Chapter 3 – Lauren
Chapter
Three
LAUREN
W e go to say goodbye to Gabriel and Samantha before we leave, and I have to work hard to look cool, calm, and collected as we talk to our hosts. I don’t feel cool or calm. I feel like someone has doused my insides with gasoline and tossed a lit match on top. I can barely tear my eyes away from his rear view as I follow him through the house, and the front view is even better.
The man is as hard for me as I am wet for him, and an uncharacteristic flush creeps up my neck as I remember how forward I was. Like my usual honest self, but on a megadose of steroids.
I meant what I said though—I don’t like to play games. What’s the point of going through an elaborate mating ritual when both of us know what we want? It seems like a big, fat waste of time. I can’t wait to feel those massive paws of his on my flesh, to taste his tongue on mine, to run my hands along those muscular forearms. And that little touch of dominance at the end of our chat? Hot enough to melt the polar ice caps. I’m not usually into being bossed around. Usually, I’m very much the one in charge, but this guy is different. This guy makes me want to try anything.
“You off, Dad?” Samantha says as he pulls her in for a bear hug. “I thought you might stay over.”
“Nah, love, got a busy day tomorrow. Besides, I told Lauren here she could follow me back to the city.”
Gabriel tries to hide his smirk, and Sam arches an eyebrow at me. “Really? She seemed to find her way here just fine.”
“I’m a little nervous about driving on the wrong side of the road in the dark,” I say. “Plus, my phone still seems to think I’m in the States when it comes to maps.” I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
All four of us are aware of what’s happening here, but none of us are going to talk about it. Sam knows what kind of man her father is—a player—and she knows the kind of woman I am. Still, she looks a little surprised. I guess it’s hard for any girl to see her dad as a hottie, no matter how good-looking he is.
“Okay,” she says, throwing her hands up in the air, “I suppose you’re both grown-ups, although it doesn’t always feel like it in my father’s case. Drive carefully, both of you—one wrong turn and you could end up losing control. Those roads can be treacherous, you know.”
“Full of dangerous curves,” adds Gabriel, earning himself a slap on the arm from Sam.
I laugh and give my friend a hug. “Thanks for a wonderful party. I had a great time. I hope Max lets you sleep through the night.”
Gabriel slides an arm around Sam’s shoulders, and she gazes up at him with undisguised desire. Yeah. I don’t think these two will be getting much sleep, even if Max doesn’t wake them up.
I walk outside with Sebastian, and we make our way to the big driveway inside the ten-foot-tall electronic gates. Security is a big deal for this family, and from the stories I’ve heard, I totally get why.
Seb stops in front of a black Audi SUV, stares at my bright red Porsche Cayman—known to her friends as Scarlett O’Hara—and whistles. “That’s a hell of a car you’ve got there. Why aren’t I the slightest bit surprised?”
“Are you saying I’m predictable, Sebastian?” I place my hand on my chest and fake a hurt-feelings look.
“I have a feeling you might be the least predictable woman I’ve ever met. My head’s been spinning since I met you, and you know it.”
God, even his voice is sexy—pure London gravel. I stand up on my tippy-toes and drop a quick kiss on his cheek, loving the feel of his neatly trimmed beard bristling against my lips. “I do know it, yeah. Now, are we leaving or not?”
His brown eyes flash at the demanding tone of my voice, and I can tell he isn’t used to being spoken to like this. He is undoubtedly accustomed to being the alpha around women who fall at his feet. I might want to sleep with him, but I definitely won’t be found anywhere near the vicinity of his feet anytime soon. Still, I find the darkening of his expression strangely exciting. It’s full of promise and equally full of threat. Both of them make my pussy throb.
He nods once, abruptly, and climbs into his car. He’s there for a few minutes, and I see the light of his phone screen shining in the front seat. Maybe he’s rearranging a hot date. I sure hope he’s clearing his schedule, because I want him to myself for the next few hours.
The gates open up for us, and I follow him down quiet country lanes lined with mini mansions behind their fences and trees. I wasn’t entirely lying when I said I was nervous about driving on the wrong side of the road in the dark, and I have to suck in deep breaths as his car screeches off ahead of me. Luckily, we seem to be the only vehicles on the road, and I stick close to the glow of his rear lights as we wind through the starlit scenery.
After about twenty minutes, his blinker flashes on, and he turns off to the right. He heads down a single-lane road that eventually opens up into the courtyard of a picture-perfect thatched cottage. I stop the car but leave my lights on, taking in the cute yellow-stone building and the pretty rose garden outside it. Huh. This doesn’t look like a field. It looks like the kind of place Kate Winslet might live in a rom-com.
I climb out of the Porsche and find him leaning against the door of his own car. “I prefer not to fuck in fields.” He grins and gestures at the beautiful cottage before us. “This is ours for the night. But if you really insist on doing it outside, we have our very own field out back.”
“How did you manage this? Do you have fuck pads scattered across the countryside just in case some crazy American chick comes on to you?”
His laugh is deep and sexy, and it does something to my insides that isn’t at all unpleasant. “I don’t discriminate. They don’t need to be American. And no, I don’t have ‘fuck pads.’ It’s an Airbnb. I booked it while I was in the car. If you don’t fancy it, no hard feelings.”
The cottage is perfect, with ivy-clad walls and a bright red front door. It must have cost a fortune, and I’m flattered he went to the effort. Something inside me, though, won’t let it go that easily. This man challenges me, and I don’t like to back off from a challenge. Sometimes clinging on to that has been the only thing that’s kept me sane. “It’s nice, Seb. I suppose fucking alfresco is a young man’s game, after all.”
His brown eyes crinkle deliciously around the sides, which I love. It’s further proof that he laughs long and laughs easy, and let’s face it, laughter is often the only appropriate response to life.
“You trying to get a rise out of me, Lauren? Or do you just want to stand out here and chat all night? I’m beginning to think you’re all talk. I’ll be inside if you want me. If not, I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
He strides past me toward the cottage and, after pressing buttons on a lockbox, lets himself in. I stare after him, momentarily taken aback. If I want him? I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a man more. My poor vagina would never forgive me if I drove away now, and I suspect he knows it. Damn. He’s out silver-foxed me. I let out a laugh and follow him inside.
I find him in the kitchen, which is all country chic, low-level lighting, and homely charm. He looks totally out of place there, his dark head skimming the beamed ceiling and his hulking physique filling the room. It’s like finding a grizzly bear in a doll’s house.
The cocky bastard assumed I’d be joining him all along and has already poured two glasses of wine. Sure enough, here I am. Alone with a man I barely know, who is looking at me like I’m his prey. His eyes rake over every inch of my body, and my heart rate speeds up like I just sprinted a mile.
He passes me the wine, and I take a quick gulp, suddenly needing it. I wanted this, but I feel out of my depth. Seb isn’t the kind of guy who’s going to let me take the lead, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
He stares at me intensely, and his silence undoes me. The flirting, the banter, the back and forth I could handle—but him studying me like this, so dark and brooding? It’s unnerving, and I can’t tell if the fluttering in my stomach is from nerves or anticipation.
“Come here,” he says simply, the words a low growl. I put the glass down and step toward him, unable to ignore the command in his voice. I stand before him, and he reaches out and puts one huge hand on the side of my neck. He keeps the pressure soft, barely there, the pad of his thumb running across the sensitive flesh between my ear and my jaw. “You nervous, Lauren?”
“No,” I lie, leaning into his touch.
“Yes you are. Your pulse is sky high. Your lips are trembling. Your cheeks are flushed. You’re nervous, and you’re turned on. I bet if I slid my hand inside your panties right now, you’d be soaking wet, wouldn’t you?”
My thighs clench together in response to his question, and a wet heat explodes in my core. God, he’s right. The way he’s talking to me, the way he’s looking at me, that one huge hand stroking my skin… It’s all making my panties damp.
“Maybe I am,” I reply, desperate to keep my head. Desperate not to lose myself completely in this man’s powerful aura. “But the only way to know for sure is if you check for yourself.”
His nostrils flare, and he moves like lightning, tugging me toward him so fast and so hard that I slam into his chest. He twists his fist into my hair and yanks my head back, turning my mouth up toward him. His other arm goes around my waist, holding me against him like a metal bar. The rock-hard bulge in his jeans rubs against me, and I murmur at the contact.
“You’ll be wet for me, Lauren. And you’ll come for me. Over and over again. I’m going to make you scream for me, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you until you think you’re broken, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. You understand me?”
I try to nod, but his grip on my hair makes it impossible. “Use your words, Lauren.”
“Yes, Seb. I understand.”
“And is that what you want? This is your last chance to change your mind.”
Between his cock pressing into me, his muscular arm restraining me, and his fist in my curls, I’m not sure I’ve got a mind left to change. I’ve had my share of sexual partners and I’ve experimented plenty, but nobody has ever had this effect on me. I’m overwhelmed by the way he’s making my body feel, by my arousal already seeping into my panties, by the breathless, booming pound of my heart. Never in a million years would I have expected to enjoy being under a man’s control like this, not after the things that happened in Florida. But here I am—desperate, needy, more than ready. “Yes. I want it.”
He hums appreciatively. “That’s my good girl. Before I do any of that, I think I need to do like you said and check how wet you are for me. I’m going to lay you down on this table, and I don’t want you to move, okay?”
I nod, and he rewards me with a satisfied smile as he rubs his thumb softly across my lips, staring hungrily at my mouth. I’ve never known a man to be able to raise my temperature with only a thumb before, but this seems to be a night full of firsts.
Without any more warning, he pushes me face down on the pine tabletop and holds me there with one big hand between my shoulder blades. I turn my head to the side, my cheek flat to the cool, smooth wood. His body curves over mine, completely engulfing me. He brushes my hair to one side, and I feel his hot breath against my skin before he trails kisses along the back of my neck. Every touch of his lips is like fire, and the way he has me imprisoned makes me squirm and wriggle against him.
He laughs and lifts the perfect pressure of his body away. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you get what you need—but you’ll get it when I decide and not a second before. Now, let’s get a closer look at you.”
Taking his time, he sweeps his hands all along my trembling body, exploring my curves, tantalizingly stroking the sides of my breasts as he works his way down. Desperate to feel those hands on me, I try to turn around to give him access, but he immediately pushes me down again, growling his disapproval.
“I said don’t move. I see what you’re trying to do, sweetheart, and I promise you’ll get everything you’re looking for—so long as you behave yourself. Can you do that, do you think? Behave yourself? Or do you want me to carry you out to your car and send you on your way back to the city?”
My palms are flat on the table, and I slap them against the surface once in frustration. I want to tell him to go screw himself, but I can’t. My body is alight with need, and as he trails his fingers gently around my neck and to my throat, all I can do is nod.
“Good girl. Now, where was I…” He goes back to his delicious stroking, examining me like I’m a gift he’s about to unwrap. “Your waist is fucking tiny,” he says, enclosing it with his giant hands. “And this juicy ass is phenomenal.”
He rubs his hands across my ass cheeks, squeezing them and kneading them through the thin fabric of my dress, and while he does it, he slips his thick thigh between my legs. I’m desperate to make contact with something, anything, to ease the pressure that’s building in my core, and I rub myself shamelessly against him. “Seb!” I gasp.
“I’m here, babe. You can ride my leg like the horny slut you are, but don’t move off that table, you hear me?”
“Yes.”
He grunts, and in one movement, he pushes my dress all the way up to my waist. My legs are shaking as he lets out an appreciative noise and gives my cheeks a slap. It’s not hard enough to really hurt, but it makes my flesh vibrate and my breathing hitch. I’ve tried spanking before, and it did nothing for me. In fact, I laughed the whole time and ended up back on top, as usual. I’m guessing now that it was with the wrong person, because this feels sensational.
“You like that, Lauren? Because you’re fucking my leg like a bitch in heat right now.”
He’s right, and the rough touch of his jeans and the solid bulk of his muscle rubbing against my clit is bringing me closer and closer to the edge. Just as I feel the heat inside me building to a boiling point, he pulls away. I moan his name and almost cry as the wave of pleasure subsides.
He slaps me once more, then tugs my red lace panties off, exposing me completely. “These shoes, Lauren, are a fucking disgrace. How can you expect to ever keep your panties on when you’re wearing these slutty heels? Step up now, one foot at a time.”
I do as I’m told, and he removes my underwear. With the fabric held under his nose, he growls, “Jesus. You smell fucking incredible. I’m keeping these, by the way. Something to remember you by. Now, let’s see exactly how ready you are.”
He kicks my ankles apart, and I know I should feel humiliated, embarrassed. I’m spread out on the table, bare ass in the air, pussy dripping wet, too scared to move in case he stops doing whatever the hell it is he’s planning on doing. I’m being held captive by needs I never knew I had and by the way this man so skillfully exploits them.
He runs his palms up my inner thighs, teasing me as he gets closer to the throbbing space between my legs. Every time I think he’s going to touch me where I want him most, he pulls away. I’m practically in tears from the frustration of it, from knowing how close I am to the most incredible orgasm while being completely under his power.
“Even your thighs are wet, Lauren. You’ve made quite a mess. You’re desperate for it, aren’t you, dirty girl?”
With no warning at all, he pushes two thick fingers inside me, making me yelp and shoving me farther up the table. He lays one hand on the small of my back and holds me still while he finger-fucks me, driving in and out with no mercy. It hurts, but in a filthy way that makes my pussy walls clench around him and my legs shake. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet, sweetheart, and I can feel you squeezing me with that tight little cunt of yours. You want more? You want me to fill you up some more?”
“Yes, Seb—please.”
He adds another finger, and my pussy stretches around him, slick and greedy. Clawing at the table, I squeal at the delicious sensations flooding my body.
He continues to pound into me, but he starts to stroke my clit with the pad of his thumb as he slides in and out. Each touch sends me further into a frenzy, but it’s not quite enough. He brushes against the swollen nub, but never for long enough to push me over the edge. It’s absolute torture, and I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.
“Beg for it, babe. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. You only have to ask for it.”
Even in my fevered state, I hate the thought of begging for anything. I clamp my lips together and wonder if I can hold out. Or if I can sneakily rub myself against him and get the release I need.
He seems to read my mind because he suddenly goes still. His massive fingers stay inside me, sweeping and probing at my pussy, hitting all kinds of sensitive spots that I didn’t know existed, but he’s no longer finger-fucking me in that deliciously raw way. His thumb is no longer sending shockwaves through my eager clit, and my orgasm is slipping away. “Please, Seb. Please don’t stop. Please don’t leave me like this.”
“Are you begging me to make you come, Lauren? I need to hear your words, sweetheart.”
“Yes, I’m begging you—please make me come.”
“You only had to ask.” He moves those fingers in and out of me again, once, twice, three times, harder than ever, making my whole body shake with the impact. Then he slows down, his movements becoming more controlled, more deliberate, his thumb going to my clit. The things this man can do with one thumb are unbelievable.
He rubs and teases and takes me up and takes me down, over and over again. Every time I think I’m going to explode, he pulls me back. I lose all track of time, all sense of who I am or where we are. The only thing that exists in the entire world is this man, my clit, and the mind-melting orgasm that I know is a mere touch away.
I don’t know how long it goes on for, this sweet torture, and I have no idea how he manages it. Sebastian is the first man to control my body like this, taking me so close but knowing exactly when to stop. It’s like he’s inside my mind, inside my body, experiencing everything I am and timing his every move to perfection. I barely feel human anymore; my bones have turned to liquid, and I’m dizzy with pure pleasure as he strokes and coaxes and commands me. How can my entire essence be controlled by one teeny-tiny nub of swollen flesh? That’s a goddamn design flaw right there.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Lauren. I love watching this beautiful arse of yours bounce around while I do this, and you’re so bloody wet my hand is dripping with your cum. Time for your reward, baby.” He leans over me, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “Look at me. I want to see your face when I make you come.”
I turn my head to the other side and have a moment where I wonder what the hell I must look like. There’s no chance my makeup has survived this onslaught, and my eyes are practically rolling back in my head by this stage.
“Beautiful,” he says, now concentrating all his efforts on my hypersensitive bud. He circles it gently, letting the pressure and pleasure build and build until I’m shuddering inside and out. The wave heads straight toward me, rising up, spreading like molten lava from my pussy to every other cell in my body. He senses my reaction and works me harder and faster. When the wave finally hits, I drown in it. I have never known anything like this in my entire life, and I fear I’ll never be the same again. It goes on and on, rolling over me in a relentless tsunami of sensation.
I cry his name as the pulse of pure ecstasy rips through my body, and warm liquid gushes from my pussy and spills down my thighs. When my climax finally fades, I’m left damp and limp and confused, a trembling mess on the kitchen table.
He watched me throughout, and his dark eyes are shining with satisfaction as he pulls his fingers out of me with an embarrassingly wet sucking sound. I gaze up at him as he licks his fingers one by one. My ass is still hanging out, but I’m incapable of moving. I may never move again. I will simply stay here, half naked on this kitchen table, ready to greet the next Airbnb guests with an unexpected house feature.
Eventually, once he’s finished licking my cum off his fingers, he grins at me. It’s a grin that can only be described as cheeky, and it’s a world away from the serious, masterful man he was only minutes ago. In fact, he looks like a naughty schoolboy.
I smile back, finally feeling some return of normality after having my brain melted by his wicked fingers. “You look like the cat that got the cream.”
“That’s exactly what I am, sweetheart. And your cream tasted delicious. You okay?”
“No. I’m not sure I will ever recover. Where did you learn to do that? Did you take a course? Study pussy in college?”
He laughs. “Nah. All-natural talent. That and a bit of practice. Can’t say I’ve ever met a pussy I liked as much as yours, though. The way you came for me just then? Un-fucking-believable.”
As he speaks, he smooths my dress back down over my ass and helps me to my feet. I’m still wearing my heels, and my whole body is shaking in the aftermath of what this man did to me. As soon as I’m upright, I get a head rush and stagger to the side like I’m drunk. I have been orgasmed to death, and now I will pay the price. I try to grab the edge of the table, but even my hands are floppy.
Seb catches me and swoops me up into his arms. He holds me there effortlessly, my head against his muscular chest, his bulging, tattooed biceps swelling out of his T-shirt. He’s not just big, this man, he’s strong. For a moment, I let myself relax into it, feeling safe and secure in his embrace.
He drops a surprisingly gentle kiss on my forehead and carries me out of the room. “It’s okay,” I protest. “You can put me down now.”
“I’ll put you down when I’m good and ready. Don’t worry, I’m not going to drop you. You’re safe with me.”