Chapter 15
SAbrINA
Left alone, I wrapped my arms around my knees and curled into a ball on the tile floor.
As the hot water continued to rain down on me, I tried to come to terms with what had just happened.
How was it possible to feel both alive and yet dead inside?
That had been the most bone-jarringly intense sexual experience of my entire life.
The man fucked with what could only be called primal energy. The way he just arrogantly manhandled and dominated me into submission was…
I didn’t know what it was…but I’d definitely never been treated like that before. He had managed to both worship me and humiliate me all at once.
I’d been shattered into a million pieces, put together, and then shattered again.
I tightened my arms around my knees as I tilted my head back to let the water stream over my face.
He was inside of me right now.
Admittedly, the sum total of my sexual experience until this point had been extremely limited by most standards. Only a good-natured but inept high school boyfriend and a rather selfish college one. Neither of whom had ever come inside of me. I’d always been careful about condoms.
Oh God, we didn’t use a condom.
I stretched my legs out and ran a hand over my belly.
Bearing Sebastian Diamanti’s child would be like getting knocked up by freaking Zeus. Those Greek myths never seemed to end well for the poor mortal woman.
I had to leave before this man consumed me entirely.
I knew my limitations. I wasn’t one of those savvy women who could turn this connection into a career-launching opportunity. I needed to remember—I was Michael Corleone’s dead first wife. Not all women were the heroines of their own epic stories.
God, I hated being this way. I hated the truth of it.
I rested my chin on my knees. There was no denying it was my mother’s influence. Always telling me to blend in, to not make waves, to trust no one.
Everyone had their own childhood trauma. Mine was a mother who raised me to fear the world.
While others were taught to reach for the moon and stars…I was taught to be content with the rocks at my feet. My first step toward freedom was supposed to be defying my mother and coming to Europe.
Instead, I was falling deeper into someone else’s control. Sebastian Diamanti would take me from baby steps to straight off a cliff.
There was no point in hiding in the bathroom all morning. It was silly to assume he harbored some fascination bordering on obsession for me. I wasn’t that interesting of a person to inspire such fixed devotion.
After brushing the water from my eyes, I rose and turned off the shower.
And that was when I realized he had taken what little clothes I still had when he left.
* * *
I stepped onto the suite balcony, hugging the lapels of the plush, Shangri-La white terrycloth robe against my throat.
It was the most magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower I’d ever seen. The sun was just rising, throwing the structure into silhouette against a bright winter morning sky filled with muted blues and blood-orange reds. The hotel room was far enough and high enough to showcase a view of all of Paris.
I couldn't believe, after all that had just happened, that it was still barely morning.
“Hello, beautiful.”
I turned.
Sebastian sat in a black wicker bucket chair behind an elegant table. Like me, he wore one of the hotel robes. He folded the Italian newspaper he was reading and rose.
My heart skipped a beat as he neared.
Even in a robe, bare feet, and with wet hair, he still radiated power.
He tilted my head up. “Say my name.”
“What? Why?”
His lips lifted into a smile. “Because I find I like the sound of my name on your lips. I want to hear it again.”
I couldn’t imagine why. He was the one with the sexy Italian accent, with all the rolling “r’s” and floating vowels. Although not as harsh as the average New Yorker, my accent bore its mark with all the short nasal vowels.
With a lick of my lips, I uttered, “Sebastian.”
After last night, it felt dangerous to say his name.
And worse that I liked it.
He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. “Say it again.”
His tongue swept over my lips as if wanting to taste the word, and I obeyed.
“Sebastian.”
The contact sent a shiver of awareness up my spine. With my palms pressed against his chest, I could feel the steady vibration of his heartbeat.
He ran the back of his hand down the exposed skin of my throat just above the robe collar. “Brava ragazza.”
My thighs clenched.
There it was again. A physical response to him calling me his good girl.
Despite my conviction to run as far as possible in the opposite direction, if he ordered me to my knees—again—I’d do it. Again.
I stepped back, breaking his grasp. “I didn’t mean to disturb your breakfast. I was just looking for my clothes?”
My cheeks heated at having to ask him.
He placed a hand on my lower back and ushered me toward the table. “Come. I’ve ordered breakfast.”
I shook my head and moved away from his distracting touch. “I can’t. I really need to go. I have to get to work.”
The silence between us stretched.
It was obvious what I’d just said angered him, but I couldn’t imagine why.
Was he going to touch me again?
Did I want him to?
He stepped forward.
Instinctively, I shifted backward, suddenly afraid of his stiff demeanor. My back bumped against the iron balcony railing.
He leaned his hands on either side of me, trapping me in with his body. “It wasn’t a request, mia piccola.”
I wasn’t sure if I flinched because I feared him or feared how badly I wanted him.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered.
He leaned in close. “It’s just breakfast, sweetheart.”
I swallowed as I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle. “I’m not the woman you think I am.”
His breath tickled the curls near my ear. “I know exactly who you are, Sabrina.”
I inhaled sharply. “You don’t understand. This isn’t like me. I rarely drink that much, and I don’t have one-night stands. Ever. I’m sure there are women who would kill to be in my position right now, but I’m…I’m not sophisticated enough to handle this…” I gestured between us. “Whatever this is.”
The confession made my skin prickle.
God, had I really just said all that out loud?
I lowered my gaze, hoping he would just step aside and let me run and hide back in the bedroom.
His hand tipped my chin up as he searched my face. “This…is breakfast. For now.”
I sighed. “You’re really not going to give me my clothes back, are you?”
He slowly shook his head.
I bit my lip and briefly considered stealing a suit shirt and a pair of pants from his closet.
When I recognized the plan’s flaws, my shoulders slumped. “Will you at least tell me where my clothes and purse are?”
His lips curled into a smile. “The staff took your clothes to be washed and pressed. Your purse is in my safe.”
He'd locked away the last piece of me that was mine.
A bolt of panic lanced through my chest.
“Maybe just some coffee, but then I really need to get to work.”
Even though édouard’s show was over, that didn’t mean my job was done. There were still numerous additional photo shoots to style and organize. Plus, I was hoping if he liked the photos enough, he’d hire me to stay on and style the website collection.
Sebastian stepped back, allowing me to move past him to the table.
While I sat, he picked up a house phone near the table. “Send the food.”
Fresh-squeezed orange juice, small pastries, and a silver carafe of coffee already sat on the table. Sebastian lifted my cup and poured the coffee.
It was odd to see his strong fingers holding such a delicate object. I expected it to shatter at any moment, destroying the fine white linen with splashes of coffee and broken shards of porcelain.
A brief vision of those same hands caressing my breasts flashed across my mind. I blinked, shifting in my chair, which made me wince.
The movement caught Sebastian’s eye. His brow furrowed.
My spine stiffened as I tried to keep absolutely still, not wanting to draw attention to my sore pussy.
Without a word, he placed the coffee cup on the table and shifted to face me. His hand encircling my chair’s arm, he forcefully moved it beside his own.
“What are you—”
He lifted me out of the chair and onto his lap.
I pushed at his chest for balance, but also to create distance he ignored.
I scrambled to close my robe, which had opened to the belt, exposing my legs.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sore?”
My mouth dropped open as I dug my fingers into the robe’s terry cloth. “Because it’s none of your business.”
Did he really expect me to announce that he’d left me too sore to walk?
His arm brushed my breasts as he reached for his water glass. He dipped his fingers inside and fished out an ice cube. With his eyes fixed on me, he put it in his mouth.
I floated above the moment, not entirely inside my body.
Watching him watching me.
I watched while his lips shifted as he sucked on the cube.
Then he took the partially melted ice cube out of his mouth and lowered his hand. “Open your legs.”
My eyes widened as I slammed my knees together. “Why?”
Undeterred, he raised his right leg, which shifted me backward on his lap, throwing me off balance for a moment. He then forced his hand between my legs.
The ice cube trailed against my skin. “I don’t want that—”
He pushed the ice cube inside of me.
I gasped, reaching down to remove it.
His strong fingers curled around my wrist. “Don’t even think about it.”
The shock of the ice in such an intimate place made my abdominal muscles clench with pain. “Please. It hurts.”
I kicked out as the stinging intensified, but he ignored me and reached for another ice cube.
Before I could get off his lap, he wrapped his free arm around my waist, anchoring me to him.
My eyes teared. “Please. I don’t want any more.”
The ice cube rattled against his teeth before he pulled it out of his mouth and forced his hand between my legs again. “It’s for your own good. The pain will be worth the pleasure when the soreness abates.”
The double entendre of his words was not lost on either of us as he gave me a seductive wink.
Against my will, he pushed a second ice cube deep inside of me.
He then reached for a third.
“Please, no more,” I whimpered as I smashed my knees together.
My stomach was cramping terribly by now.
He ran the ice cube between my thighs. “Don’t make me ask you to open your legs again.”
With a sniff, I spread my knees slightly.
Again, he swept the ice cube over my pussy before slipping it inside of me. This time, he cupped his palm against my skin. Despite the chill, it was oddly soothing.
Sebastian reached his arm out and, with a swift and deliberate motion, swept the china and glassware from the table. The plates, cups, and glasses crashed in a chaotic symphony as they collided with the tiled balcony floor.
I jumped at the noise.
The sharp sound echoed through the morning air, shards of porcelain glinting like tiny daggers in the rising sunlight. For a moment, the destruction felt surreal, a jarring contrast to the tranquil beauty of Paris spread out below us.
With his hands around my waist, he lifted and laid me across the table, like a sacrifice.
Placing his hands on my knees, he pried my legs open. “I’d hate to think I’d broken my favorite toy so soon after playing with her.”
His toy.
The word scraped against my skin. Was that all I was now?
I couldn’t escape the feeling of being nothing more than a possession to him.
Again, the shadows of last night taunted me.
He had said something. Something important that alarmed me.
What had it been?
I tried to rise, determined to leave.
The first warm sweep of his tongue stopped me.
“Oh God!”
He stared at me over the length of my body before giving me another wink. “I need to kiss your pretty pussy and make it all better.”
All cohesive thought flew from my mind at his first touch.
With my head thrown back, I blinked up at the sky. Bright orange and shimmering yellows set it ablaze as the sun rose higher, warming my exposed skin while Sebastian warmed me from the inside out. All thoughts of soreness faded as my thighs clenched around his shoulders.
I shouldn’t want this. So why was I begging for it?
The stark contrast between the ice and the heat of his body sent my senses into overdrive. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. The cold of the ice made me ache for the warmth of his tongue. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from begging.
My hips bucked as a burst of color that rivaled the sunrise exploded behind my eyelids when I came.
He rose and leaned over me. Slightly breathless, he ran the side of his hand along his bottom lip and smiled. “Still sore?”
My body calmed, but my mind panicked.
I shook my head, unable to speak as I shifted to rise.
Had Sebastian Diamanti really just licked my pussy on an exposed balcony in the middle of Paris?
Just then, a tray rattled, and someone called out.
With a cry, I grasped the edges of my robe to close the front as I made to hop off the table.
Sebastian swept me into his arms first. “There’s broken glass.”
Despite his own bare feet, he walked me a few steps away from the table before setting me down.
Three staff members entered.
Without saying a word, two of them turned and immediately returned with a broom to sweep up the glass.
I buried my head in Sebastian’s shoulder as embarrassment made me seriously consider just jumping off the balcony.
After a few minutes, all traces of what we’d just done were gone.
The table was neatly reset, with several silver cloches covering many dishes. The staff bowed and, without a word, left.
I cast a longing glance at the door leading to the bedroom. “Do you think they brought my clothes back?”
“No. Now sit.”
I wrung my hands, desperate to escape. I’d definitely reached my emotional limit. My nerves stretched so thin they would surely snap.
“Can I at least check?”
He pulled out my chair. “Sabrina, they are not bringing your clothes back. Now do as you’re told. Breakfast is getting cold.”
I marched to stand next to him, clenching my fists at my sides. “What do you mean, they’re not bringing them back?”