I sink down onto him, my breath stalling as he fills me up again and I take a moment just to feel him. My hands rest on the hard muscles of his abdomen and when I look at his face, I find him already watching me. He’s enraptured, eyes burning, lips parted. I roll my hips, testing and smirk when his eyes roll back, the muscles in his neck pulling taut. I curl my fingers against his abs, scraping my nails across him that leave red lines on his skin.
His cock twitches inside me so I move a little faster, a little harder, finding a rhythm that feels good for me and I know feels good for him. His groans are like music, doing something to my insides with every deep moan that comes from him. My hips move in a way that grinds my clit against the course hair above his cock and sparks set off in my nerves, forcing me to chase the pleasure I can feel building in intensity with every grind.
His eyes flick back to me, and I know he’s holding himself back, giving me this control but he wants it so desperately. His fingers grip the sheets, scrunching the material into his fists, coming undone with every roll of my hips. I lift myself, his cock sliding out of me at a torturous pace before I let myself fall back onto it, a moan slipping through my lips.
“That’s it, Red,” His voice comes out like gravel, strained and tight, his head tipping back, “Keep fucking riding me like that.”
I clench around his cock, my muscles tightening as my orgasm crests. My thighs tense as I continue to ride, pushing myself right to the edge but when Sebastian suddenly sits up, wrapping his arms around me, his lips touching the base of my throat, I detonate against him with a cry. My nails sink into his skin and my moan is muffled where I bury my face into the side of his neck, but he holds me through it until his own orgasm takes him. His cock jerks inside of me as he empties himself, arms tightening a touch until he loosens them and then falls onto his back with a grin.
I remain straddled on him, catching my breath but hejust continues to smile up at me, this damn twinkle in his eyes.
“You’re so damn pretty, Wills,” He tells me, and I’m suddenly overcome with emotion. I feel it stinging my eyes, my nose.
Shit, am I about to cry!?
Why the fuck am I about to cry!?
His brows knot in concern before he’s helping me off him, bundling me up against his chest, “Hey what is it? Did I hurt you?” His panicked voice only sends me over the edge.
What the fuck!?
But I can’t stop it, the waterworks have been switched on and now I am sobbing against him.
“What is it?” He asks again, pushing me away a little to look at my face, his big hands coming up to cup my cheeks as his thumbs brush away the fat tears rolling down them.
“I don’t know,” I heave breathlessly, sucking in large gasps of air. His arms soften around me, and he begins to tenderly stroke my hair, holding me as I cry for no apparent reason. I feel sticky with him, can feel him seeping out of me and yet I still sit and fucking cry.
He holds me through the entire thing, until I can breathe easier, and the sobs quieten. He pushes me away from him once more, looking at my face and thetears that still silently roll down my cheeks.
“It’s okay,” He soothes, wiping them away.
“I need to shower again,” I humph, sniffling.
He gives me a small smile and then begins to move us off the bed, taking my hand to walk with me to the bathroom where he then turns on the shower and waits for it to warm. When it does, he guides me into it and follows me inside.
We stand silently beneath the spray, plumes of steam filling the space around us as the glass on the shower door fogs up. The water disguises the still falling tears but they’re coming slower now, and I feel like I can breathe.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“What for, Red?” He asks, reaching for my shower gel. He squirts some into his palm before he starts to move it over my skin, washing away the sweat.
“Crying.”
He chuckles lightly, “You don’t ever need to apologize for that.”
“You were still inside me when I started to sob,” I clip.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, “I read somewhere that your hormones will go crazy during pregnancy.”
I mean of course that makes sense, but it doesn’tmean I want to be crying while his dick is still twitching inside of me. And for no reason either is just not it.
He’s gentle as he washes me down, and my eyes fall closed as his fingers work into my scalp, tipping my head back. I’ve already showered once today but the way his fingers are working through my hair right now means I don’t give a shit. He massages shampoo into the thick strands of my hair before he washes it out and then lathers conditioner on, working it through my hair. Neither of us say anything to each other while he works and once he’s done, he helps me out of the shower, wrapping me in a warm towel.
I need a nap. I head through to the bedroom and get dressed. It’s late afternoon now, a whole day has passed since the scan this morning and I’ve done very little. I’m sitting in the middle of the bed when Bast returns from the shower, water clinging to his skin as it rolls over his muscles before it sucks into the towel he has wrapped around his hips.
It’s easy to forget how dangerous Bast really is when he looks so easy-going. He has this charm, this aura that makes you believe he’s not a man who has killed countless people. I watched this same man beat a man for touching me and yet the guy grinning at me from the doorway, his blond hair teased, and dripping water doesn’t look like a man even capable of doing that.
But I saw it, I saw the blood, the manic look in his eye, the anger that rolled off him so thick I could feel it pressing on my own skin.
