SIXTEEN Sebastian #3
“And that?” I ask, right against her. My fingers are dripping with her. I want my mouth to be the same. “How about that?”
“Even—” She reaches behind her, a hand on the headboard. Fingers curling around the top of the wood, hanging on. She arches her back when I lick her again, another swipe over where I want to bury myself and stay forever. “Better.”
“Too much? Not enough?”
“Sebastian.” The way she says my name makes me want to work harder. To get her there faster. “It feels too good. Like my body—”
“This is how it should feel.” I move my hands to her ass, squeezing once. I want that too. “This is how it’s always going to feel with me.”
Quincy trembles when I keep my mouth on her. I find the pace she loves the most, unrelenting while she moans above me. When she turns quieter and less enthusiastic, I try something else, keeping a list in my head of the things she likes.
She likes when I use my tongue and fingers at the same time. She really likes when I spit on her pussy and drag the saliva across her body like I’m painting a picture.
Man obsessed, I’d call it.
With a little caret above it, the word unworthy in bold.
I can tell when she starts to come undone, the rasp of my name spilling out of her. It’s the last drops of a good glass of whiskey. The sun right before it sets, the whole world covered in vibrant yellows and orange.
There’s a gasp and a full body shudder. A low moan then her breath evening out. A bead of sweat running down her stomach as she squeezes tight around me.
I’ve seen her a hundred different ways over the years, but this one might be my favorite yet: Guard down. High on endorphins, and each roll of her hips is a new version of her I’m lucky to experience for the first time.
How many other men have had her like this?
Jealousy rips through me, but it doesn’t stay for long.
Not when she cups my cheek and lifts my chin when I add a third finger, chasing the orgasm out of her.
Not when a look of relief, of gratitude flickers across her face as I whisper you’re doing so well and look how well you take me.
Time blurs. I find a rhythm. Hours might pass, but I don’t care. Everything narrows down to her, and desperation claws at me.
I want to hear her say my name.
I want to see her smile right before she comes.
“I think I might hate you more than I did twenty minutes ago.” She moves her hips, the new angle letting my fingers get deeper inside her.
She’s not shy about the pleasure she’s craving, the hint of franticness in the way she works up then down, using me.
The hook of a smile. A low hum when I hit the right spot. “How are you so good at this?”
“I’m good at everything.” My thumb presses against her clit again. “But I’m even better with you. I’ve spent years trying to figure you out, and now that I have, I want you to look at me when you come, Quincy.”
Her eyes lock on mine. The light from the lamp on her bedside table makes her look like she’s glowing. Hues of gold stretch across her body, and she’s an angel from another realm. Her breathing quickens. Her grasp on me slackens.
“I’m going to—”
“Good,” I tell her. “Keep your eyes on me, and let me taste.”
My tongue is back on her, and this is how I want to die.
I’ve done everything I need to do in life, and I’d go willingly.
It doesn’t take long for her to let me know she’s close.
There’s a please and an I’m almost there.
A few swipes of my tongue, a fractured Sebastian I’m going to hear for the rest of my days.
Another push of my fingers, and she’s falling apart.
Quincy lets out a strangled groan, and I slow, taking my time to pull my fingers out of her as her orgasm subsides.
I kiss her hip, her knee. The spot below her belly button that’s sticky with sweat.
I work my way up her body, kissing every inch I can find until I reach her mouth.
I trace her lips with the fingers that were inside her, matching her smile when her eyelashes flutter open.
“Quincy.” I brush a piece of hair away from her face and gently bite her neck. I can’t get enough of her. “You’re goddamn beautiful.”
“That was …” A sated sigh. Happiness in her exhale, and she leans forward to drape an arm around my neck. “Good.”
“That’s all I get?” I trace her ribs, counting each one. She’s so warm and soft. “That was better than good.”
“Maybe. I’ll never tell.” She reaches for my jeans, toying with the waistband of my briefs. The feel of her hand on my bare skin is distracting. Her sultry grin could make an empire fall. “When do I get to look at you?”
“Do you want to look at me?”
“Yeah.” Her hand dips lower. Fingers brush against the head of my cock, a jolt of pleasure racing through me. “I do.”
I scoot off her and sit up on my knees. Quincy moves with me, legs crossed in front of her and a trail of pink marks across her stomach.
“Take them off.” I bring her hand to the button on my jeans. “Take me out and touch me. You can look all you want.”