Chapter 37 #2
I thought about the man I’d watched these last few months take a failing campaign and turn it into a winning one. The man who went toe-to-toe with his parents last night. Who’d stood in that hotel suite and held himself together through sheer force of will while his entire life blew up around him.
“You are. You’re Sebastian Fucking Carruthers, and you are a goddamn badass.”
He gave me a flat look. “I don’t feel like a badass.”
Something clicked into place as I stared at him. Sebastian had spent the last twenty-four hours—hell, even the weeks before that—having every ounce of control stripped from him, and his instinct, even now, was to give up more rather than take.
I stood, softly pinching his chin between my thumb and forefinger, and tipped his head back. “You want to make me feel good, Seb?”
He nodded, his pupils dilating.
“Then use me. Fuck me like your life depends on it. Like mine does.”
“Tay,” he breathed out.
“That’s it. That's all I want from you, Seb.”
With a low growl, he surged to his feet, knocking me backward, his hands coming up to grip my face. “I fucking love you,” he said right before his mouth crashed into mine, his momentum carrying us into the wall at my back.
Eventually, he tore away, breathing hard, and began yanking his clothes off.
I matched him piece for piece, and when we were both naked and breathing hard, he turned, reaching for his toiletry bag and pulling out a bottle of lube. He thumbed it open, never breaking eye contact, and slicked himself up. “Turn around.”
I spun to face the wall, bracing my hands against it.
Sebastian pressed the full length of his body against mine and kissed my shoulder. “Tell me to stop.”
I shook my head, rolling my forehead against the rough wallpaper. “Never.”
He bit me where he’d just kissed me, and my cock jolted, pre-cum leaking from the tip.
I felt the pressure of one slick finger at my hole, pushing in, before it was almost immediately joined by a second. I arched into it, not caring about the burn. I wanted the ache. Needed it as much as I needed him.
He added a third, and I bit my lip, grinding down onto his hand, desperate to show him that I could take it.
That I would take it.
“More.”
He pumped his fingers roughly in and out of me until the pain turned to pleasure.
“Now, Seb.”
He pulled free and, in one quick motion, flung me onto the mattress. I bounced, and he was suddenly there, pushing my knees back and lining himself up.
He pushed forward, letting out a groan from between clenched teeth as he breached me. I held his gaze, refusing to so much as blink, even as the pressure threatened to split me open. When he bottomed out, our eyes locked, his pupils blown wide, black eating up amber.
“Do it,” I breathed out.
I watched a play of emotions flash across his face—concern, awe, lust, sorrow, and concern again. He wanted this, needed it even, but he didn’t trust it. Didn’t know if what I was offering was truly his to take.
“Use me, Seb. Let go.”
Something in him snapped then, and he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in.
From there, he set a brutal pace, pistoning into me with an urgency that bordered on violence.
I lost track of everything except the sharp slap of skin, the sting of his grip on my thigh, the fullness of him inside me.
He fucked like a man possessed, and I encouraged him, digging my nails into his shoulder blades, wrapping my arms around his neck to keep him close.
He gasped my name as he pulled all the way out, then flipped me over onto my stomach, yanking my hips up and driving in again, pounding against that spot inside me that made my body quake and my eyes screw shut as I tried desperately not to come.
I clawed at the sheets, my mouth open, somewhere between panting and screaming, not recognizing the noises coming out of me.
Sebastian gripped the back of my neck—not enough to hurt, just to hold me where he needed me, to remind me that I was his—as his hips slammed against my ass, every thrust sending sparks up my spine.
“Fuck, Taylor,” he choked out. “I can’t—”
“Give it to me,” I rasped, pushing back to meet him.
He let out a strangled sob, burying his face between my shoulder blades as he shot into me, hot and pulsing, setting off my own orgasm.
I came, hands free, in messy spurts over the blankets, my whole body trembling as Sebastian collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving against my back.
We stayed like that, sticky and spent, until our breathing slowed and the world came back into focus. Then he slipped out of me, rolling onto his side and dragging me back against him to trace lazy circles over my stomach.
I ran my fingers through the hair on his arms. “Feel better?”
I felt him nod against the back of my head before he kissed my neck softly. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, rolling to face him, my head propped on my hand. “I asked you to. I wanted it.”
He searched my face like he was looking for the lie, but he wouldn’t find it. I’d be sore later, but I’d let him use me like this a thousand times over if it gave him even a modicum of peace.
He leaned in to kiss me, that earlier desperation melting into something softer. I moved onto my back, taking him with me. We kissed for a long time after that, Sebastian rocking gently against me. This wasn’t about fucking now. It was about using each other for comfort.
For softness.
For love.
I knew tonight hadn’t fixed anything for Sebastian. Not really.
But it had made things better, if only just for now.
And that counted for something. It had to.