There was no stopping this.
Not sure I wanted to…in fact, I knew I didn’t.
God, god, god, he felt so fucking amazing inside me. Heaven. Home. Perfection. Glorious. Words failed.
But words didn’t matter, because Sebastian wasn’t a man for whom words really mattered—actions mattered. He could tell me he loved me till he was blue in the face, but if he didn’t act like it, it wouldn’t matter, because it wouldn’t be true; another lesson learned thanks to Michael. But because Sebastian wasn’t a man of many words, he also would never say anything he didn’t mean. He wouldn’t waste his breath on bullshit.
“Shit, Dru, you’re makin’ me crazy here, wild thing.” His voice barreled through me, that deep ursine rumble of his.
I’d lost myself in him, feeling him, thinking about him, which only served to tease him further, make him crazier. But it served my purposes. I wanted him crazy.
I propped myself up with my hands on his chest, rocked my hips forward to pull him nearly out of me, lifted up on my knees to angle him away.
“Making you crazy, am I?” I leaned in and bit his chin. “Sebastian, sweetheart—you have no idea what crazy is.”
There’s no better term for what I did to him then than to say I twerked on him. Bounced my ass up and down hard and fast in short little movements, so his cock ground in and out of my pussy in staccato machine-gun rhythm. After about thirty seconds of this, he started writhing, his spine going concave, his hips thrusting up, and he was yanking at the T-shirt trying to get away, grunting and snarling like a savage.
I bounced on him until he was riding the ragged edge of orgasm, tensed, arched, thrusting, groaning.
“Fuck, fuck—Dru, gonna come so fuckin’ hard, Dru!”
I jerked my hips away so he flopped out of me. “I’m not ready for that quite yet,” I said, then kissed him to take the sting out of losing my pussy.
“Fuck! Goddammit, Dru. I think you got your revenge already. Enough.”
I bit his lower lip until he grunted in pain. “Not so sure about that, actually. I think I could tease you a while longer. Another…oh…hour or so?”
His snarl then was inhuman. He hauled at the twisted cotton of the T-shirt until his muscles bulged and his veins stood out. I heard seams pop, and then, after another roaring straining heave, the fabric gave way and his hands were free.
He was on me in a flash.
Curling forward, he snagged my wrists and jerked me against his chest. “Now you’ve done it,” he rumbled.
I wriggled against him, leaned in to lick the tip of his nose. “Oh goody,” I breathed.
He chuckled. “Why you dirty little minx! You were riling me up on purpose, weren’t you?”
I felt myself being lifted as he caught me in his arms and rose to his knees. “Maybe.”
“Tryin’ to make me crazy?”
“I like you when you’re wild,” I said, going still in his arms, feeling utterly content and safe right where I was. “Plus, I hated seeing you upset.”
He pressed his lips to mine in a brief, soft kiss—which felt like a wordless thanks—then bit my lip like I had his, hard enough to really hurt. “I’m always wild, Dru.”
“Good,” I whispered. “Tame is for pussies. Been there, done that, bought the wedding dress. No thanks.”
His lips curled in a predatory smile, and then he tossed me to the bed on my stomach. He knelt behind me, grabbed me by my hips and hauled me backward toward him. I watched him over my shoulder, and I quivered at the sight of him. Tattoos covered his arms, shoulders, and chest in whorls and eddies of ink, turning his skin into a canvas, bright colors and bold images sheathing rippling muscles. He was huge and hard behind me, his hands smoothing over my back, caressing my ass, gripping my hips.
He gripped his massive cock in one hand, teased my opening with his fingers, and guided himself into me slowly, gently, until his hips were flush against my ass. A momentary pause, and then he pulled back, slid back in. Slow, deliberate.
Another slow, lazy thrust, his hands roaming my hips and ass, praising them with his hands, worshipping me with his touch.
Then he leaned forward over my back, gathered my hair in his fist. “That’s all the gentle I’ve got patience for,” he growled.
I writhed against him, shoving my ass against him, driving his cock into me. “Told you, Sebastian, I don’t want gentle.”
He let out a ragged breath, and then tightened the pressure of his grip on my hair, pulling me back with it. He drove his cock into me on a growl, and his palm smacked against my ass, setting it to stinging and quivering. “You’re saying you want it rough?”