Chapter 8
SEBASTIAN
The sun came up too damn soon, hitting me square in the face.
I pried my eyes open, dry and gritty from too little sleep, and immediately regretted it.
With a wince, I rolled my head to look at Taylor, who was sprawled out on his stomach, his far arm hanging off the side of the bed, the other draped over my stomach, his fingers curled into the trail of hair below my belly button.
The room still smelled faintly of the hotel’s harsh detergent, but beneath that was the musk of sex and the ghost of Taylor’s woodsy cologne. The hum of the air conditioner was steady and low, lending a chill to the room.
For a few seconds, I let myself float in that quiet, suspended space between the night we’d had and the day waiting to crash in. But habit tugged me toward the nightstand. I reached for my phone, expecting a barrage of texts from Wyatt, but there was only one, sent over an hour ago.
Wyatt
Celine and I flew out early.
You clearly have some stuff you need to figure out.
Take a couple of days to get your head on straight.
You know where you belong.
My jaw clenched as last night’s argument replayed in my head. Celine had been her usual cutting self, dismissing Taylor as “that goon” with a condescending laugh. I’d brushed her comment off; I was used to her brand of cattiness.
But then he’d looked me dead in the eye and used everything I’d ever told him about my feelings for Taylor to cut me down.
“Sebastian, my god. That guy?” He rolled his eyes, gesturing toward the closed double doors of their suite with a scoff. “I’m embarrassed for you right now. He’s so … what’s the word, darling?” He looked to Celine for guidance.
She lifted her slim shoulder in a shrug while staring down at her blood-red nails. “Basic?” she asked, glancing back up to meet my eyes.
Wyatt pointed at her. “Yes, basic. Exactly.” He turned back to me, his gaze raking over me with obvious disdain. “I honestly can’t believe you ever thought you were in love with him.”
That was the part that had pissed me off the most. Not the condescension or the disbelief. It was the complete disregard for my feelings. The way he so casually rewrote my history. My pain.
So I’d packed my bag and walked out, leaving them to do whatever it was they did when I wasn’t around.
I stared down at Wyatt’s text. The presumption—the casual certainty that I’d come crawling back after “getting my head on straight”—made my jaw clench.
I didn’t belong with him, and hadn’t for a long time, and I was fucking pissed that it’d taken me this long to come to terms with that. To grow a damn spine and get some self-respect.
My thumb moved across the screen.
Me
For the first time in a long while, my head *is* on straight.
You know as well as I do that things haven’t been good between us for a while now.
I’m done.
Goodbye Wyatt.
My hands were shaking.
This was seven years of my life, and I was ending it over text message.
But what else was there to say? I’d become a convenient body he wanted when it suited him. An advisor he once respected but now only sought out when Celine was busy.
I hit send, the swooshing sound feeling too loud in my ears, and set my phone face down on the nightstand before I could see if he’d respond.
The clattering sound made Taylor shift slightly beside me, his arm tightening reflexively around my waist. With a groan, he rolled onto his back, squinting against the light.
“Good morning,” I rasped, my voice not quite steady. “Sleep well?”
“Mmm-hmm.” The mattress creaked as he arched his back and stretched his arms above his head with a wide yawn. “What time is it?”
“Just after seven.”
Taylor rolled onto his side, propping his head onto his open palm. A slight frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to,” I said softly. “Check-out isn’t until noon.”
His brow furrowed, small divots forming between them. “Didn’t you say you had an early flight?”
“Got canceled.” That’s certainly one way of explaining it, I thought, as I slid my hand to his hip and pulled him toward me. “I have all morning.”
“Is that right?” Taylor asked, melting against me.
“What’s your schedule?” I murmured, my lips brushing against his.
“Gotta head to the airport later; otherwise, no plans.”
“So what I’m hearing is you’re mine for the rest of the morning?” I kissed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as my hips flexed forward.
I laced our fingers together, pressing his hands into the pillow on either side of his head, and leaned closer, feeling his breath on my face just before I kissed him, my mouth rough and hungry.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered when we paused to breathe.
I pulled back to stare down at him, unlinking our hands to spread my palms over his chest, his hazel eyes intense as he searched my face for an answer. I wished I had one to give him.
I didn’t have the faintest fucking clue what was happening right now. Ten years without him—my own stupid doing—and here I was, ready to throw everything away for another taste of what we used to have.
I couldn’t seem to get enough of Taylor Morrison, and I couldn’t begin to explain why that was.
I just needed more.
But I couldn’t say any of that.
What I said instead was, “What I’m doing is blowing your mind.” I kissed my way down his chest, nipping at his stomach until I reached the trail of sandy hair leading lower. He was hard and thick, his broad tip flushed. “Among other things,” I added with a smirk as I took him into my mouth.
For the next several minutes, I drove him wild with long, leisurely licks and slow, steady strokes. This morning felt different than last night—no rush, no frantic edge, just a slow rediscovery of what we liked together.
“You keep doing that,” he muttered when I gripped his cock at the base and swirled my tongue around the tip, “and I’m gonna—”
“Exactly,” I said, pulling off and kissing my way down the underside of his shaft. I nuzzled against his heavy sack before dipping lower to press my nose against the warm, musky skin beneath.
Taylor’s breath hitched. “Seb.”
I glanced up the length of his body, keeping my voice soft when I asked, “Can I try something? Please?”
His brows pinched together, uncertainty flashing across his face. “I told you—”
“No fucking, I know,” I finished for him. “This isn’t that.” I blew out a soft puff of air that ghosted over his skin. “Just … trust me?”
Taylor hesitated for what felt like a lifetime, but was actually only two or three seconds before giving a short nod. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Pull your legs back for me.” I tapped his flank.
When he did, tilting his hips at the perfect angle, I spread his cheeks apart and just stared.
Christ.
My mouth watered, my cock jerking hard against my thigh. I had to let go of Taylor to wrap my fist around it, squeezing it hard just to keep myself from losing it right then and there.
I’d dreamed about this back in college—about Taylor letting me touch him here, taste him here—but it had been pure fantasy. Something I jerked off to in the shower, knowing I’d never get the real thing.
“You have no idea what it’s doing to me to see you like this,” I told him, my voice strained. “Back in school, I used to think about this. About getting to taste you here. I’d get myself off imagining how good you’d sound with my tongue on you. In you.”
A flush climbed Taylor’s chest, his cock swelling. I let go of myself to stroke the underside with my fingers, dragging my thumb over the bead of pre-cum at the tip.
“Someone likes knowing how desperate I was for this.”
His laugh was low, almost shy. “You never told me any of this.”
I licked my thumb, sucking the evidence of his arousal into my mouth and holding his gaze. “I never said a lot of things, Taylor.”
“Same,” he agreed, letting out a heavy breath as I continued to stroke his cock fully back to life.
I slid onto my stomach and spread his cheeks back apart, blowing gently over his hole.
The air conditioner kicked on with a soft whir, sending a cool draft across my shoulders. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed, and voices sounded briefly before fading away. But all I could focus on was the heat radiating from Taylor’s skin and how he trembled under my touch.
“If I do anything you don’t like—if this doesn’t feel fucking amazing—just tap my head twice, and I’ll stop immediately. Okay?” I looked up to find him staring down at me, his chest rising and falling with deep, labored breaths.
He nodded. “I will.”
“Thank you,” I said just before my tongue swept out to lick that tight ring of muscle.
His sharp inhale was followed by a startled moan, one hand gripping the back of my head—not to push me away or tell me to stop, thank god—but to hold me against him.
The sounds he made as I loosened him up were obscene. I paused, lips barely grazing his skin to ask, “You hear those sounds you’re making? Music to my ears, Tay.”
I pushed my tongue inside him then, spearing him deep, then drew back to circle the rim in slow, teasing laps. His hole fluttered around me, and fuck, the greedy way it tried to pull me back in made my cock leak against the sheets.
“Look at you,” I groaned against him, swirling my tongue and pressing my face as close to him as I could get so he’d know—so he’d feel—how badly I wanted this. How much I loved it.
Taylor let out a strangled moan, his hips rocking up involuntarily.
I spread him wider, watching the way his hole opened for me, so pretty and wet.
“You’re doing so well,” I murmured against his skin.
His cock jerked against his stomach, leaking freely now.
“You like that, don’t you?” I asked before plunging back in, fucking him with my tongue until his thighs trembled around my ears. “Being told how good you are at something.”
“Fuck, Seb.” His voice cracked, his hips grinding down. “I didn’t know it could feel like this. I never imagined.” Another moan broke free as I circled his rim with the tip of my tongue. “Is this … is this what it feels like to get fucked?”
I smiled against him, my tongue plunging deep again before I pulled back just far enough to speak. “This? This is just the beginning.”
I worked my tongue inside him again, and he let out a string of gibberish that made me smile. “If I had my way, I’d open you up slowly—first like this, then using my fingers.”
“Fuck!” Taylor gasped. “Yes, please.”
His eagerness lit me up from the inside out. After everything he’d told me last night, here he was, wanting more and trusting me to give it to him.
“I’d find that perfect spot inside you—the one that would make your eyes roll back in your head—and I’d show you how good it can be when someone knows what they’re doing.
And only once you were ready—only when you were begging for it—then I’d give you my cock.
Slow and deep at first, so you could feel every inch of me.
Or hard and fast, because that might be what you need instead.
Either way, I’d make sure you loved it.”
His moans grew louder, more ragged, his hips rocking against my mouth with desperate, uncoordinated thrusts. “Jesus, Seb. Fuck.” His voice broke into a harsh cry. “I want that. I want you to fuck me.”
He shouted my name as he came, his whole body going rigid before the tension snapped. I lapped up every drop until he was boneless and spent beneath me, licked completely clean.
“Next time.”
The words hung between us—half promise, half wish.
What was I doing, making promises I couldn’t keep? There might not be a next time. Probably wouldn’t be.
But fuck if I didn’t want there to be.
I needed to focus on this moment. Commit it to memory so I could relive it whenever I wanted.
I pulled back, taking in the sight of him—wrecked and satisfied, chest heaving, looking at me like I’d just given him something he never knew he’d needed.
God, I wanted to fulfill every fantasy I’d just whispered against his skin. Wanted to be the one to show him how good this could be.
But wanting something and having it were two very different things.
Taylor swallowed hard, his eyes tracking to my dick, hard and aching and flushed. “Fuck my face, Seb. Fill me up. I need it.”
I couldn’t find the words, and even if I had them, I didn’t trust my voice.
Instead, I climbed up his body, bracing my knees on either side of his head, and fed him my cock. My head tipped back, a low groan rumbling from my chest as his throat worked around me. I fucked into that tight heat slowly at first, then harder, my hands gripping the headboard for leverage.
Taylor moaned around me, the extra sensation nearly sending me over the edge. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into me to hold me in place as he took me as deep as possible.
I came hard, watching him as he swallowed every last drop.
When the last tremor faded, I carefully pulled back and collapsed beside him on the sweaty, rumpled sheets, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.
Taylor turned onto his side to face me. He reached for my hand, our fingers linking automatically.
Ten years apart, and we still fit.
It made walking away impossible to imagine. But in a few hours, I’d be heading back to D.C., back to a life that suddenly felt empty and bleak.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him.
Fuck. I might not ever be.
I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.