“Sebastian,” she whispers my name—just once. It is sharp, breathless, and laced with a beautiful, holy rage.
I pull my mouth away from her throat, the sudden absence of her skin leaving me cold. I sink to my knees before her, my movements frantic and fueled by a hunger that has fasted for far too long. The white, frothing silk of her gown is an obstacle, a lie I need to dismantle. I push the heavy layers of fabric up, bunching them around her waist until I find her long, slim legs.
I hook my fingers into the lace of her stockings, dragging them down with a roughness that mirrors the storm in my chest. Then, I trail my mouth upward. My tongue marks a path of fire against the porcelain curve of her thigh, and she arches into me, her fingers clenching in my hair, calling my name again like a prayer and a curse.
I continue my ascent, kissing my way toward the center of her thighs. She’s wet, aching, waiting for me, the scent of her arousal drowning out the expensive perfume and the sterile air of the room. My lips find her sensitive clit, and I suck, my tongue insistent and possessive.
She screams.
The sound is raw, echoing against the high ceilings, shattering the last remnants of her marble composure. She isn’t the ice queen anymore; she’s a live wire, sparking and desperate under my touch.
I don’t stop. I want to drink the sound of her undoing. I want to erase the memory of the man who left her five yearsago. I want her to know that even if she walks down the path of revenge, she carries the mark of my mouth and the ghost of this moment with her.
Her fingers dig into my scalp, her hips bucking against me in a rhythmic, frantic demand. She is coming apart, and I am the one breaking her.
Her fingers clench in my hair, pulling me closer even as she tries to escape the sheer intensity of it. I wrap my hands around the backs of her thighs, pinning her to the edge of the dresser, forcing her to take every bit of the pleasure I’m carving out of her.
“Sebastian—”
Her voice breaks, a high, thin silver thread of sound. She isn’t calling for help; she’s calling me to witness her ruin.
I increase the pressure, my teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp, my breath hot and damp against her.
She begins to tremble—a fine, violent shivering that starts in her core and radiates through her limbs. Her breath hitches, catching in a throat tight with the effort not to scream again. I don’t give her the mercy of a pause. I lick her harder, suck faster, my mouth a possessive brand that demands everything she is.
Then, she shatters.
It’s a violent, beautiful collapse. Her body jerks, her back arching off the wood as the climax tears through her. She cries out my name—not as a whisper this time, but as a jagged, desperate sob. Her internal muscles pulse against me in a rhythmic, helpless greeting, and I stay right there, drinking in the tremors of her release until her legs go weak and she slumps forward, her forehead resting against my shoulder, her breath coming in ragged, broken hitches.
The room is silent again, save for the sound of our shared wreckage. I remain on my knees for a heartbeat longer, savoring the tremors still racking her body, before I press one last,lingering kiss against her pussy, and another to the damp skin of her thigh.
I rise to my feet, looming over her. The air between us is thick, charged with the scent of sex and fury. Her chest heaves, her eyes wide and dark with the shock of her own undoing. She parts her lips, her throat working as she attempts to find the words to reclaim her dignity, but I don’t give her the chance.
I cup her face between my hands, my thumbs sweeping over her cheekbones, and I bridge the gap.
I kiss her again.
This isn’t the explosion from before. It’s slower, deeper, an unbearably intimate invasion that feels more like a confession than a conquest. I taste the sting of her anger and the heat of her surrender. Her lips tremble against mine, her hands fluttering up to rest against my wrists, not to push me away, but to anchor herself as I claim the very air in her lungs.
We don’t speak. There are no excuses left to make, no lies sturdy enough to hold up under the weight of this wreckage. We don’t negotiate terms or pretend this is anything less than a terminal combustion.
She pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, her marble mask shattered beyond repair. With slow, deliberate movements, she slips down the dresser and reaches for the fastenings of the wedding gown—the white silk that was meant to mark her as my property. She lets it slide down her body, a ghost of a dress pooling at her feet in a heap of discarded promises.
Quickly, she takes off her lingerie until she’s standing before me naked and glorious. I suck in a breath.
Then, her hands find the buttons of my suit. She works them with a focused, frantic energy, stripping the armor from my chest until there is nothing left but skin and heartbeat. Sheunbuckles me, zips down my pants, and helps me step out of them. Until I’m as naked as she is.
She doesn’t look away. She takes my hand, her fingers locking firmly with mine, and leads me toward the bed.
Chapter 12 – Sienna
I know exactly what I’m doing. Or maybe I’ve completely lost it. Honestly, I don’t even care anymore.
Sebastian has started a fire inside me that I can’t put out. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I know I’ll wake up tomorrow and regret every second of this, but tonight, I don’t want to stop.
He wraps his arms around my waist and lowers me onto the bed. He’s being so careful with me, like I’m made of glass. I like it, but it feels wrong. Five years ago, he was rough and demanding, and I loved him for it. I wonder when he became this gentle.
The room is dark, lit only by the faint moonlight peeking through the balcony curtains. Shadows move across his face as he leans over me. His jaw is tight, and his eyes are sharp, filled with all the things he’s trying to hide from me.
