8. Sebastian
8
SEBASTIAN
M y cock was a weaponized thing with a hair trigger that threatened to go off at the barest hint of movement. I held still for long moments after Adam fled from me, drinking in the cool air, the dark night, and the heady sensation that little old me had frightened such a legend.
In truth, he had frightened me too.
Simply because holding his heavy cock in my hand had felt as right as sitting Savannah’s pretty pussy on my dick in that town car.
I was a romantic man, an Italian and a writer, so probably more romantic than most. Therefore, I believed in things like fate and kismet, in energies colliding and quantum entanglement.
It was too soon to say I felt those things with these two carefully cultivated people with pretty veneers housing seriously fucked-up demons, but something of it was there. A kind of magic in the touch of flesh to flesh, the sense that I’d spoken to Adam like this before, known him and her in an elemental way that spoke of previous lives or two halves of a whole meeting after a long separation.
I stared down at the hand that had held Adam and had played with Savannah. Such a plain hand, wide palmed and ridged with calluses, long fingers with strong, blunt nails. A workingman’s hand, a peasant’s touch on such precious skin.
The contrast made me feel both powerful and strangely vulnerable.
Could a man like me be allowed to love and keep two people like them?
What happened in the fairy tale when the pauper fell in love with both the prince and the princess?
“I wouldn’t expect much from my husband.”
Savannah’s voice drifted like the scent of English roses through the garden, and a moment later, she appeared through the bushes on the flagstone tiles. She was dressed in white, a color I was gathering was her signature. It was a high-necked dress with overlong, tapered sleeves constructed of a lace so fragile looking I wondered if it would rend under one touch from my strong fingers. Her short, curled blonde hair made a corona of light around her beautiful face, backlit by the house lights spilling into the yard.
She was exquisite, of course.
I felt the primal urge surge through me the way it had when I’d gazed at all of Adam’s unrumpled perfection to muss her up. To put my filthy mark on her and remind her we were both just humans in different packaging.
“I don’t expect anything,” I responded honestly.
My shoulder brushed the swell of an evergreen bush at my side, releasing the pungent piney fragrance. I plucked a little branch of soft pines and twirled it between my fingers as I approached her.
“I’ve been married to him for five years,” she continued as though I hadn’t spoken. Her eyes tracked the movement of the stem around and around in my hand warily, as though the delicate needles were lethal. “He’s the kind of man who is like an iceberg. The ten percent he shows on the surface is dynamic enough to make people think that’s everything that he is. But beneath the water, he is as complicated as they come, and he does not enjoy being known.”
“And you do?” I countered mildly, close enough to sweep the soft, scented pine bough across the curve of her jaw and down her throat. Gooseflesh blossomed under my caress, but she was otherwise unmoved.
“To a certain extent,” she allowed with a haughty tip of her chin. “If the person is worthy.”
“And how does one prove their worth?” I asked, curling over her, crowding her with my body in a way I sensed she would like.
I wondered if there was a theme linking these two married lovers. If they yearned for intimacy just as much as they feared it. If all the celebrity and accolades in the world truly meant nothing in the face of their own self-criticism.
Mama had told me once that people without family were like bottomless wells. No matter how much you tried to fill them up, they remained empty because their foundation was cracked.
I wanted to ask Savvy about her family and upbringing, about that soft Southern grass and the stench of poverty she had spoken of briefly in the town car. My heart wanted to excavate everything she had hidden in the layers of her being, but my head told me it would only lead to rejection, so I focused instead on swirling the pine needles over the shell of her ear.
She shivered slightly, then lashed out to grab my wrist, stalling my movements. When her eyes met mine, they were slate blue with cold resolve.
“You prove it by being loyal to me .” Her other hand reached up to my cheek, her thumb nail scraping along the stubble already sprouting along the edge of my jaw. “I found you, Sebastian. I will be the one to show you love and care. I will be the one to bring you fame and success.”
A vague sense of alarm trilled through me, but I was distracted by the way she curled her fingers around my ear and yanked me closer to her glistening, raspberry-painted mouth.
When she spoke next, I tasted champagne on my tongue as she breathed the words into my mouth. The way this encounter mimicked my prior one with Adam was slightly eerie, but again, I was too lulled by Savannah’s utterly feminine sensuality to take proper note.
“You’re mine,” she whispered before sliding her small tongue over my bottom lip. “For as long as you are in this home, you’re mine more than anyone else’s. Not your mother’s, not your father’s, not your friends’. Not Adam’s. But mine.” Her sharp, straight teeth bit into my lip and tugged so pain burst brightly through me. “Can you do that for me, handsome? Can you give yourself to me like that?”
The teenage boy in me wanted to howl yes to the moon swollen and fertile in the sky above us, but the small part of me who had earned my manhood young defending and providing for my family as the sole responsible man of the house took pause.
“Can you give me you in return?” I asked, collaring her throat gently in my hand, the pine needles crushed between our skin so their fragrance permeated the air.
“What I offer isn’t enough?” she asked, her eyes low-lidded with lust but her voice still crisply superior.
“Nothing is free,” I said, even though the words reminded me of Adam, of the hypocrisy of me saying that when I’d just argued with him that freedom was a choice.
“If you work hard,” she purred, tracing her free hand from mid-chest to the curve of her hip and over her belly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Well…” My voice was in my gut as I moved us back, back until her shoulders met the wall in the shadows at the side of the house, obscured from the door by the evergreen hedge. I followed the path her touch had just carved on her body until I found her hand at her hip, then clasped our fingers. Together, I used them to gather the hem of her knee-length dress up and up until it was clenched in her palm, and her sheer nude panties with a slight frill were exposed to my gaze. A wicked grin flexed between my cheeks as I slowly lowered myself to the hard flagstones to take care of my second Meyer of the evening. “I better get busy then.”
Savannah’s hands sank into my hair on a soft sigh, and her head hit the house siding with a gentle thwack as she gave herself over to me.
It always confounded me how a man could dislike going down on a woman. The power of being the one allowed to pleasure her most vulnerable place, the taste of her sweet arousal as it started to leak out of her soft folds onto your tongue like so much honey. It was heady, addictive.
I could have spent hours on my knees on the uncomfortable flagstone servicing my duchessa .
My nose pressed into the mound of her clit as I breathed in her intoxicating scent, and when she squirmed, I rubbed it back and forth over the bundle of nerves.
“You have to be quiet for me, Savvy,” I said. “Can you be good for me and swallow your cries?”
She gasped as I opened my lips over her through the mesh fabric and sucked her clit into my mouth, laving it with my tongue. The abrasion of the wet panties over her sensitive flesh made her hips jerk against me.
“Do you think I can make you come without even taking these off?” I taunted her, snapping a finger in the elastic at her thigh so she gasped again. “Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do. Make you drench these with your cum and send you back into the party smelling like sex.”
“Sebastian,” she moaned, half scandalized and half aroused.
I loved that about her. That smooth transition from lady to wanton and knowing it was all because of me.
The angle wasn’t good enough to feast on her properly, so I tugged her hips into my grasp, and her legs automatically locked over my shoulders so her sex was tipped up into my mouth. I growled my approval into her sweet pussy and renewed my efforts to make her come apart for me.
Laughter from inside drifted out the open French doors onto the patio, but I liked the risk of discovery, knowing anyone could find us locked together in the dark. The game of playing the Meyers’s chauffeur but being their secret lover was salacious and sexier than I could have ever imagined.
They knew they shouldn’t have me, yet they couldn’t help themselves.
My cock kicked in the confines of my trousers, but I focused all my attention on the pretty pussy in front of me. I curled the fingers of one hand beneath the soaked edge of her underwear and slowly pressed two into the snug heat of her cunt. The wet sounds of my pumping fingers were lewdly loud in the quiet dark.
“ Una figa così graziosa ,” I murmured against the inside of her thigh. “Such a pretty pussy, Savvy. And so wet for me. Do you want to come already? Are you that eager to come apart on my tongue?”
I twisted my fingers inside her and rubbed at her front wall until her legs spasmed around my head and her face clenched with sharp-edged arousal. She was so fucking gorgeous like that, wrecked for me, only my shoulders and my fingers wedged inside her tight heat keeping her aloft.
“They might hear you inside,” I whispered because there was no insecurity with Savannah, not like this. She was no longer the British lady but that Southern teenage girl lying in the grass, touching herself and wishing for filthy, desperate fantasies. “Some of the guests might touch themselves to the sound of your gasps later tonight. Would you like that?”
She did. Her breath coming fast and heavy, a furious pink blush spilling down from her neck to her chest in the cowl-neck of her dress. She wanted to be desired by everyone almost as much as she wanted to be respected and admired by them. It was a delicate balance to strike, but I thought she thoroughly succeeded.
I smiled before running my tongue over the place my fingers fucked and then up to her swollen clit to give it a long suck.
Her fingers in my hair turned to claws, and her hips gave little aborted jerks as she fought to get closer and squirm away from the intense feeling unfurling between her legs. I didn’t let her move an inch. She was mine at this moment, even if she couldn’t truly be mine in any other.
Her underwear was saturated with my spit and her leaking juices, the combination all over my chin as I ate at her regardless of the mess. When she came with a wail she muffled in the crook of her elbow, I licked up every inch of her dripping pussy until she was done shaking.
“Sebastian,” she whispered the way a disciple might murmur the name of a deity at temple. “Sebastian.”
I memorized her tone and the exact way her mouth formed the letters of my name so I would never forget what it felt like to be revered by a woman I admired so much.
“Savannah,” I praised her lavishly in the single word then pressed a kiss to the inside of each pale, smooth thigh, in love with the vulnerability of those thin-skinned curves. “My gorgeous duchessa .”
I rested back on my heels to gently lower her to the ground, keeping my hands on her hips to steady her as she wobbled slightly.
“You did so well for me,” I told her as I gently rubbed a finger over the drenched placket of her panties and adjusted them slightly so they sat better over her swollen pussy. When I looked up at her from my knees while I adjusted the folds of her skirt back down over her thighs, her gaze was black, pupils blown wide, mouth a lax oval of shock and tenderness.
She looked in that second almost… scared of me. And when she stepped back slightly out of my grasp, her spine was pressed flat to the wall like she couldn’t bear to be close to me any longer.
“Savvy,” I breathed, opening my hand between us like a gentleman before a lady in the British court, a strangely polite gesture given what we’d just done but my dirty girl was gone and in her place that buttoned-up lady.
She shook her head slightly then stopped suddenly like she’d given too much away.
“The party,” she told me with an abstract wave of her hand, already shuffling to the side to reenter the house. “I must get back.”
I put my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Okay, duchessa , have a good time.”
She nodded, but didn’t look at me as she turned and walked delicately around the barren bushes back into the house where the noise and glamor swallowed her whole.
And I remained alone in the dark wondering why the two people who had invited me into their home to be their lover had both just run away from me like the devil was chasing them.