"You know you've earned it. You know you deserve it. Stop fighting, sweetheart. Give it to me."
I didn't want to fall over that edge. I really didn't. But those words worked on me too well. They hit right where I needed them.
"That's a good girl," he drawled, an arm drawn tight around me as I shook and cried. "That's my good girl. There you are." He released his hold on my clit and that sudden rush of blood set off another wave inside me, one that hurt in a confusingly nice way. "Is that how you're playing tonight? You're giving me the demon pussy magic right now?"
"I'm not doing anything to you," I said, my words as loose and shuddering as the spasms between my legs.
He touched his forehead to mine, moaned out a breath. His hips punched up and his eyelids drifted shut, and he pressed a roar into my shoulder. He jerked against me, his fingers flexing and digging into my skin as the orgasm moved through him. "You sucked the soul out of me, sweetheart. I hope you put it to good use."
"I will." The smile that stretched across my face wouldn't quit. It was the brightest, most thoroughly pleased I'd felt in forever. I did this. I gave him that pleasure, that joy. It came from me and the things we found when we came together, and I could probably do it again. There was something pure and perfect about getting out of my mind and using my body to tear someone to shreds.
Sebastian was good at that—getting me out of my mind. Better than I wanted to admit. He teased and tortured and chased every last inhibition out of me with barely more than a sharply bent eyebrow. For the first time in fuck if I knew, I felt free in my body. I felt as though I could ask him for anything and not only would he give it, he'd devour me because he wanted it too. He lost himself in my body like I was a treasure rather than a messy perfectionist with a savage heart and an irritable gut.
Like I was someone worth keeping.
Chapter25
Sara
Sebastian Stremmel wasone hell of a cuddler. He was straight up snuggly, his body tucked tight around mine. His scruffy chin rasped against my shoulder, his breath warm on my skin. He was thick and rigid where he pressed into my backside, and his hand rested low on my belly.
It was a whole lot of wonderful to wake up this way except I didn't enjoy anyone touching me there. I loved that my body did its damnedest to carry me through this life and keep me going, though I didn't know how to love the soft and the squish of that spot. Especially when someone else touched it. I didn't mind him seeing it and knowing it existed, but touching lived in a different class of awareness.
"Whatever you are thinking about, stop," Sebastian grumbled.
I moved his hand to my thigh. I hadn't made peace there either, but my legs were very strong and I admired that. It was like that strength had earned me the right to accept my legs, and I knew that was kind of fucked-up, but I also knew that perfection wasn't the goal of a safe relationship with my body. I could hold difficult, complex, even uncomfortable feelings. I could move his hand from one spot while still wanting it everywhere else. I could be messy. I could do all of that and love myself at the same time.
"How do you know I'm thinking about something?"
"I could bounce quarters off the tension in your shoulders. What was a cozy pillow a few minutes ago is now a hard bag of bones."
He shifted his hand back to my belly. I batted it away.
"What?" he snapped. "You're warm and your vagina is made out of devastating magic. Let me hold you."
"You can hold me, just not there."
"But I'm obsessed with that spot," he argued.
"But I can't be comfortable when you're grabbing my fat."
"No, Sara.No.We're not doing that. I fucking mean it. Soft bellies are the sexiest thing in the world."
"Please don't. It's nice and well-intentioned, but—"
"Nothing about me is well-intentioned. Or nice for that matter," he said as he shifted my hair off my shoulder. "I'm telling you I find this overwhelmingly, distractingly sexy. These thick thighs too. I'm saying this is beautiful to me. I fucking love it."
"But—whydo you love it?"
He rolled me to my back, scowled down at me like I'd really offended him. "Why do I need a reason? Why can't I just love it?"
"Because no one loves a belly roll," I said. "Anyone who says they do is lying."
"I'm not lying," he grumbled. "If I didn't think you'd throttle me, I'd put my head in your lap every time we're on the couch in Milana's office."
"What the hell are you talking about? You won't even sit next to me!"
"Because I want to put my head in your lap, you screechy little owl. Seriously, woman. You're killing me here. Just once it would be nice if you'd listen to what I actually say to you."
