“I’m here,” I said immediately. “I want this.”
He reached for his wallet in the pile of discarded clothes beside us and pulled out a small packet of lube, holding it up instead of assuming. “We’re both good?” he asked softly.
I nodded. “Negative. On PrEP.”
Relief crossed his face before desire took over again. “Me too. I want you bare.”
I nodded again, the decision settling between us, and something about choosing each other so openly made my chest hurt in the best way.
Sebastian leaned back against the couch, eyes dark and intent on me, hands steady as he guided me up. The world narrowed to the way his gaze never left mine, as if this mattered as much as everything else between us.
With his fingers slick and his mouth back on mine, he worked me open, ready for him. The heat eased into something heavier, deeper. I rocked against his hand, and he groaned into my mouth, biting my lip. After long, breathless minutes, he withdrew his fingers.
He moved lower, giving me room, and I braced my knees by his hips as he held himself upright. With our eyes locked, I bore down, taking him inch by inch—hot and perfect, stretching me effortlessly. I didn’t stop until I was fully seated, my body settled against his.
His eyes were molten, tracking every inch of me, more than once stopping at my chest and the glint of gold resting there. One hand left my hip, gliding over my stomach before steadying at my neck. “You look like an angel up there,” he said, voice rough, chest rising and falling hard.
I grinned, fingers sliding into his hair, twisting and pulling, just how he liked. The first roll of my hips dragged a low, primal sound from him.
My lips parted as his cock slid inside me again—out, then back in. “Do I fuck like an angel too?” I didn’t relent, smirk still in place, eyes locked on his half-lidded ones.
A raw chuckle escaped him as his hands returned to my hips, urging me on. “No,” he moaned, the corner of his mouth lifting.
I rose and dropped harder on his lap, the impact sharp enough to knock the breath from him, making his lashes flutter.
“You fuck like agod,” he rasped.
Sebastian spread his legs wider beneath me, hands locking on my hips as he drove up to meet me, forcing my body to take his thrust.
Fuck.
Yes—
My mouth fell open, a broken sound tearing out of me as we snapped into rhythm. All gentleness slipped away as our hands turned rough—his fingertips denting on my skin while my grip tightened in his hair, tipping his head back and dragging a hiss from him that was equal parts pain and pleasure. The smirk never left his lips as we matched each other, bodies pounding together like a challenge, a game of who could undo the other first.
I fucking loved it.
His hard, punishing thrusts, the fire behind his eyes, the sound of skin slapping skin—everything about this, this feral sex with him, made it ten times hotter.
He bit down on his lip, groaning, and for a moment I was sure I had him—until his hand closed around my cock and everything shattered.
My hands pulled free from his hair, bracing on the couch, on his shoulder, nails digging in as heat ripped through me and made my thighs quake. His grip was slick and unyielding, the pressure perfect.
The rocking of our bodies turned frantic, chasing our climax. I needed him with me—I needed to drag him over the edge with me—but then he tightened his hold on my hip and slammed up harder, the angle exact, the constant thrust inside me blowing my vision white.
“Fuck—gonna come,” I gasped, barely forcing the words out before my body seized. My thighs locked, release crashing through me. I shook violently, spurts spilling across his chest, a long, deep moan breaking from my throat.
“So fucking hot,” Sebastian growled. “Want to come inside you.”
I nodded, wrecked, still shaking too hard to speak.
Then I was on my back, the couch warm beneath me as he took over completely.
“God,” I groaned as he drove into me, hard and deep, our matching medallions clinking softly together. His hands hooked under my knees, forcing me open, holding me there as he slammed into me again and again, until his moans turned ragged.
His hips stuttered, then snapped forward one last time, his cock kicking inside me as I watched his face above mine, pleasure stripped bare. He came with my name on his lips, body sagging forward as he filled me, small, involuntary jerks carrying him through the last waves of it.
When he stilled, I clenched around him, smiling when it dragged a hoarse groan from his throat. The aftershocks were still humming through me, made even sweeter by the way his mouth lingered—brushing mine once more before drifting down my jaw, over my collarbone. Slow. Unhurried.
