“Capable of it? Sure. I’ve done worse.” He shrugs. “But the fact of the matter is I didn’t.” He pulls my body flush against his, his arm wrapping around my waist. “Now let me inside you,” he says, his voice thick as he presses his nose into my hair.
I feel my clit pulse at his words. He’s right. About believing him and about being afraid. Afraid to trust him. Afraid to fall for him. Afraid to lose him. The arm that’s around me dips low, cupping my ass and squeezing before slipping between my legs. “Tell me you want me.”
A moan slips out, and I sag into him as he slides a finger through my lower lips. “No.”
“Tell me.”
My eyes fall closed as he circles my clit lightly, teasingly, not giving me the pressure I need. I feel his cock harden between us through his boxers, and I push into his hand, wanting more.
“Say it.”
“I want you,” I say through clenched teeth. I hate him for making me say it aloud, but I hate the thought of not getting off even more. His finger slips through my wetness, smearing it back farther to my tighter hole.
“You want me, where?” he asks, pushing past the tight rim. I suck in a breath, my body tensing up. “You’ll have to be more specific next time.” Then he’s dropping to his knees, his face diving between my legs. His tongue spreads me, lapping at my clit, and it’s all I can do to stay upright.
“Put your foot on the ledge,” he commands. I do as he says, and then he’s sliding his middle finger in and out as he licks me, the sensations almost too intense.
“Fuck,” I whine, gripping the shower curtain for support. “Please, Sebastian.”
“Please, what?”
“Please fuck me. Make me feel.”
He stands abruptly, shoving his boxers down around his thighs before picking me up and slamming me into the wall. He fills me in one motion, causing me to cry out. He fucks into me roughly, punishingly, and I take everything he’s giving me.
“Can you feel me now?” he grits out before dipping his head to take my nipple between his teeth.
“Yes,” I breathe, teetering on the edge as he fucks me brutally. Suddenly, the water turns to ice, and my teeth start to chatter. Sebastian hoists me up, my legs locking around him before he turns the water off and walks out of the bathroom. He walks us over to the bed, the room noticeably warmer with the heater on. I look over to see all my clothes laid across the top, none of them being even close to dry.
Sebastian tosses me onto the bed and I land with my legs splayed open. Grabbing my ankle, he flips me over onto my stomach, then pulls my ass up where he wants me. My knees are spread, pressed against the quilt, everything on display for him. Two hands land on my shoulder blades, smoothing down my back, then the curves of my waist, down my ass. Then his fingers are pushing inside me, twisting and pumping. I drop my head between my shoulders, pressing back into him.
“Tell me you know I didn’t do it,” he says. When I don’t respond, he pulls his fingers from me, eliciting a whimper of protest. But then he’s back, pressing against the tight ring of my ass. I gasp, jerking forward, but his other hand grips where my thigh meets my hip, holding me in place.
“Tell me,” he says, slowly working a finger in and out.
“Sebastian,” I breathe, dropping my chest into the mattress, the side of my cheek mashed against the quilt. He starts to move faster, my tense body gradually loosening as I get used to the sensation.
“Say it,” he snaps, slapping my pussy. I jump, not expecting the sting.
“I know you didn’t do it,” I shout, and then he’s lining himself up behind me, shoving inside. “Oh God,” I say, lurching forward. This angle makes everything deeper, more intense. “It’s too much.”
“Never enough,” he argues, both hands clamping down on my ass, pulling me back as he fucks into me. “Why is it never enough with you?” His voice is desperate, almost angry.
I feel the familiar tightening, the heat unfurling low in my stomach that tells me I’m going to come. His hand moves from the side of my ass to my lower back, and then his thumb is circling the ring of my ass before pushing inside again. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, voice strained as his hips and thumb work in tandem, sending me over the edge.
“Sebastian!” I break apart, feeling myself clench and release around him, and he growls at the feeling. I collapse against the bed and his body flattens against my back, hands coming to fold over the tops of mine as he lazily pumps his hips.
When I finally come back down to Earth, he rolls my sated, boneless body over, sliding in between my thighs, filling me again. One hand on my hip and one grips my jaw as he slips in and out of me. “Look at your cum all over my cock,” he says, looking between our still-damp bodies, and then he’s fusing his mouth to mine, kissing me deep and hard and full of intensity. I come again unexpectedly. He curses, pulling from my body, kneeling on the mattress and fisting his length as his cum spills onto my stomach.
He stands, walking toward the bathroom, and I absentmindedly swirl my finger through the mess he left on my stomach. A second later, he appears with a towel, heated eyes staring down at me. He cleans me up, rubbing the towel across my belly and in between my thighs. Tossing it to the floor, he climbs in bed next to me. He sprawls out on his back before tugging me into his side and pulling on my knee until I have one leg over his stomach.
We lie in silence, content just to be next to each other like this again. Except this time is even better, because we’re alone, in an actual bed, without the threat of someone walking in on us at any moment. Finally, I ask the question that’s been plaguing my mind.
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”
“I know exactly who it is,” he replies, his voice thick with sleepiness.
“Tell me.”