chapter 39
Remi
MY LEGS ARE STILL SPREAD, hanging over the arms of the chair, and Seb is on his knees in front of me, his lips and chin glistening with my juice.
I came so hard that my insides are tired, as if I just did a twenty-minute ab exercise.
But no—all I did was sit here, sprawled open, and let him devour me.
Fuck, he’s good. I wonder how many women he’s eaten out to know how to do it like that.
The thought makes me a little jealous, but in a way that’s a turn on—in a way that makes me want to have his cock inside me, to wrap my arms and legs around him and whisper into his ear that he’s mine now.
I’m not usually possessive, but the thought of his mouth or dick being anywhere near any other woman makes me burn with heat.
Slowly, I lift my legs from the arms of the chair, then ease myself onto the floor, so I’m on my knees with Seb. I lean in to lick the moisture from his lips, making him groan. Between us, his cock jumps, pressing against my low belly.
“Do you want to fuck me now?” I whisper, starting to kiss my way from his mouth to his neck while my hand finds his shaft and starts to stroke it.
“So fucking bad,” he whispers back.
“Then you be good,” I say, “and let me ride you.”
When I look up at him, he’s got a worried expression on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m gonna cum way too fast if you ride me,” he says.
But that just makes me smile. I switch positions with him, then push him back so he’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the armchair. In the warm light cast by the lamp, his suntanned skin gleams with perspiration.
“That’s not allowed,” I say. “You told me you’d make me cum twice, remember?”
He tips his head back to the ceiling, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “Rem . . .”
I ease myself into his lap, my knees cushioned by the soft rug as I kneel over his hard cock. But before I can sink on, he grabs my hips, stopping me.
“I’ve got condoms in my room,” he says.
I shake my head. “I want to feel you raw.”
He’s got a stricken expression now. “Oh, fuck.”
Then I sink slowly onto him, and his fingers tighten around my hips.
He lets out a strangled sound, and I love how unhinged he already looks.
I want to be the only one who can make him feel like this.
I want him to think of me every time he’s hard, every time he wakes up alone.
I want to be the only woman he sees when his eyes are closed.
Flexing my muscles, I tighten my cunt around him, and he whispers, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Don’t you have anything else to say?” I ask, slowly gliding up and down his length. I wrap my hands around the back of his head, making him look at me as I ride.
“I . . .” He’s still grabbing my hips, and his hands tighten for a moment as he clenches his jaw, as if fighting back his need to cum. Then he relaxes, just a bit, and says, “I can’t think straight right now.”
My lips curve up. Slowly, I lean back, bracing one hand on Seb’s strong thigh and slipping the other between our bodies. He glances down, watching as I touch myself, my fingers working gently at my overstimulated clit.
“Fuck,” he whispers again.
I let my head fall back, my eyes closing.
I circle my clit with a practiced touch as I sink deep onto Seb’s cock, settling all my weight atop him.
He stretches me so fucking wide, and his tip hits that spot that makes my toes curl.
Once I’ve got him there, right where I want him, I start moving my hips forward and back, using him to massage that spot deep inside me.
And I feel another orgasm starting to build.
Before he made me cum twice, I wasn’t sure I could do it.
Cumming once with a partner was a feat when half the men I’ve fucked had no clue what they were doing—and weren’t willing to learn or ask what to do to make it better.
But he makes it look easy. And he never rushes me, never makes me feel like I need to perform sexual pleasure for him to make him feel good.
Suddenly, I find emotion rising inside my chest, realization spreading through my body like ink through water.
Seb never asks me to perform. All he wants is me—the real me. Remi. Not Mirage. And I’m addicted to it, to feeling seen and wanted for exactly who I am and not the persona I wear.
My fingers tighten on his thigh as I start to circle my clit faster. The orgasm is rising higher now, a storm surge rushing in, wanting to sweep me away.
“Rem,” Seb says, voice tight, fingers gripping me hard. But I don’t open my eyes. “Rem, I—”
I’m almost there. I start to ride him faster, my cunt soaking wet. It makes sucking sounds as I fuck him, combined with his barely restrained moans. Just a little more. Just a little faster. And—
I gasp, my muscles pulsing, my entire body heaving with a convulsion as my orgasm crashes through me. At the same time, Seb tries to lift me off his dick, but I refuse to budge, and I open my eyes, wanting to see the expression on his face as he unloads inside me.
And it’s a sight I’ll never forget. Jaw clenched, eyes squeezed tight, the muscles in his throat pulling so taut that his veins bulge from the sides of his neck.
Deep inside, I feel a burst of heat, and it makes me moan. I clench my muscles again, squeezing his dick, as if I can trap his cum inside me, hold every last drop.
Seb moans louder, hips lifting, and he drives his dick into me one last time as another explosion of heat paints my insides. Then he collapses back against the armchair, breathing hard, and his eyes slowly open.
The moment his gaze meets mine, his eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”
My body is exhausted, every muscle completely spent. I slowly lean forward, pressing my lips to Seb’s. As I pull away, I whisper, “It’s okay. I’m not ovulating.”
He looks confused. The expression on his face—like boyish uncertainty—makes me laugh.
“It means it’s unlikely I’ll get pregnant.”
“Oh.” He lets out a breath, and his body softens, some of the tension uncoiling from his muscles. Then he says, “You probably should’ve told me that before.”
I smile. “I like watching you squirm.”
His dimples appear. “You like scaring the shit out of me, huh?”
Nodding, I lean in and steal another kiss. Then I realize how wet and sticky we both are, and I say, “Can we shower now?”
Seb carries me through the house—even though I’m perfectly capable of walking—and when we get to the bathroom, he slides the lights on to a dim setting, so it’s not startlingly bright, then settles my bare feet onto the cool tile floor.
It’s a large bathroom, with double sinks, a huge clawfoot tub, and a walk-in stone shower with dual rain shower heads.
I wait while Seb gets the shower going, adjusting the temp.
Glancing into the mirror, I find my hair tangled, my lips swollen, and my eyes sleepy and content.
And even though this isn’t my condo—even though this isn’t even my state—I find myself feeling completely comfortable, perfectly at ease while Seb gets the water temp just right.
And it’s odd, but in a way that feels . . . good.
“It’s ready,” he says, calling my attention back to him, then stepping aside so I can walk into the shower first.
The hot water hits the stone floor and walls, sending up a mineral scent with the steam.
I step under one of the rain shower heads and sigh as the water washes the long day away.
Seb joins me in the shower, using his own shower head.
But halfway through washing my hair, I give him a smile and move over to stand with him.
“I was lonely over there,” I say, sliding my hands up his bare chest and then lifting onto my toes to press a kiss to his mouth. He kisses me back, his hands finding my waist, and smiles against my lips.
“Here,” he says after breaking our kiss, maneuvering me so my head is right under the water stream. Gently, he glides his fingers through my hair, and my eyes close as he works all the shampoo from my scalp.
He spoils me so much. Way more than I’d ever expect, or even ask for. Which reminds me of what he said when he told me about the extra rooms in his house, about how he’d spoil his children rotten.
“Seb,” I say softly, opening my eyes to stare at the steamy shower wall.
He’s still behind me, working conditioner into my hair now. “Yeah?”
A question has been resting at the back of my mind since the tour he gave me yesterday, and now feels like as good a time as ever to ask it.
“Do you want to have children?”
His hands go still for a moment, then resume their gentle movements a beat later.
“I think so. I mean, I’d be okay not having them too, but .
. . I’d like to be a dad.” It feels like he’s done with the conditioner now, and as I stand facing away from him, he grabs a bar of soap and starts working it in circles across my shoulders, then my low back.
After a minute has passed, he asks, “What about you?”
I don’t answer right away. It’s a question I’ve considered, but only distantly.
I’ve never been with a man who had any sort of long-term potential.
I’ve never even asked a partner about their desires for children before.
But Seb makes everything feel different.
He makes a life together feel possible. And that makes the question a more serious one.
Suddenly, I find mist gathering in my eyes, and I’m grateful for the water running over my head; it hides the tears that slip out to track down my cheeks. No man has ever made me cry this much, and certainly not for all the right reasons.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Not yet. I’ve got a lot I still want to do. But I’d like to be a mom.”
Seb makes a small sound behind me, a thoughtful hum. He moves to my side and starts washing my arm, from shoulder all the way to fingertips. “What do you still want to do?”
I turn his question over in my mind as he gently massages soap into the delicate part of my wrist, then between my fingers.
“I want to pay off Riley’s tuition, mostly.
Then I want to just . . . be, you know? No heavy burdens, just letting life take me where it wants to.
And after that, maybe then I’ll be ready for kids.
” I flick my gaze up to his and find him watching me intently, his brown eyes narrowed, gaze focused on my face.
“I’d want to be stable.” Then, with a small smile, I add, “I’d want to be able to spoil mine too, just like you. ”
This makes him smile. It’s a slow change in his expression, like the way the sun rises gently over the distant horizon. Then he’s pulling me in, kissing me, and my eyes close as the water rains down over both of us, our wet bodies pressed together.
Pulling away, he rests his forehead to mine and whispers, “I think you’d be a great mom, Rem. The best.”
I let out a small scoff. “Definitely not the best. But I think I could do a decent job.” My hands trail up his chest, and I thread my fingers around the back of his neck, holding him there with me. “But you’d be the world’s best dad for sure.”
He laughs. “My kids would have drum kits and surfboards and probably eat way too much pizza. They’d be the neighborhood terrors.” He puts the soap down, then returns his hands to my waist. “But we’d be happy, and I think that’s the most important thing.”
I look up at him through the shower steam and falling water, admire the way droplets catch on his dark lashes, and I think, I know that’s true, Seb. Because you make me happy.
Grateful once again that the water hides my tears, I wrap my arms around Seb’s neck and hug him tight. His arms loop around my waist, secure and strong, and I wish I could stay here forever and not just for the next few days.
Because more and more, Seb is feeling like someone I don’t just want in my life now.
He feels like someone I’ll want in it tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.
Like someone I’d actually give a key to.
If only we didn’t live a whole state apart.