The press of his thumbs dig into my inner thighs, spreading me wide open, and the strength in his upper body is the only reason I’m still on my feet. I’m moaning, my head spinning as perspiration drips between my breasts.
“I…I…need—” The plea fractures with a guttural cry.
“I know what you need,” he breathes against my wet slit. “No one will make you come as hard as I will.”
The steady licks of his tongue send me reeling. I hold his head between my thighs, my skirt forgotten as it falls where it may, and expel a choppy sonata of breathless cries as I grind on his face in wanton climax.
After the last wave recedes, he veers upright and crushes his mouth on mine. I’m so stunned by the bold move that I gasp and allow his tongue entrance.
It’s our first real kiss.
And it’s laced with the exquisite taste of me on his lips, accompanied by an aching groan in the back of his throat, infused with a desperate merge neither of us can deny.
He jerks my fingers to the hard ridge behind his fly. “See what you do to me?” His hand covers mine, urging a fast and firm rhythm against his jeans.
“I want to taste you.” My demand heats his lips, and they curve into a smile.
“Patience, princess. You’ll return the favor.” That smile widens with his usual cockiness. “The next time we see each other, you’re going to drop to your knees for me. No protests. No hesitation. No excuses. I expect you to suck the hell out of me.” Mischief illuminates his eyes as he thumbs my kiss-dampened lips. “And I don’t care who’s around to witness the massive load you’re going to swallow.”
Speechless.
Unhinged.
Shaking in the aftermath.
That’s how he leaves me after giving me the most powerful orgasm of my life.
But on the downward plummet to the cold, harsh ground, a sense of dread takes root because I know he’ll make good on his promise.
And he’ll do it at the most inopportune time.
Chapter Eight
Sebastian’s demand of reciprocity hangs over my head, which makes entering and leaving my studio an anxiety-inducing challenge. A few doors down from where he paints for the public, I scurry in and out of my own space, my breath catching in my lungs every time until I make it behind closed doors.
Because the thought of him catching me in-transit, one of his sexy clients at his side, makes me physically ill. I can’t imagine going down on him while a gorgeous model witnesses my humiliation.
I don’t want any humiliation at all. I want my first experience of putting my mouth on Sebastian to be as mind blowing for me as I hope it will be for him. I imagine his hands in my hair as I take him between my lips, his faded jeans unzipped and pushed to his thighs, and my knees aching—because of course that’s how he’ll want me. The mental picture shouldn’t get me so worked up, but it does.
Until the vision of Liam intrudes on the fantasy, and I fret over the possibility of running into both of them simultaneously. What a disastrous crash that would be.
And that’s why, a few days after Sebastian rocked my world in my studio, I decide to take control of the situation. With Landon and Elise returning tomorrow, I need to do something about Sebastian’s insane demand. Though demand isn’t the right word for it, because he didn’t issue an actual order. The command was apparent in his tone.
I set aside my sketchbook, unable to concentrate on my latest design—a summer formal incorporating a feathery pattern down the flowing A-line skirt. The sun set minutes ago, casting the sky in hues of blush rose and burgundy. Nighttime shadows creep into the corners of my sitting room, and I realize how much time I’ve wasted since the kitchen staff brought me dinner. I’ve been sitting in my window seat ever since, plagued with a lack of focus thanks to Sebastian.
Nervous flutters dance in my belly as I head into my bedroom and enter the adjacent wardrobe room. I’m not just going to take control of the situation.
I’m going to render him incoherent while I fall at his feet.
This crazy, spontaneous idea might be the only way to break past his defenses while distracting him from his cruel plan of humiliation by way of public indecency.
Desperate times and all of that.
Reaching into the bottom drawer of the tall lingerie chest tucked next to my collection of Louis Vuitton shoes, I pull out a teal lace teddy featuring a thong cut back. I picked it up on my trip to the island’s boutiques during my first month here. The purchase was an impulse buy encouraged by Faye.
Now I’m going to use it as a weapon.
Leaving my hair flowing freely, I touch up my lip gloss and powder my face, then I leave the privacy of my quarters. Only a knee-length jacket conceals the risqué ensemble hugging my body like a second skin. The black stiletto heels on my feet announce my presence in the hall, and I cross my fingers no one else is taking a trip on the elevator.