SIXTEEN Sebastian #2
There’s no hesitation, only swift action. She tugs off her top, leaving her in a blue bra made of lace that matches her underwear. I bite my knuckles, whimpering when she plays with the straps. I whine when she moves her hands to her breasts and squeezes them together.
I want to fuck her there. I want to fuck her everywhere, but there, specifically, is high on the list.
“What do you think?” she asks, as if I’m not gaping at her with my mouth wide open and my cock straining against my pants.
As if I’m not scrambling forward, gently knocking her hand away so I can be the one to touch her.
She moans when I take her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, pinching tight.
“What do I think? I think I’d like to come on your chest. I think I’d like to use it to write my name so whoever is there after me knows I was there first.” She warms under my hand, body flushing a pretty shade of pink.
“I’d like to leave a mark so you remember me in the morning. So you don’t forget what we did.”
“Is that what you normally like?”
“I’ve never done that before. But with you, I know I’d enjoy it. Fuck, Quincy. Look at you,” I breathe out. Full of wonder, full of awe. Full of how the fuck am I the one to be here with her right now? “You’re gorgeous.”
“You said something about wondering if I’m wet. About not hating you.” Quincy lifts her long arms above her head and hums when I palm her breast, the lace rough against my hand. “When are you going to find out if you’re right?”
There’s that goddamn confidence making me weak again.
I could finish right now. A quick thrust against the mattress is all it would take.
My hand drops to her thighs, thumb running over the ridge of her knee. Up higher, teasing over the front of her underwear before fanning out over her ribs.
I look at her, and it’s the biggest mistake of my life.
I’m dumbstruck. Her dark hair hangs in loose waves around her face.
Her chest is heaving, her legs are open, and I’m not convinced this isn’t some fantasy I’ve had before.
A memory from last week where I got off in the shower to a hazy vision of her.
This is so much better.
“Sebastian?”
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “You’re making me stupid right now.”
“Tell me about the ways you want me.”
I could write a novel. An encyclopedia full of Quincy-isms and all my inappropriate thoughts, but I settle on kissing her instead. Swiping my tongue along her mouth and smiling when her lips part and she smiles too.
She tastes like wine and that cupcake she ate earlier. Decadence swathed in a five-foot-nine brunette who must be trying to bring me to my knees when her knuckles brush along my jaw.
“I want you right now. Fast, then slow, so I can figure out what you like the most then do it again. I want you to sit on my face because you’ve been telling me for years to shut up, and I think that might be the only solution to giving you what you want.
I want you on top of me, riding me, so I can watch your tits bounce while I fuck you.
I want you from behind so I can tease you.
So I can pluck you apart and put you back together.
I know how to take care of people, Quincy.
And I want to be the one to take care of you. ”
My fingers hook in the waistband of her underwear and hold, the moment suspended. She gives me a small nod and I move, dragging the lace down her hips. Over her thighs, her calves, until they’re at her ankles. I wrap the prize around my wrist and grin.
“Are you doing something with those?” she asks.
“Keeping them as a souvenir.”
“Yeah?” Quincy reaches out and grabs my chin, and I didn’t think it was possible to get any harder. “Truth or Dare, Sebastian?”
“Dare,” I answer. “I will literally do anything you want. I’ll crawl. I’ll ask nicely. Anything, Quincy.”
“I dare you to touch me.” She lets go and leans back, elbows resting on the mattress. She drags her feet over the wrinkled sheets, legs bent at the knee, and tips her thighs open. “I dare you to look at me.”
I glance up, and my heart almost flatlines. I need to be revived but also sedated.
There she is.
Perfect, and mine for the night.
I press my thumb against her clit and rub a slow circle. Her toes curl, her back arches. She moans my name like she’s mad at me, and I smile.
“Like that?” I whisper, and she nods. She lets out a breath and puts a hand on my shoulder, nails digging into my skin.
I can’t wait to look at the half-moon marks she leaves behind when we’re finished.
I should get a tattoo to commemorate the occasion.
I’ll put her name under it in big, bold letters.
Courtesy of Quincy Monroe. I’m the luckiest motherfucker in the world.
“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t know what you’re asking for. ”
Quincy loops her fingers in my necklace and tugs. I nearly tumble on top of her, but I catch myself at the last second, holding myself above her. Her smile is a dare. Her eyes sparkle with a challenge. She unhooks her bra, breasts spilling free and a hand trailing down her body.
She’s going to make me beg, and I’m going to thank her for the opportunity.
“Get back on your knees like you said you would, and tell me how much you want to taste me.”
Fuck.
“Please.” My voice trembles. My cock is so hard, it hurts.
I pull away, positioning myself back on my knees, and I give my length a rough stroke over my jeans.
Movements are difficult. Coherent thoughts are even more impossible.
“Please, Quincy. Let me—can I taste you? Can I fuck you with my fingers? Please?”
“Yeah.” She positions herself at the top of the bed, head against the pillows and long hair everywhere. Ankles wrap around my neck when I lie on my stomach. She touches my bottom lip with her thumb, a soft laugh escaping her. “You can.”
“What’s so funny?” I kiss her knee. I drag my tongue up her thigh, stopping when I get between her legs and blow a warm breath against her.
The laugh turns to a moan, the edge of pleasure behind the noise.
“I’m not sure I’ve had someone make fun of me while I touched them before. First time for everything, I guess.”
“I’m not making fun of you. I never thought we’d be here, and I’m processing. I like it.” Her hand moves to my hair, urging me forward. “I want you to make me come.”
“A lot of asks for someone who said they hated me.” I touch her clit again.
I spread her open with my thumbs, another whimper working its way up my throat.
I drag a finger through her entrance, pushing inside her until I reach my first knuckle, then my second.
Quincy squirms, her gasp echoing against the walls of her bedroom, and I press down on her stomach with an open palm to keep her still.
I’m lightheaded when she groans, loud and low.
Dizzy when I get deeper. “You’re so wet. ”
“Sebastian.” My name is a plea. It’s a good thing she said it, because I forgot who I am.
Where I am, too caught up in how warm she is.
How tight she is and how well we’re going to fit together.
“That’s—” Her hands drop to the bed and twist the sheets.
She rolls her hips, trying to lift them off the mattress and searching for the friction she craves. “More.”
I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ll give her anything she wants. If she asked for the sun, I’d find a way to loop a lasso around it and bring it to this very room, but we wouldn’t be us if I didn’t push her a little. If I didn’t try to coax some feistiness out of her.
“What’s the magic word?” I murmur, hiding my smile in the curve of her knee when she mumbles out a string of curses. My name wrapped in four-letter swear words. “Come on, Quinny baby. You can do it.”
“Please.” Quincy gasps when I turn my wrist and curl my finger inside her. “Please can I have more?”
This has to be heaven, and I’m in no fucking rush to return to earth.
I’m slow to add a second finger, careful when I press inside and let her get used to the stretch. I want to drag this out, to memorize every sound she makes, but I’m doing it for myself too.
I’m afraid I’m going to lose it any second. I’m even more afraid when I look up at the swell of her breasts. At the planes of her stomach and the softer skin at her hips, a place I’d like to grip while I fucked her from behind.
“Okay?” I slur, drunk with lust and the image of her naked body. Picturing what she’s going to look like when she comes. “Should I—”
“Perfect.” Her feet rest on my shoulders when I pull out of her then push back in, deeper this time. I suck on the skin near her hip, leaving behind a bruise I hope turns red and purple and lots of other shades. “It’s perfect.”
I slip my palms under her thighs and squeeze the handful of skin I find, glad I have something stable to hold on to when I scoot forward. When I dip my chin and put my tongue on her clit, grinding against the mattress.