Chapter 23 Sebastian
Sebastian
“Why are you heading over there this early?” I asked Lydia with a scowl. I had plans for us this morning. Naked plans.
She shot me a quizzical look. “I have to get ready with the girls.”
“For four hours?” I complained. I could hear the whining in my voice and had to tell myself to get a grip.
“Yes, for four hours. Do you have any idea how long it takes to do six women’s hair and makeup? To get everyone in their dresses, including the bride?”
“Apparently, four hours,” I grumbled.
Her sassy, annoyed face pulled a smirk from me. She left her silvery hair down, cascading over her shoulders. The leggings that she wore hugged her ass perfectly, a flannel button-up that she’d found in my closet hanging loosely over her small frame.
She turned to the counter in the kitchen, gathering her things. She pulled me toward her with an invisible string. I covered her ass with my hands, pressing a path as they trailed toward her hips. Her soft moan was followed by her perky ass backing up against my already swelling cock.
“Let them get started without you,” I whispered.
“That’s not how this is supposed to work,” she said, her breathy voice not sounding very convincing. Her ass pushed into my dick again, and she clearly wasn’t making any effort to get away.
I kicked her legs apart and slipped my hand around her, snaking my way under the fabric of her leggings to her warm, wet center.
“Seb,” she warned, followed by a dirty hum.
“Lydia,” I mocked. I pushed one finger into her, then another. Her head tilted to the side, exposing more of her sweet, soft skin. Animal instinct took over, and I bit down on the side of her neck, thrusting my erection against the crack of her ass.
She turned her head, eyes wide with panic. “Don’t leave a mark,” she said quickly.
I looked her in the eye before kissing her gently on the lips. “No mark, little wild. I promise.”
“Just not today. Not when I have somewhere to be,” she said as if she felt she needed to explain herself to me. She didn’t, and I needed her to know that.
“Whatever you say goes, Lydia. You want me to bend you over this counter and fuck you right here in the kitchen, I will. You want to stop, just say the word. You want me to smack your ass so hard my hand leaves a tattoo on your pale, peachy cheeks, not a fucking problem.” I kept a punishing rhythm between her legs as I punctuated every point.
My dick strained against the zipper of my pants, but my own satisfaction was the last thing on my mind.
Her hands splayed out on the counter in front of her as she rocked herself into my hand.
I pressed the heel of my palm into her clit, adding to the sensation like I knew she wanted.
Her back arched, and I could feel her getting close.
With my free hand, I pulled her tight against my groin and held her in place.
The noises she made were a cross between torture and pleasure and fucking intoxicating.
Being the man who got to witness her looking like this was my own personal brand of ecstasy.
My need for her drove me on—her satisfaction, the taste of her skin on my lips, the sound of her coming apart for me.
I kissed the column of her throat, up the side of her neck, and pulled her lobe into my mouth, adding just the smallest bite.
She turned her head to me and smashed her lips into mine just in time for me to capture her moan as she drenched my fingers in her arousal.
I slowed my pace, not stopping until she went nearly boneless in my arms.
I smirked against her lips.
“Hm, someone’s feeling proud of themselves,” she sassed, languidly turning in my arms to face me.
I licked her wetness off my fingers, my gaze never leaving hers. “Fuck yeah, I am.”
Lydia stroked my raging erection from outside my jeans.
My dick twitched at the feel of her pressure.
Her fingers deftly undid the button, lowering the zipper to get her hand around my thickened shaft.
Heat and desire exploded through me instantly.
I cupped the back of her head, bringing her lips to mine for a slow, dirty kiss.
She pushed my pants down enough to fully free my cock and dropped to her knees.
“What are you doing? I thought you had to go get ready with the ladies?”
I had no idea why I asked that. It just came out. It wasn’t like I wanted her to stop, so reminding her she had somewhere to be was pretty fucking stupid. But I didn’t expect any reciprocal satisfaction. That wasn’t why I brought her to orgasm in my kitchen.
She looked up at me from lowered lashes, her cheeks still rosy from her climax, her green eyes laced with the same heat I felt pumping in my veins. “They can get started without me.”
She circled the head of my dick with her tongue, and I stilled.
I pushed my hand into her hair, not adding pressure, just for something to hold on to.
She kissed a trail down the length of me, licking a path back up with the flat of her tongue.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was so fucking pretty on her knees for me.
“Look at me,” I groaned. Her gaze snapped up to me, her eyes dark with lust. “Good girl, Lydia. Now, open your pretty little mouth.”
She followed my instructions obediently, and it sent a rush of adrenaline through me. My cock disappeared into her warm, wet mouth.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “You feel so damn good.”
She alternated between shallow bobs, taking just my head into her mouth, and deep-throating my cock to the back of her throat. I gripped the back of her head, not wanting to dictate the pace she set but needing something to anchor me to reality.
The effects of her traveled down to my toes. Pressure built within me as my muscles pulled taut with my impending release.
“I’m going to come,” I warned her, tugging on her hair lightly to pull her back. She didn’t budge and instead increased the suction on my dick, vacuuming her cheeks even more.
I fought it off as long as I could, trying to make this last, but I couldn’t hold back any longer.
My orgasm ripped through me in a powerful surge, coating her tongue and throat with my release.
Lydia took every drop, pulling off me to wipe the corner of her mouth, licking the excess cum from her finger.
I pulled her to her feet, capturing her lips with mine. “You are incredible,” I mumbled against her mouth as I tucked myself back into my jeans.
“I know,” she smirked.
She turned back to the counter and finished gathering her things from earlier, piling them into her arms like a pack mule.
“Do you want help carrying things to your car?”
“I’ve got it. Thanks though.” She leaned in for one more kiss, which I was more than happy to give. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Yup.”
She walked toward the door, turning back to me with a dirty look in her eyes. “Clean this kitchen, would you? We still need to eat in here,” she cheeked.
I shook my head as the door closed behind her. All sass and attitude, until she was on her knees for me. This woman was a walking contradiction, and I loved every minute of it.
* * *
A few hours and one cleaned kitchen later, I made my way to the wedding venue, where us guys were getting together.
Wyatt, Reid, Wes, and Charlie were already there when I walked in, along with Maeve’s brother, Jackson.
Black suits, neat hair, and wide smiles greeted me, a glass of whiskey thrust into my hand before the door closed behind me.
“Hey, man. Congrats on the big day.” I clapped Wyatt on the shoulder, bringing him in for a one-armed hug.
“Thanks, brother. Should have done it a year ago, but with Veda on the way, Maeve wanted to wait.”
I hid my bristle at the “brother” comment. That was just how we talked. And these guys were like brothers to me, even if Luke still hadn’t talked to me for the past two weeks. But I wasn’t sure how the rest of the Wilders were going to feel about their “brother” dating their sister.
I was just about to say something about it, try to gauge if Luke had said anything to them, when the man himself walked in.
“Hey, guys. You’re looking good, Wy. You excited?” He clamped a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder, jostling him a bit. Wyatt didn’t care. He beamed a shit-eating grin at his brother.
“Fuck yeah, I am. I was just telling Seb, I should have done this ages ago. I’m just happy to finally make her my wife.”
Luke shot his gaze over to me, quickly looking back at the rest of the group.
“How’s Scarlett feeling?” Charlie asked. “Any better?”
I looked at Luke. Was Scarlett not feeling well? This close to the end of her pregnancy? Was that something to be concerned about, or was it just part of the whole growing-a-human-inside-of-your-body thing?
My chest constricted. I hated that I didn’t know what was going on. That he hadn’t answered my calls since the day he stormed out of my shop.
“Yeah. She’s good. Doctor said there was nothing to be worried about,” he told his father. “I can’t believe I’m going to have a son in a couple of weeks,” he laughed.
Charlie’s smile took up his entire face.
“That is one lucky little boy. You’re going to be a great dad, Luke.
” He looked around the room at all of us.
“You know, you boys all put me through hell for a long while. But look at you now. Getting married to an amazing woman, two beautiful little girls,” he said to Wyatt.
“Finding your way to Scarlett after what you went through with Juliet, a baby on the way,” he added to Luke.
Turning to Reid, he continued. “Letting yourself love again and managing to snag Claire in the process,” he laughed.
“You boys have turned out okay, I think. Your mother would be so proud to see you now.” Mist clouded his eyes, and he certainly wasn’t the only one.
“Now we just need to see Lydia settle down,” he chuckled.
The air in the room charged. It was the perfect opening for me to say something. But I froze. The moment passed, and before I could figure out how I wanted to broach the subject of me dating their daughter/sister, Wes piped up.
“A toast to the groom. May you keep your head of your ass and always remember that you’re punching above your weight with Maeve. Don’t fuck it up again.”
He raised his glass of whiskey, the rest of us following in a round of cheers.
Jackson threw his drink back, his cheeks red as he fidgeted with his suit jacket.
“I just want to say, boss, thanks for sticking around. Mae’s really lucky to have you.
I’m glad we’re going to be, like, officially family.
” His face was bright red now, and he looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock.
At twenty-one, he was the youngest one of the bunch, and from what I knew, he didn’t grow up with any sort of male role model in his life, until Wyatt.
Wyatt grinned. “Kid, we’ve been a family since the day Jane showed up in our lives. Nothing has changed except now I can call Maeve my wife. And trust me, I am well aware that I’m the lucky one.”
A knock sounded at the door. The photographer wanted to spend some time with the guys before the ceremony. Everyone was relaxed, the jovial spirit of the day permeating the air around us.
As long as Luke and I didn’t make eye contact.
Two weeks, and he still wouldn’t even look at me.
I knew he was pissed. He didn’t want his sister to end up with a struggling tattoo artist with a history like mine.
I got it. Like Wyatt, I was well aware that Lydia was too damn good for me.
But if she was willing to look past my endless string of one-night stands and casual flings, my financial troubles at the shop, my poor decisions when I was younger than Jackson was now, then what business was it of his to interject?
Thirty minutes later, a woman came to tell us that it was go time.
Wyatt was going to wait for Maeve at the altar with his best man.
After all the sibling arguing, Wyatt had selected Wes to stand beside him on the big day.
Luke and Scarlett would go down the aisle first, followed by Reid and Claire, and lastly Lydia and me.
Maeve, having not had a father growing up, asked Jackson if he would give her away.
The kid almost cried on the spot. How he didn’t was beyond me—I was pretty sure the rest of us all had tears in our eyes when she asked him.
The men all got in our positions to wait for our partners.
Laughter and giggles spilled into the foyer as soon as the door to the women’s room opened.
Standing in the doorway was the most beautiful goddess I had ever seen.
Lydia’s sage-green dress hit the floor. A long slit snaked up her leg, all the way to her upper thigh.
The fabric fell around her like water. My gaze traveled higher up her torso to where the dress hugged her tits in a deep-V neckline.
A long pendant necklace fell between her breasts, drawing my attention.
But her face. Holy fuck. My heart stopped beating for a solid three seconds, my throat thick with emotion as she smiled a sultry smile, making her way over to me.
“You look gorgeous,” I whispered in her ear, a low growl in my voice.
“So do you. I think a suit might be my new favorite look.”
“I think this dress is my new favorite look,” I countered.
“If you think it looks good now, you should see it on your floor,” she smirked, wrapping her hand in the crook of my arm as we got in line for the procession.
That sounded damn good to me.
The cue music started, and as I guided Lydia down the aisle to the altar, images of her walking down this aisle with Charlie, making her way to me, floated around my head.
I could see it. Us tying the knot. Being able to call her my wife.
Vowing to love her until death do us part and meaning every word of it.
I chanced a glance at her now.
Yeah, I could make those vows today, and I would mean every word of it. Lydia Wilder held my heart in a vise grip, and I was pretty sure she had since she was eighteen years old.
We got to the altar and had to separate to our specific sides. She trailed her fingers down my arm before we parted, and it took everything in me not to kiss her right here in the middle of Wyatt and Maeve’s ceremony.
The only good thing about us having to part from each other was that now I could look at her, and damn did I like what I saw.