Текст книги "The Billionaire Takes a Bride"

Автор книги: Jessica Clare

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

She rocked on his hand, her nipples scraping against the front of his shirt. “Then you finger me until I get off, huh? And then when we get home, I get you off?”

His cock pulsed in response to the offer. “Whatever you want to do.”

She bit her lip and then leaned forward and scraped her breasts against his chest again. “I think I want your fingers on my clit.”

He could do that. Sebastian slid his fingers through her warmth, then pulled back, seeking the tiny bump of her clit. He could tell immediately when he hit it, because she hissed with pleasure, and her hands went around his shoulders, clinging to him.

“Oh, god. Right there.” Her eyes closed and she tilted her head back. And god, she was fucking gorgeous and wanton, and it made his dick ache so hard he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stand again. He didn’t care, though. He just rubbed two fingers around her clit, circling it and trying to figure out what kind of stroke she liked best.

Her breasts jiggled before his eyes as she rocked her hips against his hand, and they were close enough to be a temptation, but too far for his mouth to reach. “Cup your breasts,” he told her. “Feed those pretty nipples to me.”

“Mmm,” she moaned, riding his hand. One of her hands slid up her uniform to cup her breast, pointing her nipple toward him.

He leaned forward and latched on to the peak, his hand at the small of her back to anchor her, the other still working her clit as she straddled him. The tiny bud was taut in his mouth, and as he flicked his tongue over it, she gasped. Her hips began to move faster, and then she was grinding against his hand, moaning his name. Encouraged by her wanton response, he scraped his teeth over her nipple, dragging them over the sensitive peak.

“Keep . . . touching . . . me,” she encouraged, her hand going to his hair and twining her fingers in it. He continued to lavish attention on her breast, stroking her clit with firm, quick movements as she rotated her hips against him. Her movements grew more and more frantic, until she was whimpering against him, and he could feel tension building in her legs as they clenched around him. “Oh, god,” she whimpered in a small voice. “Oh, god. Oh, Sebastian. Oh, god. I’m going to come. Oh, god. Oh, god.”

Someone tried to open the locker room door, and then began to bang on the door.

Sebastian ignored it. His girl was about to come so hard while riding him, and he wasn’t going to give that up for anything. His fingers moved faster, his strokes becoming rougher and deeper. He continued to work her nipple with his mouth, teeth, and tongue, flicking, licking, and then sucking on the hard little tip. She kept riding him, but she seemed to need more. So he thrust a finger deep inside her and seated his thumb against her clit, rubbing it back and forth.

A high, keening sound escaped her throat as someone knocked on the door. Chelsea shuddered against him, and her thighs felt like iron around his hips, squeezing him as she came. All the while, he kept working her with his hands and mouth, so fucking aroused and proud of her.

She’d rode him like a fucking champ.

And granted, it was only his hand, but it was a step in the right direction. She continued to rock her hips against his hand a moment longer, then let out a long, boneless sigh and moved both of her hands to his hair, hugging him against her. “Oh, god, Basty, that was incredible.”

He pressed kisses to her neck. “You’re trying to kill my erection with that shit nickname, aren’t you?”

She giggled, the sound so confident and sweet that it made his chest ache to hear it. “Like nails on a chalkboard?”

“Like plaid and sofas. Sex and that name do not go together.”

“Oh, baby.” She patted his shoulder. “There you go again with one of those terrible comparisons. We really need to get you a book on them.”

The door pounded. “Hey,” someone bellowed. “Open the fuck up! This is our locker room!”

“Gimme just a minute,” Chelsea called.

“That you, Chesty?”

“It’s me,” she yelled, and began to pull up her uniform. She reached into the front and tucked her breasts back into her bra, then sighed and gave one last wiggle when he pulled his hand free from her panties.

“How long until we make it home?” Sebastian asked as she got off his lap. He stood up and adjusted himself, tucking the head of his cock into the waistband of his pants to try and hide his arousal. It was uncomfortable as all fuck, but it was just another thing he’d endure for her.

He’d endure everything for her.

She giggled again and pointed at the front of his pants. “Um. There’s a wet spot there from me.” Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not,” he said, untucking his shirt to let it hide the evidence. He leaned in and kissed her again.

“We’ll be home soon,” she promised, and there was an excited light in her eyes that promised very soon, indeed.

Chapter Twenty

Chelsea practically wiggled with a mixture of joy and anticipation the entire time Coach Black HellVet talked to the team. Sure, there was celebrating and cheering, as well as a few pointers on where to improve for the next game. All Chelsea could think about was Sebastian.

Sebastian with his hot, sexy mouth, his awesome fingers, and the way he’d pushed her to an orgasm after she’d climbed all over him. Oh, Sebastian.

She hadn’t even cared that the other Rag Queens gave her hell for locking them out of the locker room and then being mussed and tousled when she opened the door with a man in tow. She’d just grinned and sent Sebastian out to wait for her. They’d ride the subway home together and then she’d climb all over him again for round two.

She’d had an orgasm. She’d enjoyed kissing.

These were milestones.

Chelsea felt alive again. Normal. She’d had no idea why she’d attacked Sebastian like that. She’d just been on a euphoric high after the buzzer went off and the Rag Queens had come back from behind to win. She’d skated around the track one last time and as the crowd had surged forward to congratulate them, she’d looked for Sebastian. His was the face she’d wanted to see more than anything, and when she’d saw the shining pride in his gaze and his excitement that she’d won . . .

It had been a major turn on for her. She’d grabbed him and kissed him, and she’d felt . . . something.

She’d felt all kinds of things, really.

And it had been incredible. She’d liked kissing him. No, scratch that, she’d loved kissing him. Loved it. Wanted more of it. Wanted to devour him on the floor right then and there. Wanted to grab him by the collar and kiss him until she was blue in the face and her lips hurt from mashing them against his. She wanted to kiss for hours and hours on end.

She wanted to cry with happiness. She liked kissing again.

And suddenly Sebastian wasn’t just her handsome, sensitive-souled friend-slash-husband. He was walking sex on a stick and she wanted to crawl all over him and rip his clothing off and lick every bit of him until he was screaming with need.

So she’d dragged him to the locker room and made him finger her until she’d come.

No regrets.

Well, okay, if they’d had more time, she’d have slid her face into his lap and given him the same happy ending she’d gotten. But she was going to do all that and more later tonight, now that she had her mojo back.

And she was excited about it.

When the coach released them, Chelsea jumped to her feet and threw her skates in her bag, hurrying out of the locker room.

“Whoa, slow down,” Cherry Fly teased, stepping in front of Chelsea. “We’re going out for drinks to celebrate. You want to come?”

Normally she loved hanging with her girls after a bout. It didn’t matter that she didn’t drink—she didn’t like the way getting drunk made her feel, that out-of-control, loopy sensation that reminded her of her rape—but she enjoyed the company. But tonight? Tonight she just wanted Sebastian and more kisses and more touches. “I can’t, my guy’s waiting for me.”

“Bring him along.” Cherry shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first spouse to tag along. Won’t be the last.”

“No, seriously, we have plans.”

“Oooh,” Grief Kelly said, appearing. She looped an arm over Cherry’s shoulders. “Someone wants to get laid.”

Chelsea ruined a perfectly good bitch-face by giggling.

“Called it,” Cherry said, and high-fived Grief Kelly. “Fine. You go get you some, but we get details at next practice.”

“Hell no.” Chelsea pushed past them. “You guys can just use your imaginations. See you next time!”

A few whistles and catcalls followed her out the door, and she flipped them the bird, grinning. Let them say what they wanted. She didn’t care. It was all good-natured ribbing anyhow. Her girls knew her. Maybe not as well as Pisa, but enough to know that she didn’t give her heart easily.

Then again, this wasn’t heart, was it? This was just body.

But she kept thinking of what he’d told his family. I love her.

She had all kinds of hard-to-classify feelings for the guy herself. Maybe she wasn’t quite ready for the L-word just yet, but she was sure heading in that direction. And after tonight, who knew? Maybe she’d orgasm like a champ and declare endless love for him.

It could happen.

Actually, it really could happen, and the thought made her giddy. She hustled down the hall to where Sebastian was waiting and bounded up to him, her feet feeling weird in sneakers after being in skates all night. He had his notepad tucked under one arm and gestured at her bag. “Want me to take that?”

She clasped his hand in hers instead, keeping her bag firmly on her shoulder. “A girl can carry her own skates.”

“Of course you can. But you were skating all night and all I did was sit in the bleachers and drink beer with Diane.”

She chuckled. “I’ve met Diane. Nice lady. Can’t skate for shit.”

“So she tells me.” He grinned down at her as they walked. “Skating’s important in a spouse.”

“It is,” she said loftily. “I’m going to ask you to show me your moves at some point.”

“All my moves don’t involve wheels,” he said, and gave a wiggle of his brows. At her snort, he turned thoughtful. “Diane saw my drawings, though. She thinks I should sketch the girls on the team for their trading cards.”

She gave his hand a happy squeeze. “That’d be awesome! Are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled her closer to him protectively as they got to a congested part of the street. “The thought of opening up my art for other people to see . . . it feels very personal. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “It was hard enough showing you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I don’t know what I would have done if you’d laughed.” His eyes were so somber. “Your opinion is important to me.”

Her throat felt tight with emotion, and she gave his hand another squeeze. “Maybe start smaller then? One stranger instead of hundreds?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Good idea.”

“I have lots of them tonight.” Oh, her head was just full of all kinds of ideas. Dirty, filthy ideas. “Do you have condoms at home?”

He immediately steered her the opposite way down the street.

“Where are we going?”

“Pharmacy. For condoms.”

She laughed.

A half hour later, they were home. The moment they walked in the door, Sebastian tugged her bag off her shoulder and began to kiss her. His mouth moved over hers, tongue slicking against her own. And it was . . . just nice.

There weren’t the fireworks from earlier. It puzzled her, and she let the kiss continue for a few moments before breaking off and giving his chest a little pat. “I should probably shower. I’m all sweaty and gross.”

He began to kiss her neck, pressing his mouth against her skin. “I don’t care if you’re sweaty. I like you just the way you are.”

“Yes, but I want a shower,” she insisted, tugging out of his arms. “Please?”

Sebastian studied her for a moment, then kissed the tip of her nose. “You bet. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

She smiled at him and gave him a quick, chaste peck on the mouth before heading up to the master bedroom’s bathroom. It was far more lavish than the one she’d claimed for her soap making, and Sebastian didn’t mind that she hogged his bathroom. She managed to hold it together until she started the water.

Then, she sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed her forehead, thinking.

Fuck, what was wrong with her? She’d been so easy with him earlier. So passionate. It was the mental breakthrough she’d needed. Surely she wasn’t a one-trick pony? Now that she’d had her orgasm—and what an intense, great orgasm it was—she wasn’t done, was she?

She had more in her than that, didn’t she?

It troubled her even as she showered using her favorite soaps. Her current favorite was lavender, the scent calming and fresh. She knew that the house and everything in it sometimes reeked of flowers and Sebastian never uttered a word of complaint. The man was a billionaire. He could have bought her someplace else to work if it bugged him. He could have insisted she shut down her soap business. Paid her to stop stinking up his town house. Instead, he let her be her. Let her run the show.

If she was still capable of love, Sebastian would be the man she could love.

But now? After she froze up at the door? She wasn’t so certain if she was cured or not. She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, then impulsively flicked the lights off.

A wave of sheer terror shot through her. The breath escaped her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. She was being smothered, back in the Dumpster again. Forgotten. Discarded like trash.

With a small cry, she fumbled against the wall, looking for the light switch. A moment later, bright light flooded the bathroom again and she heaved a sigh of relief and frustration.

Still broken.

So what was tonight’s orgasm about, then? She hated to admit defeat to Sebastian, that now that they were home and had bought condoms, she wasn’t sure if she could perform as expected.

The thought filled her with anxiety and unhappiness.

By the time she got her nerve up to exit the bathroom, her mood was shot, her earlier confidence shattered. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes with her into the bathroom and had to leave in her towel, and she worried it was going to make Sebastian think that she was game for more play.

At the thought, she nearly cried. Why did that part of her brain keep shutting down?

She couldn’t hide in the bathroom all night, though. So, tucking the towel in against her breasts, she sucked in a deep, steadying breath, and emerged.

Sebastian was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her. She saw he was paging through a derby magazine he must have gotten at the bout that night. He’d undressed, down to nothing but a wifebeater and boxer briefs that outlined the fact that he hadn’t forgotten their earlier interlude. His cock tented the front of the fabric.

The moment she exited the bathroom, he put aside the magazine and jerked to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

She gave him a tight smile. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Bullshit. I can see it on your face. Something’s bothering you.” He moved to the closet and got a bathrobe out, holding it out to her. It was a men’s bathrobe, in dark muted colors and thick. Women’s robes were always terry cloth or some satiny crap. It’d also cover her from head to toe in a most unsexy fashion. She took the robe and tied it around her body, then ditched her towel discreetly. “Now, sit down,” he commanded her, and pointed at the end of the bed, the spot he’d just vacated.

Chelsea thumped down unhappily.

He knelt in front of her, clasping her hands in his. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? That there aren’t any expectations from me? Despite what happened earlier?”

She looked into his beautiful eyes, so bright against his dark lashes, and felt a little bit of her crumple inside. “But that’s the problem. Earlier was so great, and when we got home, I just . . . I lost it, somehow. I don’t understand.” She sniffed and blinked rapidly, hating that she was going to cry over this. Lots of women had trouble orgasming, right?

She just happened to have trouble with all of it.

“When we kissed?” he guessed. “Do you think it was just nerves?”

“Maybe that was it,” she said quickly, leaping on the idea. “Want to try again?”

“We can, but I don’t want you to pressure yourself.” He stroked his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “No pressure, all right? If it’s not fun, it’s not worth it.”

“But it’s fun for you,” she sniffed.

The expression on his face was downright agonized. “Not if you’re not enjoying it.”

And that was what made Sebastian different from the man who had taken so much from her. Whoever it had been hadn’t cared if she was into it, or that she was drugged out of her mind and tied up so she couldn’t fight. That person had just wanted a convenient warm body to fuck and forget.

Sebastian wanted her. Chelsea. And he wanted her to enjoy his touches.

And god, she so desperately wanted to enjoy them, too.

Please, she said silently, and then patted the corner of the bed next to her. “Come sit?”

“Remember your safe word.”

Like she could forget it. It was branded into her mind as a thing she loathed to use but had no choice. Chelsea touched his cheek and guided his mouth down to hers. His lips caressed hers oh so gently, tongue brushing against the part of her mouth. He smelled good, tasted better. His kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle.

And she felt . . . absolutely nothing. That part of her mind had shut off again.

She pulled away, new, fresh tears rising. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he said, brushing a lock of wet hair off her forehead. “Other than being completely amazing in every way.”

“Every way but this one,” she pointed out bitterly.

“So you have a hang-up. You’ll get over it. I’m patient enough to wait for you.”

But you said you loved me. Will that wait too? She was dying to know, but too scared to ask. How long would his caring and affection last if he got nothing in return from her except a wife who couldn’t sleep with the lights off and grew utterly detached the moment he kissed her?

“Maybe we should go back to the locker room,” she muttered, frustrated. “Everything was awesome there, wasn’t it?”

His eyes lit up. “Aha.”

“What? Aha what?”

“Why was it you started playing derby again?” There was a wicked sparkle in his eye that made her wonder what he was getting at.

Chelsea tightened the robe about her and considered. “I started playing because I went to a practice and met the girls.”

“Yeah, but why derby? What about it appealed to you?”

He was getting at something, but she was too upset and frustrated and tired to follow along. She shrugged. “They looked so strong and confident on the track. Tough. Like nothing could bother them . . .” Her words trailed off and her eyes widened. She sat up straight. “You think it worked earlier because I was Chesty LaRude instead of me?”

“I think it was still you,” Sebastian said, leaning back on the bed, resting on his palms. “But I think that your confidence comes on the moment you put on your skates. It’s you, but it’s you when you know you’re untouchable and badass. Invulnerable.”

Was it all just a total mind game after all? “So . . . you think I should put on my skates?”

“Put on the whole uniform,” he said. “We can give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I roll down the stairs and break my neck?”

“I won’t let you anywhere near the stairs. How’s that?”

Could it work? She was almost scared to try. But that quick round of heavy petting in the locker room had been so wonderful. She’d felt so alive. So normal. Utterly perfect in his arms.

She wanted to find that again. So she jumped up off the bed and raced across the room to get her derby bag.

Her uniform was sweaty and gross after playing all night, but she had another one in her closet, so she pulled out her skates and then went to the closet. Out came the teeny, tiny pleated skirt that was more ruffle than anything else. Out came the Y-backed tank-top with RAG QUEENS on it in glittering rhinestones. She thought about the shoulder pads and knee guards, but opted against them. They tended to hold onto sweat and stink.

On went the striped knee socks, and then she began to dress. She skipped the bra, letting her breasts jiggle loose and free under the uniform. And, okay, she felt a bit more confident like that, and definitely more naughty. The fabric rubbed against her nipples, reminding her that Sebastian had sucked on them earlier, and she’d loved that. She’d felt it all through her body, right down to her core.

On went the tiny ruffle of her skirt. Underneath that, she normally wore her bright yellow spankies, but on a whim, she left them off. The lack of them left the lower half of her ass bare, and her pubic hair was just barely peeking out from under the front.

“Oh, fuck, that’s sexy,” Sebastian breathed. He hadn’t left his spot on the bed, as if approaching her might somehow ruin the moment. His hands were locked tight at his side, but his gaze was riveted to her. “I approve of the wardrobe changes.”

For some reason, so did she. Putting her uniform back on was getting her back into her zone. She felt . . . sexy. Strong. She bent and laced up one skate, then the other, and then stood, hands on hips.

She felt . . . good. Like herself.

Well, herself minus bra and panties.

She skated toward Sebastian, her wheels slow on the carpet. He gazed up at her with scorchingly hot eyes, and she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

Now for the true test—another kiss.

Chelsea licked her lips nervously. God, please let this work. She moved toward him and put her hands on his shoulders. He parted his legs so she could move between them and his hands went to her hips, sliding up and down the outside of her thighs. His touch was soothing and enticing at the same time, and she slid a hand to his hair, brushing the thick, dark curls off his forehead.

He gazed up at her, and for a moment, she was breathless at how utterly gorgeous he was. How had she gotten so lucky? How had this quickie fake marriage turned into something that obsessed her and made her want more out of life? Was that weird? Did she even care? All she knew was that she wanted to be normal for herself, and for Sebastian.

And she really, really wanted sex with him. Not sex where he hammered into her and she counted tiles. Good sex, the kind where her body gleamed with sweat and her mouth locked to his and every thrust inside her felt like it was going to undo her at a soul-deep level. That kind of sex.

Because otherwise, there was no point.

Lost in thought, she smoothed her fingers over his thick brows. He’d never push her. This was all her. Sebastian? Well, he was just awesome.

How had she gotten so lucky to get him?

She leaned down and pressed a light, sweet kiss to his mouth. God, she loved his lips. Soft but firm, full and sculpted. They were perfection. With a small sigh of pleasure, she deepened the kiss, her lips moving over his. Heat began to lick through her body, her nipples responding. As he kissed her back, it turned into an even deeper, wetter, hotter kiss, until their tongues were stroking so deep into each other’s mouths that she could have sworn she felt it all the way to her clit.

“How is it?” he murmured, breaking the kiss at one point.

“Need more.” Her mouth went to his again.

He pulled back. “Is that good?”

“It’s very good,” she said, and pushed him backward onto the bed, crawling over him. Her mouth remained locked on his, kissing him wildly. God, these kisses were delicious. It was like her senses were drugged with the taste of Sebastian, the feel of his mouth against hers, his wicked, wicked tongue flicking into her mouth.

She felt like she could kiss him forever.

“Can I touch you?” he whispered against her mouth between kisses.

“God, yes. Touch me all over. Everywhere.” Her hips rocked down against him, and then she was seated, spread over his cock. The sensation against her bare, open pussy made her gasp.

“Fuck, you are so incredibly sexy.” His hands went to her ass and gripped it, dragging her against his length as she moved her hips.

“You don’t think this is weird?” She pressed hot, quick kisses to his lips, then moved on to his chin and his jaw. “Me with the skates and the uniform?”

“Are you kidding? I think I’m living out a fantasy.” His breath hissed out as she nibbled her way down his throat. “You, no panties, skates . . .”

“Kinda like a porno, huh?” She giggled, lifting her head. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“If this is what it takes to get you comfortable, I will put on a pair of skates myself.”

She chuckled and sat up. Her fingers plucked at his undershirt. “Can I get you naked?”

He studied her. “Should we go slower? Take it easy?”

Chelsea leaned down and took his lower lip between her teeth. She teased it for a moment, and when he was closing his eyes in ecstasy, she told him, “I know what the equipment looks like, Sebastian. Unless you spring a second surprise penis on me, you’re not going to shock me.”

His eyes widened. “Did I not tell you my big secret?”

She snorted and rolled off of him. “Just get naked already.”

“Your bossiness is sexy. It’s like you’re a roller-skating drill sergeant.” He stood up and pulled the wifebeater over his head, his muscles flexing in a way that made her breathless and weak.

Oh, god, another one of his bad comparisons. She couldn’t stop giggling. “Really, Basty, I’m glad you’re not a writer.”

“Ugh, that nickname.” He shuddered and dropped his boxer briefs. “I think it’s the only thing worse than Nugget.”

“Then what should I call you?” She stared at the muscles of his ass as he moved. And his cock, which was erect and bigger than she remembered. Really, she just liked staring at him.

He pretended to consider for a moment. “Stud?”

Another round of giggles swept over her, and his boyish grin told her that he was not serious. But that was just fine. “Then come back to bed, stud.” She patted the mattress next to her. She was having such a wonderful time that she wasn’t even considering being nervous anymore. Her skates were big and bulky on her feet, but she didn’t care. She felt sexy and desirable.

He got down on his hands and knees and prowled toward her on the mattress, then leaned in and gave her another deep, seeking kiss that made her breathless. Her hand automatically stole between her legs, and she was surprised to find herself utterly soaked with arousal. Sebastian lifted his head and glanced down, where her fingers were stroking through her folds. “I’d give anything to be those fingers right now.”

“Yeah?” Her breath was an excited little whisper, and she spread her thighs a bit wider so he could watch her touch herself.

“God, yes. I want to bury my face there and not come up for air, ever.”

His words were turning her on. “What about my breasts?” They ached under her top, her nipples scraping against the fabric as she shifted on the bed.

“Oh, I’d definitely give them some attention, too. Take those sweet nipples in my mouth and just lick them for hours.”

She whimpered, because that sounded so good. Her fingers stroked her clit, and she sucked in a breath at how aroused she was.

He brushed another kiss over her mouth. “Where do you want to be touched, Chelsea?”

She responded by hitching her top up, revealing her breasts.

“Mmm, such pretty breasts.” He began to kiss her again, and one hand cupped one exposed breast. The feel of his warm hand against her skin was shocking, and she gasped against his mouth. His thumb grazed her nipple, and then she whimpered against him, licking at his tongue. “You want my mouth on yours or you want it on your breasts, baby?”

She had to choose? She wanted his mouth everywhere. It didn’t seem fair to have to decide. “You pick,” she panted.

He shook his head slowly, lips grazing over hers. “You’re in charge, Chelsea. My body may be over yours, but you’re calling the shots.”

His acknowledgment of that sent another little thrill through her body. Her fingers slid even more quickly around her clit, circling it and dragging wetness around the small bud. “My breasts,” she murmured. “Put your mouth on them.”

Sebastian began to kiss lower, moving down her throat and to her collarbones, then where her uniform was bunched up over her breasts. He pushed the material a little higher up and then began to kiss the soft slopes of her breasts. Her nipples ached with need and she moaned, arching up against his mouth. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” His tongue dipped out, tracing a line on her skin. “Please taste your skin? Because I am. You’re sweet and soft and like honey in my mouth. I can’t wait until you tell me I can go lower.” His voice was husky and confident, and his talk was making her squirm as much as his mouth was.

And he felt good, but he wasn’t quite where she wanted him to be. It was like he was deliberately avoiding the twin spots of pleasure that were her nipples. “Please lick my nipples, Sebastian.”

“Stud, remember?”

She giggled again. “Please lick my nipples, stud.” Her laughter hissed out of her throat when he bent low and flicked the tip of his tongue over one. It sent a bolt of desire right through her body, and she moaned, her fingers fluttering over her clit. “Oh, god, do that again.”

Sebastian’s tongue circled around one areola, and then he took the tip of her breast into his mouth and gently nipped it with his teeth. The sensation almost made her come off the bed. Her fingers moved away from her clit, her body too sensitive to take both sensations at once. And she wanted him to keep going. No, she needed it. She craved his touch, now that her body was awake and paying attention. “Oh, Sebastian,” she breathed. “You feel amazing.”

His lips teased her nipple, and then he licked it. A moment later, he blew cool air gently over the sensitive peak. “You’re so beautiful, Chelsea. You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of doing this to you. Of what I’ve imagined every night when you curled up against me in bed.”

She moaned, her mind full of the images he drew with his words. He licked and nibbled at her breasts over and over, until she was whimpering and rocking her hips with every tongue-flick he sent in her direction. Her skates dragged against the bed as she writhed against him.