Thumbs flicked across the buds.
A fever of energy.
A rush of lust.
My head rocked back, and I gasped for a breath.
Feral eyes speared me and I lifted my arms, gripping my hair as I stared back at him, giving him more—showing him that I was offering all of me.
And I could feel his pulse, sense it move, a quickening of severity that pounded through his veins.
I suddenly felt powerful. Beautiful. A requirement for this stunning man.
Something like a growl rumbled in his chest, and he quickly spun me around. In the same second, his arm raked furiously across the booth tabletop, flinging his empties out of the way. One fell to the plush booth seat, another to the floor, the sound of glass crashing on the wooden floors the only noise against our ragged breaths.
He pressed me down with a hand to the back of my neck. Cold polished wood met my bare breasts, and another whimper passed from my tongue as he wedged his knee between my legs, spreading them apart. Air hit my backside as he bunched up my skirt. He yanked at my panties, ripping them free. I heard the rustle of his jeans, the tearing of foil—his body so close I could feel him rolling a condom on his cock.
I sucked in a breath, so turned on I couldn’t see.
Fingers glided through my exposed center. “You ready for me?”
That same heady threat, and I shook, bracing myself for the pleasure that only he could bring.
He rocked into me and I cried out, my mouth gaping open and my cheek pressed to the table as I writhed against the perfect intrusion, so big and full and better than anything I’d ever experienced in all my life.
Because he’d somehow become a part of my everything.
For a moment, he stilled. Then he withdrew and drove back in.
“Every time,” he grunted. “Every fucking time.”
Desperate fingers sank into my flesh, gripping my hips as he began to fuck me.
His movements were almost savage.
Sebastian was never gentle. But I could feel something inside him had slipped. Tripped. As if he’d sat out here alone, and during those passing hours he’d wondered if he’d ever get to touch me again and, now that he was, he was taking everything he could while he had the chance.
Frenzied, his thumbs raced along where we were joined.
Something about it felt intimate and raw and honest, and I was falling further, being sucked beneath the surface.
A stone in his sea.
Completely drowning in this man.
Sliding his hands up, he palmed the cheeks of my bottom. Spreading me wider. Taking me deeper.
“Do you feel me?”
Yes.
“Do you feel me, Shea?”
“Yes,” I mumbled frantically.
His thumbs ran up and down the crease of my ass, and I gasped out when he swirled a finger around the sensitive flesh, the man touching me in a way that no one else had, and again, my spirit trembled in fear.
In vulnerability.
Defenseless.
Slowly he pushed it inside.
I groaned and dragged a dizzying breath into my lungs, pulling away from him, pressing back, his touch beyond anything I could fathom, eclipsing thought, erasing reason.
Dark, dark pleasure blinded my eyes, indecent and decadent, and I clawed at the wood.
“You’re never gonna forget me, Shea.” Another threat. “Never.”
Every part of me tightened, that thrill swelling full and fast. Lifting me higher.
When in reality, I was falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Until I finally hit the bottom.
Shattering.
Splintering.
Breaking completely apart.
Bliss spread far and wide, fragmenting out, saturating every cell in my being.
His name. His name. His name.
On a grunt, he jerked and he cried out mine, gripping me almost painfully, taking me as deeply as he could as his body shook with his release.
I could feel the tremor of his muscles, the power of his being, consuming me.
And there was no stopping them, the words that fought to be said. “I love you.” It tumbled from me as a small cry, no longer able to hold it back.
He froze, and my pulse dipped and thudded. So slow. Too loud. A weight bore down on me as I felt every intrinsic part of him detaching.
“Sebastian.” It was a plea made up of fear. I told him I didn’t have time for distractions. But more than that, I had no time for games. I hadn’t played them with him before and I refused to start now.
He needed to know.
Without a response, he pulled out and readjusted my skirt.
Covering me in the moment I was most exposed.
And that emotion was back, pressing firm and fast, squeezing brutally at my chest.
He stepped back, and I could hear him ridding himself of the condom, tossing it in the bin at the wall, wrestling with his jeans.
Tears resurfaced in my eyes, and I struggled to get my camisole up as my mind raced to catch up with the quick, deadly shift in his mood.