This, I’m not so sure about.
He grips my hair with both hands as he kisses me harder this time, and my face screws up against his.
The emotion between us is a tangible force.
I don’t even need sex. Him standing here and kissing me like this is enough.
His lips drop to my bare shoulder, and he walks around behind me.
He lifts one of my legs to sit up on the ottoman at the end of the bed. With his lips on my neck and his teeth in my skin, his hand dusts between my legs. He parts me with his fingers.
Goosebumps scatter all over again.
He bites my neck hard as he slides his fingers through my wet flesh. Our arousal is pumping hard between us, bouncing off each other like a rubber ball.
I can feel how much he wants me. He’s aching for it.
So am I.
He kisses me over my shoulder as he slides in two fingers, his other hand cupping my breast.
He works me, and then slides another finger in. Damn… the burn of three thick, strong fingers fucking me is hot and addictive. The sound of my wet arousal hangs in the air.
Instincts take over and I lift my leg higher. I want more.
Deeper, thicker, longer.
He gets rougher, both with his teeth on my neck and his fingers. I know we are both close to coming and he isn’t even inside me yet.
“Sebastian,” I whimper.
His lips take mine as I slide my hand under his robe and stroke his thick cock. It’s dripping with pre-ejaculate.
Fuck.
My eyes roll back. He feels so good.
I grip him hard, and he hisses. Our kiss becomes frantic, and I jerk him almost violently.
He shudders.
I smile against him as he loses control. In one swift movement, he bends me over the bed and onto my knees before he slams in hard.
I moan deep.
He repositions my hips and pushes my back down toward the mattress. “Drop your shoulders.”
I do as I’m told, opening myself completely to him. He spreads my lips with his fingers.
Then he’s riding me, hard and unapologetic. The sound of our skin slapping together echoes around the room, and I glance up into the mirror in front of us. He’s naked now. When did he take his robe off?
His olive skin glistens with a glow of perspiration, but it’s the look of sheer ecstasy on his face that makes me lose my head.
“Give it to me,” I moan.
He slaps me hard, and I cry out as my body contracts around him, the orgasm so strong it steals my breath.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He holds himself deep, and I feel the telling jerk of his cock deep inside of me.
I shudder as the aftermaths take over me, and he falls down over the top of me as we both gasp for air.
Then there’s silence.
Say something.
I close my eyes against the sheet beneath me, overwhelmed with emotion.
Please say something. Anything.
Sebastian
The soft moan from beside wakens me, April is in my arms.
I stiffen and ease back, and April instinctively rolls toward me to snuggle in tight. She’s warm, soft, and vulnerable.
She’s everything that I’m not.
My polar opposite, and yet she’s the same.
I listen to her regulated breathing as I lie and stare up at the ceiling. With every inhale of her breath, my chest tightens a little more.
The attachment I feel to her isn’t healthy for either of us.
But it’s so nice lying here with her. Five more minutes won’t hurt.
I close my eyes to try and force myself to relax.
In, out…in, out…in, out.
I repeat the breathing mantra in my head to try and calm myself but it’s hopeless.
My heart begins to hammer as an uncontrollable panic takes over. It starts at my toes, and like a tidal wave, I feel it rise up and over me.
I close my eyes to chase the demons away.
Stop it.
The sound of my pulse beats loudly in my ears.
The tightening of my chest.
The lack of air in my lungs.
I can’t stand it any longer.
Waking up with April Bennet starts my day with a panic attack. The kind that’s unforgiving and makes me feel like shit.
I hate that I can’t wake up with her.
I hate that I’m so fucked up.
I slide out of bed and gather my clothes together before I carefully open the adjoining door to my room. I take out my wallet and hold it in my hand, I need to pay her. I stare down at the cash in my hand.
What am I doing?
Uncontrollable panic, sets in.
I carefully open the adjoining door to my room. I’m as quiet as I can be, because there’s only one thing worse than sneaking out of April’s room in the morning to do the walk of shame, and that’s her waking up and me having to explain myself.
Because I can’t.
What could I possibly say that makes this okay?
I take one last look at the beautiful woman sleeping without me with her creamy skin and blonde hair splayed across her pillow.
So alluring, so perfect.
Toxic.
I need to get as far away from her as possible.
Now.
I rush from the room and close the door behind me as quietly as I can. I lean up against the back of it in the darkness of my room, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath in the silence.
What’s happening?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I want her. I crave her. The nights in her arms are incredible. But every morning, I wake up completely freaked out.
She’s the mindfuck of all mindfuck.
April Bennet isn’t good for my mental health, and I know in my heart of hearts that I’m not good for hers.
This has to stop.
18
April
I woke when Sebastian jerked away from me.
I pretended to be asleep so that I didn’t have to hear the lies.
I feel sad for him.
I know that he wants me. Our chemistry together is undeniable, and I know that on some level he cares.
He just can’t do this, even though he’s trying.
I can feel him fighting with himself. The decent thing for me to do would be to take a step back and give him some space.
But knowing all too well how the fucked-up mind works means that he will probably go back to his gentlemen’s club to try and fuck me out of his system. I also know that if he crosses that line, that’s it for us. We will both be the person we regret letting go. The ones that got away.
I exhale, knowing this is a no-win situation.
Stay and fight, I push him away.
Give him the space that he needs, I lose him, anyway.
Maybe this is too hard, and we were never meant to be. That’s the logical answer.
I go to the door and put my ear against it to listen. I can hear the shower running.
Should I go in there and try and talk to him now?
But what would I say?
Hey, can we try and work this out because you’re the first person that has made me feel not dead inside?
I drop my head. It’s not all about me. It has to be about him, too. I can’t force this. I can’t fix him. He has to do this by himself.
My forehead rests on the back of the door as I think. I should just leave it.
If I don’t know what to say, I probably shouldn’t say anything at all.
I need to think on this further. I push myself off the door and get into the shower. Let’s see what the day brings.