He groaned. Dropped to his knees. Looked up at me as he took my waist. “Here’s anothershould—I should not have called you anything as simple asbeautiful. It’s too mild a word. You’re the stuff ofdreams.”
“I’m not,” I said softly. “I’m real.” I should’ve been self-conscious baring myself to Sebastian—after all, he’d spent the last several weeks scrutinizing my weaknesses and flaws, as I’d done to him. He’d been with many women, andbeautifuldidn’t describe them, either. Sebastian’s own magazine used words likemodelesque,lithe,angelic, and evengazelles of the human race. But I only saw truth and admiration in his upturned eyes, and I couldn’t help but doubt my own fears over his compliments. “Youare beautiful,” Isaid.
“Andyouare pure torture. Show me, Georgina,” he pleaded. “Your bra barely holds them in, they’re so fuckingperfect.”
As I undid the hook, he reached up and took the bra. Wetting his lips, he thumbed my nipples until they pressed, hard and resolute, into the pads of his fingers. “So pink. So full. And god, are youinviting.”
I missed the heat of his lips on mine, but I was soothed by a new kind of warmth—his mouth on my right breast, and then my left, teasing each nipple to make it rock hard, sucking until the sensation had brought me to the tips of mytoes.
He kissed his way down my stomach and tugged the elastic band of my lacy boyshorts. “Did you wear these forme?”
“Mmm.” I was glad I’d gone for sexy over silly underwear. “Yes.”
“Please tell me these have something written across the butttoo.”
“Sorry. All you’ll find back there are two buns in need of ahotdog.”
I’d meant to make him laugh, but instead his jaw set. He pushed his hands under the waistband and around to my backside, taking two handfuls. “Don’t tease me likethat.”
“I have some cinnamon in my pantry if you want to sprinkle it onthem.”
“Christ.” He dropped his forehead to my stomach, undeterred by my silent laughter. “Christ.”
I worked my hands through his hair to tousle it. Now that my restraint had broken, now that I no longer had to deny myself, I wanted to touch all of him. “Sebastian.”
“Am I going tooslow?”
“No.”
He yanked down my underwear and I gasped. Shackled by my ankles, I was bared to his eyes, prisoner to his touch. “Too fast?” heasked.
Lazily, with my bottom lip clamped between my teeth, I shook my head. “It’s justright.”
“Okay, Goldilocks.” He pressed a soft kiss on my lower tummy and said with a warm exhale, “Then I’ll blow, blow your housedown.”
I shivered. “You’re mixing childhoodfables.”
“Not to mention defiling them,” he said. There was nothing innocent about the way he tossed my panties aside to free my ankles. Or how he spread my thighs to nuzzle between my legs. Breathed me in. Placed gentle kisses over my mound. “This little pussy went tomarket.”
I gripped his head and said, “Enough, enough.Please.”
“I’ve never heard anything sweeter than that word from you in thismoment.”
“Please,” I repeated and used his own words against him. “Don’t depriveme.”
As if that flipped a switch in him, he put his mouth on me, tongue lapping at my wetness, teeth grazing my swollen lips. My hips bucked, and he put a long finger inside me, slid it out, and added another. I clutched the doorknob to keep from falling to my knees. He parted my lips wider with a thumb and laved my clit, eliciting my audible gasp. Was he smiling? I thought I felt his delight against me. I didn’t have long to wonder. Sebastian pushed my hips back against the door and fingered me harder, his rhythm unbreaking, his tongue alternately hard and soft onme.
Did he . . . intend to make me . . . come . . . likethis? “I don’t,” I said breathlessly, my hands still in his hair. “Ican’t.”
He pulled his mouth away. “Youcan’t?”
I shook my head up at the ceiling. “I never have, not like this. Ineed. . .”
“What do you need,Georgina?”
It was an embarrassing request to make. I wished it was as simple as saying I needed to be kissed or fucked or spanked to orgasm, but what would truly tip me over the edge was harder to ask for—intimacy. “More,” was all Isaid.
Sebastian took my hand from his hair to lace our fingers together. “Then I’ll need you to look atme.”
