“I don’t hear you begging, Sebastian,” I said, then stroked his cock with one hand and massaged his balls with the other, licking up his shaft to the tip. “I think I need to hear you beg me to let you come.”
“Please? Fuck, Dru, I’m dyin’ here…I ache so fuckin’ bad. I need to be inside you. I need to feel your cunt, wild thing. Please. Please. Want me to beg? I’m begging. Please let me come.”
I let go of him, straddled him again. “Hmmmm…I think you’re almost desperate enough. But not quite. And I think I need another orgasm, first.”
“I’m plenty desperate, Dru. I swear.”
I slid up his chest, brought my pussy to his mouth. “Eat me out again, Sebastian.”
“Fuck, Dru…I could spend every single fuckin’ second of my life eating this sweet cunt of yours and never get enough.” He was as good as his word, and he buried his face in my folds, tongue thrashing, lips suckling, stubble scratching.
Every single second of your life? Sounded an awful lot like love to me, Sebastian.
I thought it, but I didn’t say it. No need. He’d get there, I’d get there. I didn’t need the words, not yet, at least. I would, someday. But for now, knowing he wanted me this badly, knowing I wanted him this badly…feeling at home with him, in his arms, in his life, even around his crazy brothers…it was enough. More than enough.
I lost all capacity for thought, then, as his talented mouth pushed me to the edge and then over it, sent me crashing and thrashing to another orgasm so potent I had to grit my teeth from screaming out loud, and even then whimpers and groans and whining gasps escaped me, and even when I came he didn’t relent, just kept devouring me until I was rocking against his face and grunting in time with my thrusts, fingers fisted in his hair, coming and coming and coming—
I wrenched myself away, gasping. I stared down at him; he had my essence smeared all over his mouth and chin. “I like you with my pussy juice all over your face,” I said. “I think I’ll keep you like this.”
He exhaled roughly. “How about you just keep me, period?”
I slid my aching, throbbing, pulsating pussy down his chest to his belly, leaving a wet line of desire on his flesh. Then I nudged his cock against my opening, hovered there for a moment, my body flush against his, breasts flattened against his chest, my hands on his shoulders.
I impaled myself on him, took him to the hilt, gasping raggedly as he split me open. “Sebastian—”
“Dru?”
“What if I just never went back?” I asked it with his cock fully seated inside me, my pussy burning as he stretched me apart. “I kinda like it here.”
He rolled his hips beneath me, pushing deeper yet. “I don’t got much to offer. Probably never will. This bar, my brothers…shit, me, as I am right now…this is what it is. It’s all it’ll ever be. I ain’t the upwardly mobile type, sweet thing. Got no need for fancy houses and shit. You wanna stay here? Nothin’ would make me happier, but it’s gotta be what you want—Ketchikan, my grumpy ass, and my seven ugly, annoying, stupid brothers.”
“Your seven gorgeous, incredible brothers, you mean?”
“Yeah…no. Ugly and annoying. But they’re mine, and they’re part of the package, I guess.”
“We just met.” I groaned as he rolled his hips again, filling me, moving inside me. “This is kinda crazy, you know?”
“Known your sexy ass less than three fuckin’ days, but I’m hooked, Dru. That’s all I know. Crazy? Sure. Whatever. Don’t really care what you call it. Maybe shit’ll change for one or both of us. No way of knowing. All I know right now is I can’t get enough of you, and I like you here, and I like myself better when you’re around.”
I started moving, then. I couldn’t take any more deep talk or emotional intensity. The whole point of this was to distract him from his pain, to help him get past the huge weight he’d let go of with his brothers. To show him that emotional maturity and vulnerability was sexy to me.
But it’d gone past that, somehow.
He was inside me. Literally, obviously, but metaphorically, too. The moment I walked into this bar I’d felt calmer, I’d felt as if I was somewhere I belonged. It wasn’t the bar itself, though, it was this man. Was I in love? Maybe. Getting there. If I wasn’t, I was learning that what I’d felt for Michael hadn’t been love at all. Affection, sure. I cared for him—at least, I had. Now I just hated him. But it hadn’t been love. Because what I felt for Sebastian after something like forty-eight hours made everything I’d shared with Michael over four years pale in comparison. Made it seem stupid and paltry and flimsy and weak, like a tiny candle flame guttering from lack of oxygen. Sebastian was a wildfire, hot and majestic and dangerous and out of control.