last time, his cock kicking inside me as I watched his face above mine, pleasure stripped bare. He came with my name on his lips, body sagging forward as he filled me, small, involuntary jerks carrying him through the last waves of it.
When he stilled, I clenched around him, smiling when it dragged a hoarse groan from his throat. The aftershocks were still humming through me, made even sweeter by the way his mouth lingered—brushing mine once more before drifting down my jaw, over my collarbone. Slow. Unhurried.
He pulled out carefully, the warmth of him withdrawing inch by inch, then sat back on the couch, one hand still hooked under my thigh, gaze fixed between my legs, lips parted.
Heat spread up my already flushed neck, and I nudged him lightly with my knee, smirking. “Pervert.”
Sebastian grinned, still catching his breath. “I’m getting something to clean you up.”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“I know,” he said easily, already moving to stand. “But I want you in my bed. Clean first.” He gave my thigh a light slap on his way past.
I winced. “Neat freak.”
“You’ll appreciate that when we’re living together.”
He walked away, leaving me staring after him. Someone had abducted the real Sebastian Langley. That—or I’d definitively broken the commitment-phobe.
“Why the smug smile?” he asked as he came back, a damp cloth in hand.
“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Just thinking about you.”
He arched a brow, unconvinced, as he sat beside me and dragged the warm cloth over my stomach. I watched him as he cleaned me—over my cock, between my cheeks—careful even when his touch was firm. The low light caught the glint of the necklace at his throat.
“Come on,” he said when he was done. “Up.”
I followed him into his room on shaky legs, taking in the unfamiliar space.
The bed was big, softer-looking than the one in New York, piled with inviting covers and pillows.
Everything was done in deep, earthy tones, the walls finished with the same elegant trim framing the living room.
Double-paneled doors stood shut against the cold, glass panes reflecting the city lights beyond the small iron-fenced balcony.
My attention snagged on the bookshelves. Fantasy. Rows of it. Well-worn spines, familiar titles I recognized because he’d mentioned them before—books he loved, worlds he disappeared into. It made me smile to myself. This place looked like him.
I sat on the bed facing the view outside while Sebastian stood in front of me, still beautifully bare as I held his gaze.
“What?” he asked, thumb grazing my cheek.
I pressed my lips together, failing to hide my smile. “Would you bring the box in?”
He didn’t try to hide his own as he nodded.
I dropped back onto the bed—it was as comfortable as it looked—and pulled the covers up.
When Sebastian returned, he opened the box and set it on the nightstand before climbing in behind me. I turned onto my side, facing it as he curled close, an arm settling around my waist.
There it was—a simple gold band carrying so much weight.
“You’re not allowed to ask, by the way,” I said. “We haven’t even been in a real relationship yet. You might hate the way I don’t organize my socks by color.”