Chapter 9
NINE
After they’d both cleaned up, Lucy immediately climbed back on top of the tangled sheets. Sebastián, however, waited by the side of the bed, his thick brows drawn in concern.
Not that her gaze lingered on his brows. Not when such an impressive display of manhood stood before her, completely uncovered and hers to touch.
He wasn’t bulky. Instead, he was all sleek lines and lithe muscles.
Undeniably fit, with the strong thighs and thick biceps to prove it, but lean.
Not a man impressed with muscle size for its own sake.
And he had next to no body hair, except under his arms and around the exceptional package Mother Nature had seen fit to give him in recompense for delayed physical development.
Her new favorite feature on his body: the little dimple above each cheek of that taut, round ass.
Or maybe the arch of his back when she stroked his cock, or the lines carved across his forehead as he tried to hold back for her sake, or the tight buds of his nipples when he came. She couldn’t decide.
His body was just as beautiful as his soul. She’d be able to entertain herself an indefinite length of time by watching him, no matter how long he stood by the bedside and said nothing.
Still, he looked worried.
“Seb…” She sprawled on her stomach, resting her chin on her fists. “Is everything okay?”
He paused, the furrow between his brows smoothing. “Is everything okay for you?”
That wasn’t an answer. She shouldn’t have been surprised.
Since the moment they’d entered the bedroom, he’d seemed more hesitant than she’d expected. She’d have thought maybe he just didn’t have much experience, but considering the skills he’d displayed over the past few minutes, she didn’t give a lot of credence to that theory.
Maybe he was simply weirded out by the transition from platonic friends to lovers. Or regretting the decision to make that transition?
No. No, she wouldn’t question her instincts any longer. Sebastián wanted her. First-time sleepovers always tended toward the awkward. No need to read anything more into it.
“I’m so glad that happened.” She grinned at him. “I’d like it to happen again. Like, now.”
He didn’t respond by sharing his own joy in their newfound intimacy. At least, not verbally. But he moved at long last, leaping into bed and crawling toward her with a glint in his dark gaze she’d never seen before.
Draping himself over her back, he nudged her hair aside and whispered into her ear. “What do you want me to do?”
His resurgent erection prodded her ass, and she wriggled beneath him.
“I want you inside me. But first…” His arms had tunneled under her, and he was sweeping across her nipple with his thumb while his other hand slid between her legs. “Yeah. That.” She sighed, her eyes closing. “That feels amazing.”
He flipped her over, so she was spread across his bed on her back, and he could touch her more easily as he knelt between her legs. His hand lowered to her curls once more, spreading her open, his thumb circling her clit. When she let out a shaky breath, he slid two fingers inside her. Then three.
Those clever fingers were stretching her wide. Thrusting in and out of her sex, rubbing against the most sensitive spot inside, as she shifted and whimpered and splayed her legs wider.
She cupped her own breasts and pinched her nipples, reveling in the pleasure.
No one had ever elicited this kind of easy response from her before, not even the lovers she’d have called good in bed.
Something about Sebastián, the way he measured her reactions, the way she trusted him, tipped her over some invisible edge.
“Do you want my mouth too?”
Color high on his cheekbones, he was staring at his slick fingers on her, inside her. His lips had parted, and he was breathing hard. And that magnificent dick was stiff and wet at the tip and begging for attention.
“Do you want my mouth on you?” she countered.
He ignored her question. “Answer me.”
“Of course I do.” She levered herself up on her elbows. “But Seb, I’m—”
He began licking her then, his tongue soft and slow as it circled her clit, while his fingers still rubbed and rubbed inside her. At the sight of his dark head between her thighs, his tongue on her flesh, her elbows gave out beneath her.
He blew on her clit until she trembled. He licked, swirling around her folds until she couldn’t hold back a moan.
He sucked her clit between those soft lips and flicked it with that talented tongue until she fisted her hands in his silky hair and bucked against him, her sex clamping around his talented, plunging fingers as she cried out.
Then he rolled on the condom, hooked her legs over his arms, and pushed inside her still-pulsing body. Goddess above, the feel of him thick and deep inside her only made her sob harder and raise her hips for more.
His shoulders were bunched as he worked his cock in and out of her with agonizing slowness, his jaw clenched. Confused by his restraint, she stroked his arms as the last throbs of orgasm faded.
“It’s okay.” She lifted herself enough to kiss his damp, heaving chest. “You can let go.”
He gave his head one desperate shake. Did he want her to come again so soon?
So she touched herself, rubbing her oversensitive clit with light pressure as the slide of his cock inside her shifted from a culmination to an enticement. A tease.
But it wasn’t quite enough. “I need more to come.”
“Okay.” He paused, his pulse visibly beating at the side of his neck. “Harder? Faster?”
“Either.” She slid her finger over her clit, and felt the edge of pleasure rising within her again. “Maybe both.”
He dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath.
Then he slammed into her, digging her into the mattress, and she moaned.
At the end of the stroke, he circled his hips, grinding her fingers against her clit, and reared back to pound into her again.
And again, until she gave a strangled cry and came around his demanding cock.
At the first pulse of her body, he groaned, his face tightening as he pumped into her. He let go of her legs, wrapped his arms around her, and gave her his full weight while he shook. She clutched his sweaty back, her eyes closed as she absorbed his pleasure and her own.
The embrace only lasted a minute. Then he carefully pulled out of her and rolled away, disposing of the condom. To her shock, he didn’t immediately return to her side.
He glanced toward the master bathroom. “I need a shower.”
His face had turned neutral. But why? From whom—or what—was he hiding?
“Sounds good.” Dazed and fuzzy from her orgasms, she tried to smile. “Do you want to have one together?”
“Is that what you want?”
Something was wrong. Maybe he was just tired or hungry or unsure of her response, though, and a good night’s sleep, some food, and a little more affection would fix the problem.
She refused to allow anxiety to taint their first time together. Instead, she needed to trust her own instincts. She needed to believe that Sebastián wanted her in his life and bed as much as she wanted to be there.
At long last, she needed to offer him her heart, with faith he’d handle it with care.
But she couldn’t do so in words. Not tonight, when he seemed so overwhelmed. Tomorrow, maybe. In the morning, with the light of day illuminating their path forward.
“Sure. Let’s shower together.” She got out of bed. “No hanky-panky, though. Not this time. My legs are too shaky from the exploits of Mr. Orgasmo for slippery shenanigans.”
A small smile lightened his expression. “Mr. Orgasmo?”
“You earned the title.” She took his hand, tugging him toward the bathroom. “Enjoy it.”
“I’ll try,” he said.
Sebastián woke the next morning to a smack across his chest.
He squinted at Lucy through one cracked eyelid, confused.
“Sorry. I forgot you were here,” she whispered, her sweet face scrunched in apology.
His other eye opened. “So you hit me?”
“Inadvertently. I was half-asleep and forgot where I was, so I reached for my amethyst on the nightstand. Which wasn’t actually a nightstand, but your chest. Sorry again.” She tugged the sheet up over his shoulders. “Go back to sleep.”
Groggy from their late, energetic night, he closed his eyes. But the sigh of the mattress as she slid out of bed, as well as the rustle of clothing—was she getting dressed, or simply retrieving the worry stone from her skirt pocket?—banished his lingering drowsiness.
As did the memory of her naked beside him last night, so loving and so eager for every brush of his hands, his mouth, his cock. Exactly how he’d have envisioned her, if he’d let himself fantasize in any detail about sex with Lucy.
She was magic. The incarnation of warmth and pleasure, all flushed skin and smiles.
He’d let her guide their time in bed. Managed not to reveal more than his body. But even though he’d somehow kept himself under tight restraint the entire night, he’d still seen stars. He’d never experienced that sort of piercing joy before, and likely never would again.
The memory of making love with Lucy would become a spotlight, he already knew. A blindingly bright moment that would cast the rest of his existence into shadows.
Jesus, the power she held over him. No wonder he was so fucking scared.
When he tried to predict what would happen now, only one nausea-inducing answer came to mind. She’d want to talk about what they’d done and what it meant. She’d want to talk about their future.
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
Opening his eyes a bare millimeter, he watched her gather her stone and return to the bed. When she quietly climbed onto the mattress beside him and settled cross-legged against the headboard, then began taking long, steady breaths, one after the other, he relaxed.
Meditating. She was meditating, the amethyst held loosely in her grip.
He was safe, at least for the moment.