His tongue pressed, patient, waiting for my body to yield—and when it did, when he finally slipped inside, I clutched the pillow hard, panting into it.
“Ash…” I breathed as I heard him opening the lube again.
He kissed his way back up my spine, keeping me on my side. “I’ll go slow.”
I knew it was a question, even if he didn’t say it like one. I nodded, helpless.
He was careful with his fingers, even though my body was already loose, already open. And when the head of his cock pressed back against me—condom on—he stopped, chin resting over my shoulder. “Do you want this?”
“More than anything.”
A tortured moan left me as he eased inside.
“Slow, my darling,” he murmured against my shoulder. “Let’s fuck so slow we burn this bed to the ground.”
I reached back, tangled my hand in his hair, holding myself in place as he rocked his hips in a deep, unhurried grind, barely pulling out before pressing back in.
Sebastian brought his hand to his mouth, spat into his palm, then wrapped it around my cock, stroking in the same slow rhythm. The slick glide made me shudder.
“Good?”
“So fucking good,” I groaned, pushing back into him.
“Perfect,” he said softly. “You’re perfect.”
The shower was running behind me.
I stared at myself in the mirror—at the mess of tangled curls on my head. There were bags under my eyes, but my skin looked fucking radiant. Glowing.
My gaze traced over it all. To the hickey blooming just under my jaw, dark and unmistakable. To the bite mark peeking over my shoulder, the one he’d left when he came. To the raw redness across my chest, still tender from the scrape of his beard.
Steam began to curl through the room.
Sebastian stood by the glass door, one hand under the water, testing and adjusting the temperature. My eyes dragged back to my reflection—to my kiss-swollen lips.
That last round had turned into an hour-long, achingly slow fuck that ended with me spilling over his hand again. Instead of letting me drift off afterward, he’d kissed me deeply, his hands roaming until he pulled me up and into the bathroom.
My thighs were still trembling.
I should’ve felt exhausted. My body certainly was. But my mind was lit up—completely consumed by him, by this fire burning between us. An insatiable need to have, to taste, toclaim. Whatever doubts I’d been carrying hadn’t disappeared—they’d become something else entirely. And as I cataloged the bruises marking my skin, the only thought left was how badly I needed to make him mine—to hold on before anything could take him away again.
Bare feet padded across the tile behind me. I felt his presence before I saw him, his gaze roaming over me as well, a low hum of approval leaving him. Goosebumps erupted across my skin.
Because he’d wanted the same thing.
And he’d gotten it.
Sebastian braced his hands on the counter, caging me in, a smile tugging at his mouth as he looked at our reflection.
I leaned my head back against his shoulder. “I’m looking a little rough.”
Shaking his head, his eyes swept over me once more. “Masterpiece.” That was all he said.
He pressed a kiss to my cheek before moving away toward the shower, and I turned to watch him go—watch the muscles in his legs tense and flex with each step. His ass tightened as he walked, and the low bathroom light caught every line of him, highlighting each perfectly carved groove. He was so tall. So thick. Dark hair dusted over his calves, his thighs, his groin—Sebastian turned onto his side, and my gaze followed that perfect trail up his chest. His hair was a little longer, now mussed from my hands.
I loved him like this—wilder.
He stepped into the shower, the waterfall head soaking him in seconds. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand through his hair, and I swear the moment slowed as I licked my lips.
