“I’m yours, Mr. King.”
“And?”
“You’re mine.” At least for tonight.
And then everything changes. He’s no longer the gentleman; he’s the king. He pounds into me like he owns my body. His thumb plays my clit like it belongs to him. His tongue dips into my mouth like it’s our millionth kiss instead of our tenth.
Our bodies are like magnets, pushing and pulling together as Sebastian thrusts harder and faster. He demands everything from my body, not letting this be anything but incredible. My body is going to remember every thrust, every look, every moan. I’ll remember it all because he burned it into my memory.
My body is sizzling with need, but I’m still greedy for more. I grab his ass, sinking him deeper inside me. He responds by pushing my legs back until there is no way he can thrust any deeper, until we feel completely connected to each other.
I feel the undeniable need to speak—to explain to him what he’s doing to my body. To tell him how appreciative I am. But I can’t form words. All I can give him is breathy cries and moans of pleasure.
“I know,” he whispers over my lips before pulling them roughly into his mouth.
And then it happens. Sebastian’s body goes rigid, my body explodes, gripping him harder than a vice grip, my orgasm pulses around his cock. It’s an experience I’ve never had before. Sebastian gave me two unforgettable experiences in one night. How will my heart survive letting him go?
Sebastian resumes his rocking into my body. His growl is penetrating my broken heart and fills a spot in my soul as he releases his own orgasm.
I’m used to men who pull out immediately feeding me some garbage about how good it was and then falling asleep snoring moments later. Those men meant something to me. I expect even less from Sebastian, my fake husband.
What I don’t expect is for him to stay inside me far longer than necessary, like he can’t bear to pull out and end the intimate side of our relationship.
“Do you remember?” he asks, referring to the first time we must have done this.
I shake my head with heavy breaths.
“Me neither,” he says, stroking my face. “Which is a damn shame, if it was anything like this.”
I feel the same way. I’m sure our first round of sex was good, but I didn’t realize until now exactly what I was missing out by not remembering. Now I do, and it feels like an enormous loss.
Sebastian pulls out, and as he does, a loud, ominous crack of thunder booms through us like Mother Natur
e isn’t happy with our separation either.
Join the club, I think to myself.
Sebastian gets up and goes to use the bathroom, and I wait for my turn in it. There are two bathrooms in the suite, but all my stuff is in this one. I don’t want to have to walk down the hall to the other one.
Sebastian stands over me just as I’m about to roll off the bed for my turn in the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Bathroom.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not escaping that easily.”
He grabs me by the midriff and pulls me back into bed with him. He has a washcloth, and he takes his time cleaning between my legs. Then he pulls my back to his front before draping us with the covers.
He’s spooning me. This was the last thing I expected him to do.
My heart hammers as he holds me—somehow, this feels more intimate than the actual sex.
“Tell me about your darkness,” he says into my hair.
And for the first time in forever, I want to.
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