Chapter 14 Interrupted
FOURTEEN
INTERRUPTED
ANNALIESE
Are you afraid to be alone with your husband?
Am I?
Of course not. I’m not afraid of this man, husband or not. But if I’m being honest with myself… I might be a little wary of being alone with a stunningly attractive man that I can’t help but be drawn to.
That’s just me, though. We’ve been married for almost a month, and the mixed signals are driving me fucking crazy.
Sometimes I can’t help but feel like he’s hiding her, but at the same time, we’ve gone on dates.
He’s not enforcing the Order’s ‘sleeping in the same bed’ rule, but he visits me enough that I don’t think that he has a devoted side piece.
Does that mean he isn’t visiting the Used?
No… and I can’t ask him. I just… I can’t.
This was a magical afternoon. Riding his bike after he basically told me that that was what we were doing today was freeing, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy spending time with him… but it’s fake. It’s fake. I’m only fooling myself when I think ‘what if’.
What if I could really love Sebastien Reynolds? What if he could love me?
What if this marriage could be real…
I shake my head. “I’m not afraid of you, Sebastien.”
“That’s good to hear. But,” he adds, waving his hand in the few inches that exist between my chest and his while we’re both sitting on his dead motorcycle, “you are afraid of this. Of us.”
Shit.
I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that he knows he’s right.
So I tell him the one thing that I cling to whenever the feelings get too real: “Id doesn’t matter. What we have… this is fake, Sebastien.”
Moments ago, he was chuckling, not concerned in the least that the bike he built with his own two hands had crapped out on him.
He was amused, while I was frustrated, but a swift change suddenly comes over him.
He tosses his helmet to the dirt. His jaw tight, he swings his leg, climbing off of the bike.
The kickstand is still down so I don’t do anything but bounce slightly from the momentum of his quick move before he’s right in front of me.
Gentle yet firm hands lift my helmet from my head.
Sebastien drops it beside his, and in one fluid movement, grips my jaw, tilting my head back, kissing me. He’s strong enough to keep me right where he wants me, and I’m helpless to do anything but sit on the back of the bike while Sebastien kisses me deeply.
I go lightheaded. When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m too dazed to react as he lowers his hands to my ass. Next thing I know, he’s lifting me up, taking me off of the motorcycle, settling me on my sneakers directly in front of him.
“Fake?” he grates out. He snatches my hand, shoving it against the front of his jeans. “Does this feel fake to you?”
My fingers find the hard, heavy length of him straining against his jeans.
Oh.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Especially not when I’ve already slept with him.
I know exactly what it feels like to have his dick inside of me, stretching me out.
Of course I make him aroused. Between his extensive sexual history and how we met…
honestly? I’d be offended if he wasn’t attracted to me after we got married.
But he never touched me again. Not like this. And because he didn’t, I couldn’t, and now… I ghost my fingers over the denim, wishing there wasn’t any of the fabric separating my questing fingers from his erection.
“Tell me, love? Does that feel fake?” he demands. His breath is hot on my ear, his voice shredded. His arm is wrapped around me, making it so that I can’t do anything but stroke him through his jeans.
I shake my head.
Sebastien groans, dropping his. He kisses my throat, tongue dragging against my fluttering pulse. Sucks on a patch of skin under my jaw, thrusting into my hand.
“This is real,” he grunts out. “It’s always been real. And if you think it’s not… that’s my fucking fault. I tried to be good. I tried to give you time, get to know me… because, fuck. I want to know you. Don’t you want to know me?”
He sounds so vulnerable all of a sudden, all I can do is be honest back: “I do… and I really, really want to touch you.”
He barks out a laugh. “Oh, love… I want that more than you know.”
“Really?”
Disentangling himself from our embrace, he leans back enough to reach for the button on his jeans. He quickly undoes it, then jerks down his zipper. Digging into his jeans, he grabs his cock, freeing it, and I have to bite down hard to keep from moaning.
Cocks aren’t pretty. Sorry. I’ve only had two lovers, but I’ve seen more than a few, and they’re all kinda weird.
I much prefer what they do to me, how they make me feel, than what they look like.
That’s why, when I fucked Sebastien in the bathroom of the Last Prayer, I barely paid attention.
I just climbed on his lap, guiding it into me, and riding him in a way that Eric rarely let me.
For him, sex meant I needed to be submissive.
With Sebastien, he didn’t seem to mind me taking control the first time. And now…
I grab him. He grunts, and I realize that I need a little friction. Releasing him just long enough to lick my palm, I take him in hand again and begin to stroke.
He bucks into my fist. “Yes. Yes. You do that… you keep on fucking touching me just like that, love, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.
Ask me anything. Get to know me.” With a quick shove, he pushes his jeans down past his ass, then his underwear.
He spreads his legs, bracing them in the dirt, giving me full access to his cock as he pants my name.
“Annaliese… I want you to want me. Not just because I’m Bas Reynolds. But because I’m your Sebastien.”
I’m distracted. I can see his dark blond curls, plus the thick cock jutting out from them.
He’s shifting his hips a little, forcing me to move with him until I take over the stroking myself, and while the one thing I really want to know is what Sebastien looks like when he comes in my hand, I think about what he said.
He wants to know me. He wants me to know him.
Think, Annaliese. You’re organized. There isn’t anything you can do with a binder, a pen, and a checklist. You certainly can give your husband a handjob and ask him some questions about himself at the same time.
Right?
“Um. What’s your favorite color?”
His eyes were heavy-lidded, more closed than not, but he quirks them open. Yeah, yeah. I know that was a stupid question, but I make up for it by licking my thumb, swirling it around the head of cock, before returning to jerking him off.
He grunts. “It used to be black. But now I think it’s brown. Like your hair… unh. And your eyes.”
Charmer. I smile, increasing the pace. “You a cat lover or a dog lover? And don’t say none because I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t like animals.”
“Cat,” he gasps. “But that’s because Adrian got into Loni’s pants after he rescued a pair from the shelter. If a pussy can get me back in your pussy, love, then give me a cat anyday.”
My cheeks heat up. To hear him talk so boldly…
filthily like that… I dart out my tongue, dabbing the corner of my mouth as the veins in his neck stand out.
He’s gotta be close. I hope so. I’ve done every trick that I was ever taught to pleasure a lover, and a few I’m picking up now because Sebastien is the most receptive one I’ve ever had…
He’s gritting his teeth. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen.
“What are you thinking about right this very second?” I ask.
His gaze snaps to mine, hungry and bright. You want to know?”
I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. “Yes.”
“Just how badly I want to bend you over my bike and fuck you until you admit that I’m your husband and you’re my wife.”
My entire body jolts. His cock slips out of my hand, I’m so stunned by his admission. He winces, and I grab him again, moving my hand faster and faster as if the rhythm of my arm is enough to knock his heated words out of my head.
He can tell he spooked me. I don’t think he regrets being so honest, though he is quick to add: “But not today.” I’m touching him, but he’s touching me now, reaching out, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face, his breath ragged as he tells me, “Not until you’re ready, love. After all, we have forever.”
That’s what Sebastien thinks.
“We have until March,” I correct weakly.
Rather than tell me that I’m wrong, he lunges forward, biting down on my bottom lip just hard enough to have me gasping. At the same time, I squeeze the head of his cock, and he comes hard, hips jerking, hot come spilling all over my fingers.
Sebastien releases his bite. His hand covers mine, guiding it through the aftershocks as he comes down from his climax.
Only then, once he has, does he shift his hold on me. His fingers circle my wrist, tugging my jizz-covered hand up until all I can smell is his come. Slightly bleachy and almost sweet, he forces me to look at it.
And then he grins. A crooked grin that’s all Sebastien, with a hint of a wicked, devilish edge as he says with a dare, “You made this mess, love. Now clean it up.”
I do. Darting my tongue up, I lap at his come, licking as much of it as I can from my fingers as he watches, lust brightening up his dark eyes.
“Shit, Annaliese.” He shudders. “You’re such a good fucking girl. Look at you. Do you always do what you’re told?”
Honestly?
I lift up my head. “No. Not always,” I tell him, and I give him my own daring look as I smear the rest of it across the front of his leather jacket.
His lips twitch, expression both amused and approving. “You’re still my good girl, love.”
As Sebastien tucks his spent cock back into his jeans, as the erotic high of what we just did together slows starts to come down… suddenly, I have a different question for him that I have to ask.
“Am I really? Because… I don’t know. It seems like I’m being kept as your secret. Like you’re hiding me,” I say before I can stop myself. “Just like—”
His eyes sharpen. “Just like who, Annaliese?”
I glance away. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. After all, the contract doesn’t say—”
He snorts, followed by a laugh that is more bitter than I would’ve expected. “Right. The contract.” He jerks up his zipper with more force than necessary. “The fucking contract. The same contract that says if intimacy is desired, it must be consensual, private, and free of obligation.”
Holy shit. He got that clause word for word.
I wonder why that’s the only section that really imprinted on my fake husband? As though, when it comes down to it, the only part of our fake marriage that means anything at all is sex?
And, yes, I told him he could have that if he wanted.
All along, he hasn’t… so what changed? And why is he looking at me now like I did something wrong when I did exactly what he wanted?
I jerked him off. I asked him questions.
I licked his come—and I did it all out here in the mountains, which is nice and private and hidden, isn’t it?
I lift my chin, gesturing with my damp hand around the overlook.
“Can’t get more private than this, Sebastien.
And if we’re quoting the contract, it also says monogamy isn’t required.
That discretion is preferred. You want me to get to know you?
Here’s a question. What’s your opinion on monogamy during our marriage? ”
Sebastien stalks toward me. “Why are you asking? You looking for a side piece?”
I’m not afraid of my husband. I’m not. But the way he’s suddenly looming over me…
I back up, darting around him putting some space between us. Four feet, five, maybe six… I just need to be able to breathe, and the way his eyes are following me, the most predatory look I’ve ever seen on his features… I need him to stay over there until I can understand what the hell is going on.
“What? No, I—”
Before I can finish what I was saying, I feel my phone buzzing in my back pocket.
What the… He said there was no service, but maybe he just meant that it was crap. That I needed to walk around to find a spot where my find would work.
I dip my fingers into my pocket.
“Annaliese,” he begins. “We need to talk about this.”
No, we don’t, because I’m already looking at the screen.
Randa
WHERE ARE YOU?? I NEED YOU!!!
My heart sinks all the way down to my sneakers. Normally, a text like that would just mean my little sister is overreacting. But she’s seventeen, so close to being an adult, she can taste it, and the only thing that would have her messaging me like that was if… if…
Eric.
No.
I look over at Sebastien, the sudden panic so overwhelming, I can barely speak. We’re stuck here. I could call Miranda, ask her to come get us, but what if she’s in trouble? What if she’s in danger? What if—
As though he can tell that something is wrong, Sebastien marches toward me. He plucks the phone right from my hand, reading the message my sister sent.
“Everything okay?” he asks me.
I snatch my phone back. “It’s my sister. She needs me. And your bike is broken.”
A slightly abashed look flutters over Sebastien’s face. Digging into his own pocket, he returns to his bike. I don’t know what it is that he does, but a second later, he revs the engine, the motorcycle coming back to life.
He steps around me, kneels by the bike.
I blink. “You said it was broken.”
My husband has the nerve to look unrepentant. “It was. Now it isn’t.”
Sebastien did something to it. To keep me with him, to spend this time with me… he messed with his bike. Or maybe he just got lucky… I don’t know. I don’t care. If he can get me back to Harmony Heights—back to Miranda—then I can forgive him anything.
Still, as he scoops up my helmet, holding it out to me before grabbing his own, I can’t help but say, “I thought you said you didn’t do a good job on Betsy.”
“You’re right. I did say that, love.” Slapping his motorcycle helmet onto his head, Sebastien swings his leg over his seat before holding his hand out so that he can help me on. “But that’s because I did an excellent fucking job with my girl.”