Chapter 31 Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
I didn’t plan to come over here.
That’s the lie I tell myself as I pull the mask from the glove compartment and slide it over my face.
This isn’t desperation.
Or losing control.
This is… recalibration.
Pushing the door open, I climb from my car and walk through the darkness, sticking to the shadows.
It sucked having to wait this long, but I had no other choice. Daylight was just too risky.
I slip around to the back of her house.
Her patio door is unlocked. Not surprisingly, even though it makes me grit my teeth. Ivy lives like the world is exactly as safe as she expects it to be. She has a false sense of security that just because she was in danger once, it won’t happen again.
I step inside quietly, closing it behind me with deliberate care.
Her house smells like her. Clean linen, vanilla sugar, something soft and faintly floral underneath. Familiar and warm.
I take two steps forward.
Ivy stands at the end of the hallway, barefoot, wearing my sweatshirt. Her eyes widen when they land on me. Fear flashes in them for a second before recognition settles in.
And then—hunger.
Her lips part. Her pupils blow wide. Her chest lifts on a sharp inhale she doesn’t bother to hide.
That’s not what I expected.
I take another step toward her.
She doesn’t move back. “Sebastian,” she breathes, like she tastes my name on her tongue.
I tilt my head. “Is that disappointment I hear, Ivy?”
She swallows. Hard. Then shakes her head.
I chuckle, the sound dark, as I cross the rest of the distance between us slowly, deliberately—giving her every chance to retreat.
She doesn’t.
I back her into the wall with nothing but my presence, my body close enough that she can feel heat without contact. I brace one arm beside her head, caging her in without touching her.
“Did you miss me, Ivy?” My gloved hand slides to her face, then lower, my thumb tracing over her pulse, which beats wildly in her throat.
Her breath hitches, but she remains silent.
She stares up at me with a look I recognize. One I’ve seen on my face in the mirror.
I lean in just enough to whisper, “What’s wrong, Ivy? You look a little… turned on.”
Her breath stutters.
Up close, I see everything.
The way her gaze stays dark and unfocused.
The way her chest rises too fast.
The way she presses into the wall like it’s grounding her.
I wait.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away.
I lower my face so my lips hover near hers. My gloved fingers glide along the side of her neck. Her pulse jumps violently beneath my touch.
I smile beneath the mask.
“Cat got your tongue?” I ask with a smirk.
She tilts her chin up. Defiant. Wanting.
My hand settles around her throat. Not squeezing. Just there.
Her breath catches again, sharp and unmistakable.
Her pupils are blown wide with desire. Her pink lips part slightly.
Her eyes drop to my lips before slowly trailing over the mask. Her tongue darts out, licking her bottom lip.
“You have a mask kink,” I say softly. “Don’t you, my little intruder?”
Her lips curve in a slow, dangerous smirk. “I do,” she whispers, “Only when it’s you.”
Something in my chest snaps into place.
I lean closer—close enough that my forehead nearly touches hers.
“Careful,” I murmur. “You’re playing with fire, Ivy.” My lips move to her ear. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t say things like that to your stalker?”
Her hands curl into the fabric of my hoodie.
She doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t need to.
I straighten just enough to look down at her again, my hand still warm at her throat, my thumb brushing her pulse once more.
“This is your grand gesture?” she asks, breathless.
I tilt my head. “No,” I say quietly. “This is me admitting you were right.”
Her smile deepens.
And I realize—too late—that I didn’t come here just to lure her back. I came here to let her see exactly what she’d awakened.
My hand slides into the pocket of the hoodie that used to be mine. I pull out her bright pink lipstick, holding it up between us.
She looks at it, then at me.
I grin, then open it. I slowly apply it to her lips, and she lets me.
When I’m finished, I cap it and put it back.
“You marked my mirror.” My hand slides to the fall of her hair. “Now it’s time you mark me.”
Then I kiss her.
She tastes like strawberries and forbidden fantasies.
And most of all, my ruin.
But right now, I don’t care. Not when her soft lips move against mine. Not when she whimpers, and the sound is like heaven—and hell.
I’m caught in her web.
But right now, with this kiss, I’m letting her know she’s caught in mine, too.
She did this.
She pulled this version of me out into the light.
When I finally pull away, we’re both breathing heavily.
My hand moves back to her throat, loose. Present. My thumb doesn’t press—just hovers close enough that she feels the threat of it.
Her breath is uneven now. Shallow. Like she’s forgotten how to slow it down.
I watch her face instead of her body.
The way her eyes stay locked on mine. The way her lips part like she’s about to speak—but doesn’t.
The way she waits to see what I’m going to do next.
“Look at you,” I murmur. “All confidence when you’re breaking into my house. Leaving messages. Touching what isn’t yours.”
Her pulse jumps again under my thumb.
“But the second I show up,” I continue softly, “you go quiet.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. Challenging. Waiting.
I lean in just enough that she can feel my breath through the mask, my voice low and steady in her ear. “Is that because you like being watched,” I ask, “or because you like being caught?”
Her throat works as she swallows.
I don’t give her time to answer. “I think,” I say, “you like knowing exactly how much control you don’t have.”
Her hands twitch at her sides. She doesn’t touch me, but she also doesn’t pull away.
Smart girl.
I drag my knuckle slowly down the side of her neck, reminding her I’m here. And that I’m not going anywhere.
“You planned this,” I say quietly. “Every step. Every open door. Every mark you left behind.”
Her breath stutters.
“But you didn’t expect me to stop pretending.”
I tilt my head, studying her reaction as my words land.
“You wanted a response,” I continue. “And you got it. But you didn’t know which version of me you’d get.”
Her lips curve, like she’s proud of what she’s done.
“Tell me,” I say softly. “Was this the version you were hoping for?”
She exhales slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “Yes.”
The word hits harder than it should.
“Things are going to go a little differently now.”
She stares at me, not saying a word.
“You don’t move unless I tell you to. You don’t touch unless I say you can.”
Her breathing accelerates. Her eyes darken with interest.
“And you won’t be breaking into my house anymore,” I add, calm and controlled. “I’m taking you with me.” Her pulse goes wild beneath my thumb. “And you don’t get to leave without permission.”
She stares at me, breathing hard.
I smile under the mask. “Understand?”
She nods.
I pull my hand away slowly—deliberately—leaving the absence behind like a brand.
“Stay right there,” I say.
I back away, my eyes on hers. She doesn’t move.
Good fucking girl.
I step into the kitchen.
The quiet stretches.
I imagine her standing exactly where I left her—back against the wall, pulse racing, wondering what I’m about to do.
Won’t she be surprised when she sees this?
I return with a silver knife from the butcher block. I hold it up so she can see it.
“Your dad’s not here?”
She shakes her head, eyes still on the blade. Tongue darting out, licking her bottom lip.
I step closer, my boots thudding against the hardwood floor. She’s still pressed against the wall, exactly the way I left her.
“Good.” In a flash, I grab her leggings and yank them down to her ankles, just like the male character did to the female in the book she wrote.
She gasps, eyes shining.
I stare at her, seeing the desire bloom. The shock changes to a salacious smile.
“You like this, don’t you, my precious vine.”
She shudders when I press my lips next to her ear, gently grazing it.
“My Ivy. Clinging to me and everything I own like it’s hers.”
She licks her lips, skin pebbling with goosebumps. She squirms beneath the intensity of my gaze.
“Bet your panties are soaked.” I adjust my hold on the knife, letting the handle graze her bare skin. “You ache for me, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word is breathy. “So much.”
I tug her closer to me, and while still holding the knife, pull the sweatshirt over her head.
She stands there in her bra and panties. A matching set—bright pink with white hearts. Very much Ivy.
I push her back against the wall, and she leans into it like it’s the only thing holding her up.
“These are adorable.” Then I take the knife and slice the thin fabric of her underwear, first one side, then the other, being careful not to nick her skin. “Too bad I just ruined them.”
She glances at the heap of fabric now on the floor, then at me.
“I’ll buy you a new pair.” I slide the knife’s handle between her cleavage, over her stomach, and to her bare pussy.
A whimper slides from her lips. It’s a little bit of fear… but a whole lot of desire laced in the sound.
“I’ll buy you ten pairs.”
She tries to spread her legs, but the leggings pooled at her ankles prevent her from getting them as wide as she wants. A frustrated moan slips out.
“Tsk. Tsk. Impatient little vine.”
She grits her teeth. “Stop teasing.”
I shake my head, an evil laugh coming out. “You made me wait, Ivy.” I lean closer, pulling the edge of the mask up so my lips can graze hers. “It’s your turn.”
She tries to kiss me, but I pull back. I brush the handle of the knife against her clit, then lower. She moans, her head falling back against the wall.
“Please, Sebastian.”
I chuckle darkly. “You can beg.” I press the tip of the knife against her leg. “I like it.”
She opens her mouth, but I cut her off.
“But it won’t change anything.”
She huffs. My smile widens.
I keep pressing the handle against her pussy, watching as she wiggles her hips, trying to take it inside.
“Oh, my girl wants me to fuck her with a knife, huh?”
She nods. “Yes. Please.”
“Lift your foot.”
She complies, and I pull her leggings off one leg. As I straighten, I tug it around my hip.
I hover close to her lips, but don’t kiss her. Not yet. Not after she stayed away so long.
“Please stop teasing.” She tries to arch, but my hold on her tightens, keeping her where I want her.
I stare at her, not saying anything. I keep rubbing the handle along her lips, feeling her leg tremble around me.
And then I slide it inside. My hand wraps around her throat, not choking her, just holding her there as I work the handle deeper. Her foot digs into my ass, a moan slipping free.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Be a good fucking girl and take the knife.”
She moans as I slide it deeper, then slowly out. The blade cuts into the fabric of my gloves, but I don’t care. It can slit my skin, but I won’t stop.
I watch her face as I fuck her. She looks so gorgeous caught in the throes of passion. Helpless to do anything except feel the metal inside her body.
I release her throat and carefully drop to my knees in front of her. She looks surprised as her head tilts forward, watching me.
My mouth wraps around her clit, teasing it with my tongue, while I fuck her faster with the handle. I hear her head bump the wall as she crumbles against it, palms flat.
I start licking, then suck her into my mouth. Her leg is over my shoulder, using me and the wall to keep from sliding to the floor.
Her moans grow louder, chest heaving, as I lick her faster, moaning as I suck on her clit. Her pussy is soaked, the sounds of the knife moving in and out flowing beneath the fabric of the mask.
Her entire body trembles as she moans my name. “Sebastian. Oh, God. I’m gonna—”
I suck her harder, fucking her faster with the knife, ignoring the way it’s cutting into the glove.
And then she’s screaming my name, falling over the cliff. She arches into my mouth, her body shuddering as she comes on the knife.
I slowly pull it out, then move lower, tasting her come. Her sweaty palms slide against the wall, making a screeching sound. Her leg grips me tighter, like she’s trying not to fall.
I toss the knife on the floor, my hands gripping her ass, holding her steady as I feast on her. She tries pulling away, muttering “sensitive,” but I don’t let her go.
And then she’s wiggling around, trying to get away, but I don’t let her. I keep licking and sucking on her until she begins shaking again, screaming my name as she has yet another orgasm.
I hold her tight, licking her through it until she stills. Then I lower her to the floor, pushing the knife away, her back and head leaning against the wall, panting.
Licking my lips, I stare at her flushed face. Her green eyes are like emeralds, vibrant in the lights from the living room that spill into the hallway.
I lift the mask higher so she can see my face.
“You’re mine, now, Ivy,” I smirk. “And I’m yours.”
Her eyes glow.
“The man you stalked belongs to you.”
A slow smile curves her lips.
“Don’t look so victorious.” My hand wraps around her throat. I kiss her cheek, then hover over her lips.
“You belong to your stalker. And if you think I’m letting you go, you’re mistaken.”
Then my mouth seals over hers, my kiss a promise I fully intend to keep.