No boxers. No fucking warning. Just all of him, hard and heavy and absolutely unapologetic. The sight alone makes heat tighten low in my stomach. There’s nothing gentle in the way he stands there—just raw masculinity, quiet control, and a challenge written in every line of him.
God help me, I want to touch him.
This is happening.
I’m not new to this, but nothing has ever felt likethis. It’s wild. Reckless. Like I’m standing on the edge of something dangerous and stepping into it anyway. My skin still sings from before, hypersensitive and humming with tension. He fists himself lazily, cock in hand, eyes locked on mine like he’s watching every thought as it hits me.
“Tell me,” he rasps. “Tell me how much you want this, Trouble. I need to hear it.”
This man. This devastatingly beautiful, infuriating man has me begging, and the worst part? I don’t even care. My chest tightens. “Please. I want…” I pause, swallowing. “Ineedmore.”
Sebastian’s eyes burn when he looks at me, and his mouth twitches. “You’re so fucking pretty when you beg for me, Liv.”
That name. The tone. The goddamn ownership in it. It ruins me. His fingers hook under my jaw, tilting my face up, and our mouths crash together—messy, uncoordinated, and filthy in the best way. I don’t know who started it.
“Up,” he mutters against my mouth, all heat and husk. “Turn around.”
Maybe it’s the bossy tone. Maybe it’s him. Either way, I move slowly, sliding off the bed. The moment my feet hit the floor, his hand finds mine, guiding me without a word, until we’re standing in front of the tall mirror leaning against the wall. It’s angled slightly beside his tallboy dresser.
I turn toward the glass, heart pounding, skin hot, and then he’s behind me. “I want you to watch.” His voice is rough against my ear. “Want you to see what you do to me.”
God help me. That voice alone nearly has me coming again. My thighs press together instinctively, chasing any kind of relief. But he’s already there, lacing his fingers with mine and pinning our joined hands to the dresser.
“Bash…” I whisper, breath caught in my throat.
His chest brushes my back, and I feel the heat of him everywhere. It’s overwhelming. Every nerve is alive. Every exhale is shaky. Then Sebastian stills. “Fuck,” he mutters. “No condom.”
A flush rises up my spine, not from embarrassment, but something else. Perhaps from the thought that he hasn’t needed one. Not recently, for that matter. And it shouldn’t matter, but it does.
“I’m on the pill,” I manage, the words catching in my throat.
Silence follows. A heavy, pulsing kind that hums between us like static. Then he moves, hands shifting, followed by the blunt, hot pressure of his cock nudging me exactly where I need it. Then his lips are at my ear, voice a dark whisper that curls through me.
“Hold on, sweetheart.”
It’s all I can do.
A gasp rips from my chest as he pushes into me in one deep, claiming stroke—so thick, so sure, that the breath punches right out of my lungs.Oh. God.
Every inch of him fills me completely. Every thrust stretches me wide, making me feel deliciously full. My knees wobble, hands bracing against the dresser as he leans in, chest against my back, one hand sliding down to find my clit. His rhythm is slow and deep at first. Each thrust is maddening. Precise. Skin meeting skin at a pace that forces these obscene little sounds from my throat that I don’t even recognise as mine.
I tip my head back, eyes fluttering shut, already spiralling.
“Eyes up, Trouble.” His voice cuts through the haze. One hand leaves my waist to grip my chin, angling it to the mirror. I see myself first—lips parted, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide. They move to him, and the look in his eyes is downright filthy. Possessive. So fucking hot, it makes my toes curl.
He doesn’t let up.
Doesn’t break pace.
Every thrust sends a fresh wave of heat through me. Every movement of his fingers on my clit tightens the coil low in my belly. I grip the edge of the dresser, like it might anchor me, but nothing can hold me now. I don’t want to be steady. I want to fall. Straight into this. Into him.
The mirror fogs from our heaving breaths, but I can still see him watching me.
“Come for me,” the words scrape out of him.I almost do
I hold off, nails biting into the wood, and rasp, “Only if you come with me.”
His next thrust is brutal. Perfect.
