Chapter 16 Sebastian
SIXTEEN
SEBASTIAN
Starling’s idea is insane, and I fucking hate the fact that it might actually work. I might be learning to appreciate her ability to be every bit the psycho I am, but I refuse to allow her to do anything to put herself at risk.
Feeling her surrender earlier, and watching her give complete control over to me, was so heady that a part of me wishes I could take her to the island I bought with the intention of caging her on it, and keep her there naked and at my mercy forever.
But even though I desperately want to keep her my prisoner, it’s time to admit that my little bird isn’t caged anymore, and she hasn’t been for a long time. I might own her body and her heart, but her wings are spread too wide for me to clip them anymore.
She’s strong—a true force to be reckoned with—and if I keep trying to make her into the person she was at sixteen, I’m going to lose her, and that’s simply not an option.
As much as I wish she never thought about leaving me, knowing that she could run and hasn’t has forced both of us to acknowledge what we need from our marriage.
I need to possess and own my wife. I need to be the center of her world and have her understand that she’ll always be the center of mine.
I need her obedience, I need her submission, and I need her to give herself to me willingly and to need me.
I’m still learning what she needs from me, but I know that she needs me to understand that her maturing into a badass woman isn’t a bad thing.
I know she needs me to accept and appreciate how capable and strong she is.
I know she needs me to see that she’s not an interloper in my world anymore, that she’s one of us.
She’s Starling Lockwood. She’s my wife. She’s a fully fledged member of the psycho club, and she’s fucking perfect, caged or not.
Darkness has fallen, but instead of getting up and going downstairs, I ask Armand to make us a platter of Starling’s favorite foods that we can eat in bed.
Although Starling might not love it, I’ve decided that we need a house manager like Sammy and Evan have.
We have plenty of staff housing on the estate, so having an outsider come in twice a week just to clean is stupid when we could employ and house someone to run and organize our home.
Tom’s betrayal has opened my eyes to the risks we face and made me realize that having all of our staff live on-site minimizes the risk of this kind of thing happening again.
I truly thought that the background checks we did on the security staff we employ were enough.
But clearly it needs to be an ongoing process, because staff who seem loyal when we employ them can turn traitor without any real provocation.
After Armand arrives with the food, I bring it all upstairs and lay it out on the bed, watching as Starling’s eyes light up.
My wife has the palate of a bougie toddler, so we have truffle mac and cheese, Wagyu sliders, scallop tacos, and fries covered in parmesan and some kind of oil that makes each one taste like an explosion of flavor.
For dessert, we have tiny doughnut balls that are filled with pistachio cream that melts in your mouth.
“That was amazing,” Starling hums, rubbing her stomach appreciatively as she lifts the last doughnut ball and pops it into her mouth.
“So, you approve of our chef?” I ask, chuckling softly.
“I definitely do, he’s amazing.”
“Good, because I’m going to find us a house manager.”
“Why?” she whines. “We don’t need a house manager, we already have a chef and a cleaner. What would they do?”
“We need someone to manage the house, someone loyal who lives on the estate, who can pass the insanely invasive background check we’ll be doing on everyone who steps foot onto the estate from now on,” I tell her.
Her eyes flash, then immediately subdue. “God, I hate that you’re right.”
“I’ll ask Dawn if she can help interview the applicants.”
“Okay,” Starling says resignedly, her hand resting on her food-engorged belly.
“I can’t wait until it’s our baby, not a food baby, making you look like that,” I tell her, crawling between her legs to press my lips to her belly button.
“It could take months, or even years, for me to get pregnant, and I only agreed to start trying this morning.”
“I’m confident that you’ll get pregnant quickly.”
“What makes you say that?” she asks cautiously.
“Because Dr. Harris is coming in the morning to give you a hormone shot to make you more fertile.”
“Wait, what?” she yells. “I am not getting a fertility shot.”
“You are. I am too. We’re going to do everything in our power to get pregnant as quickly as possible.”
Shaking her head, she purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re being a psycho, Sebastian.”
“That’s not new information, Little Bird,” I purr, lifting all of the plates and leftover food off the bed as I crawl between her thighs, spreading her legs so I can position myself between them.
“Why can’t we just keep having loads of sex and see what happens?” she asks, her tone coaxing.
Sighing, I press a soft kiss to her neck and glide my lips up to her ear. “I want you dripping with my cum, all day every day.”
“That doesn’t sound like a hardship, especially as I’m basically on house arrest until we deal with Courtney,” she whispers softly.
“You’ll never say no to me, will you, Little Bird?” I ask, slipping my hand between her thighs and pushing two fingers into her wet core.
“Never,” she promises.
“You love being used by me, don’t you, Little Whore?”
“So much,” she admits, making me smile.
“Tell me.”
“I love being your little whore,” she pants as I line my dick up with her entrance and fill her, slowly inching into her body.
Pumping into her in gentle slides, I take turns sucking first one nipple, then the other, into my mouth, feeling the way her cunt clenches around my cock when I add a hint of pain to her pleasure.
Unlike earlier, neither of us is desperate or clawing at each other’s skin.
Instead, I fuck her like I have all the time in the world.
Because I do. My wife isn’t going anywhere.
Neither of us gets much sleep, my need for her too heady, my desire to put my baby in her so compulsive that it pains me to watch as my release drips out of her well-used cunt.
I know there are toys and conception aids you can use to try and increase the chances of pregnancy, but I’d rather keep her legs in the air and my dick in her as often as possible.
Her sleepy eyes are still full of heat when I hand her a mug of coffee the next morning.
“Thank you,” she says softly, her nipples dark pink and elongated from me sucking on them so much.
“Do you have schoolwork to do this morning?” I ask, watching her bring the coffee to her lips and drink.
“Probably, although I’m so tired I doubt it’s going to make much sense,” she says, smiling sweetly at me.
“You should sleep some more. I need to speak to Clay and ask him to do a deep dive into Courtney’s family that will take him a couple of hours. Then we’ll have a psycho club meeting later to talk about your plan. You won’t miss anything,” I assure her.
Sipping at her drink, she lifts the mug and stares down at it, like she’s not sure where all the coffee has gone. “I just drank a coffee. All the caffeine is going to kick in, and I’ll be wide awake.”
“I made you decaf, you’ll be fine. But I’m more than happy to make you come. An orgasm will help you sleep,” I suggest, licking my lips as my gaze falls to her pussy, the remnants of my cum still visible at her puffy entrance.
“I don’t think I can come again. You gave me my quota for the month last night.”
“But that’s not your decision, is it?” I ask, lowering my voice to the tone I use when I have to remind her who’s in charge.
“Sebastian.”
“Hold your cunt open for me,” I order.
Instead of protesting, her hand drops between her legs, and she parts her folds, giving me the perfect view of her pussy.
I’d intended to use my mouth on her, but the sight of her spread wide for me, makes my dick twitch, and before I can stop myself, I fist my cock.
Crawling between her thighs, I work my hand up and down my length as I lean down and thrust my tongue into her channel. She tastes like me, but I don’t care.
The sounds that fall from her lips only make my dick harder, and I fuck her with my tongue, finding her clit with my free hand and rubbing until she comes on a cry.
Pushing to my knees, I work my fist up and down my dick until I’m on the verge of release, then I slam my cock into her cunt and fill her with my cum.
Her eyes are glassy and her muscles are lax when I slide my cock out of her and shove a pillow under her ass, tilting her pelvis back.
“God, that shouldn’t even feel good anymore,” she says sleepily.
“If it ever stops feeling good, that’s when we need to worry,” I say, leaning down to kiss her.
“I think I might take a quick nap. But wake me up before you talk to the guys.”
“I promise,” I assure her, pulling the covers over her as I slip from the bed, pausing by the bathroom door as her eyes fall closed.
Taking a quick shower, I check she’s still sleeping peacefully before I pull on pants and a T-shirt and head downstairs.
As requested, Armand has left both of our breakfasts in the kitchen.
My smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel is wrapped in waxy paper in the refrigerator beside Starling’s acai breakfast bowl with fruit, granola, and some slivers of fresh coconut.