"The sex wouldn't be pretty good. It'd be the best goddamn sex either of us ever had, every single time. I'd make you come so hard so many fuckin' times you'd be beggin' me to quit just so you could catch your breath. I'd fuck that tight, wet, sugar-sweet cunt of yours every single night and every single day so hard for so long you'd be walkin' bowlegged. And no matter how much we fucked, Dru, I wouldn't ever get enough. And I damn sure wouldn't so much as think about another woman for as long as I had you. Shit, all I've gotten is one little taste of that pussy, and I can't think of anything else."
She blinked up at me, eyes wide, chest heaving, fingers clenched into fists on her lap. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
I cupped the back of her neck and leaned in, brushed my lips across hers. "That is what I was thinkin'."
"Oh," she breathed.
I moved my lips on hers, not quite kissing her, more teasing her with the promise of the kiss. "Yeah," I whispered back. "Oh."
She gazed up at me, torn. She wanted the kiss. Hell, she wanted everything I'd just promised her. It was a promise, too, and not an idle one. But she was still fighting whatever hang-up she had about letting go, and giving in to this thing between us.
She was quivering, shaking, barely breathing. Her lips trembled against mine, and her hands stole up to rest on my chest.
Bingo.
I pressed my lips against hers, traced her mouth with my tongue. She slid off the stool, pressed her body against me. God, those curves crushed against me, it drove me nuts. I'd sort of gotten my hard-on to go away, and now she was staring up at me with those absurdly blue eyes again and her tits were squishy against my chest and her hips were in my hands and her lips on mine were soft and warm and wet--
"Goddammit, Sebastian!" She wrenched herself out of my hands, knocking over a stool in her quest to escape. "Stop doing that to me."
"Doing what?"
She backed away from me. "Kissing me like that. Touching me like that."
I followed her. "See, your mouth says 'don't do that,' but your body and your eyes say 'do it again. Do it again and don't fuckin' stop.'"
She bumped against the front door. "I don't want to use you as a rebound."
"I don't mind."
"I mind," she snapped. "Yeah, I want you. That's obvious. But I'm not in a mental or emotional place to be wanting anyone."
"I can make you feel good, Dru." I pressed her up against the door, palmed her hip, touched my forehead to hers. "You deserve to feel good."
"It's too much. It's too soon." Her hands were fumbling behind her back.
"Not enough, and not soon enough. Let me erase it all, Dru."
"I don't want to forget it all."
"Not what you said last night."
"I was drunk. I made a fool of myself. I said a lot of stupid untrue shit."
"See, I think what you were sayin' last night was the truth. Embarrassing? Nah. And not stupid, either. Just the truth." I was rocking a monster erection, and I ground it against her core. "You feel that? It can be inside you. Making you feel incredible. Making all the bullshit go away. You want it. It doesn't have to be complicated, Dru. It can be simple, and real, and good. As long as you want it."
She closed her eyes, squeezed them shut, and shook her head. "Goddamn you, Sebastian. You're so bad. So bad for me."
"Spell it with two Ds and you've got it right, honey."
She huffed, because that was a pretty cheesy-ass line, but it was so bad it was good. Or...so Badd it was good.
Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all night.
She shoved open the door she'd unlocked while I was running my mouth, and ducked out into the storm.
I followed her out. "DRU!" I shouted, over the hammering rain and crashing thunder.
She stopped a few feet way, already soaked to the bone. "What?"
I pointed at a small sailboat docked a few slips away. "That's mine. Hang out there until you're ready to come back."
She nodded, and jogged toward my boat, hopped onto the deck and vanished into the cabin.
I let her go.
She'd be back.
I hoped.
7
Dru
Good goddamn and holy motherfucking hell, that man was potent.
Once he closed in, once he got those big strong hands on me...I was just lost. The way he kissed me, those soft lips brushing against mine, teasing me with the kiss, drawing it out of me, making me crazy. I couldn't handle him once he got close. And if he put his hands on me? Shit...I was gone. And his mouth? God, god, god. I'd never in my life felt anything like how Sebastian made me feel, spread out for him on that table.
I'd never been taken like that, just...claimed. He sensed that I wanted him, sensed that I'd been willing, and he just took me. No apologies, no requests for permission or is this okay? He just made me his, and made me feel fucking incredible, brought me to orgasm within seconds. Michael could make me come, but it took a lot of work, took a lot of direction and no, slow down, not there, don't stop don't stop, goddamn it I said don't stop! And then he'd usually stop, or slow down or speed up just when I was getting close, which would ruin it. And yes, sometimes I'd fake it just so I could give myself an O later, my way, no fumbling. Other times he'd get it right and we'd both get our Os, and it would be great. We'd feel close and in love and it was...nice.
Sebastian set me on fire.
There was not a single second of hesitation or fumbling. He knew exactly how to make me come, found my G-spot with unerring accuracy, slid those thick strong fingers inside me and licked my clit and tweaked my nipples--and god, the way he'd jerked my pants down was so fucking hot.
It wasn't nice with Sebastian. It was...nuclear intense.
He made me come like it was his only mission.
I remembered how hard and how thick his cock had felt behind his zipper, both when he'd pressed me up against the door the first time, and then again just before I'd escaped. He'd probably been fighting the hard-on the whole time, the poor guy.
He made me come without expecting anything in return.
I mean, obviously he wanted more. But when I'd freaked out, he'd backed off. He'd talked me down, fed me, comforted me. And then he'd gotten me all worked up and whispered those dirty, beautiful promises in my ear, and I'd run out on him again, leaving him with what had to be another aching erection.
And last night? He hadn't trusted himself not to touch me when I was wasted, so he'd left the bathroom rather than risk taking advantage of me. And I'd been completely naked and had toyed with him, taking off my panties in front of him, talking about his cock--
Which I'd been right about, as a matter of fact: the thing was huge.
I took a second to examine my surroundings. The cabin of the sailboat was tiny. Barely enough room for me to stand up in, and I was several inches shorter than Sebastian. But it was cozy. Blond wood accents, chrome, all-weather carpeting, a table with a booth for two, a galley, a door leading to a small bedroom, another leading to a bathroom. Not much, but it was warm and dry and comfortable.
Problem was, I felt terrible about running out on Sebastian.
He'd made me feel incredible, and then he'd handled my freakout with grace.
Goddammit.
I couldn't stay here in this little boat. I wanted to hide from him, wanted to pretend nothing had happened. I wanted to sit here in this cabin and nurse my aching heart.
God, it hurt.
Now that there was a little time between me and The Betrayal, as I thought of it, I realized Michael's infidelity and the way I'd discovered it was deeply, intensely painful. Way more so than I'd even estimated. It cut me deep, past the bone to the very essence of my soul. Eradicated everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I wanted in life. Undermined my ability to trust anyone, and that was already pretty well fucked by Mom's betrayal.
It hurt so bad.
Why, Michael? WHY?
There was no easy or obvious answer.
The onl
y thing that was obvious was how crazily I was attracted to Sebastian. Which made no sense, and I didn't know what to do about it, because I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anything, but my heart fucking hurt so goddamn bad I didn't dare trust myself with it, much less a guy I barely knew.
My libido had an opinion, obviously:
It doesn't have to involve my heart, just my pussy.
And my tits.
And my mouth.
And my hands.
And my ass.
And every inch of my flesh, which I was sure he'd kiss. Carefully, and thoroughly.
And fucking hell did I want that.
"You feel that? It can be inside you. Making you feel incredible. Making all the bullshit go away. You want it. It doesn't have to be complicated, Dru. It can be simple, and real, and good. As long as you want it." He'd actually said that to me, out loud. And it had nearly worked. Because I did want that. I wanted all the bullshit to go away. I wanted to forget everything, and I knew as surely as I knew my own name that Sebastian could make good on that promise. He could drown everything out.
If I let him.
But I shouldn't.
It would be reckless. I'd get invested. I'd want more from him. And even if he was capable of more, of putting real emotions on the line, I wasn't sure I was capable of that, not after what Michael had done. Plus, this was his home, not mine. I'd have to go back to Seattle at some point, right? My life was there. Dad was there.
Michael was there--but shit, that was an argument for the other column.
I was going in circles, and I knew it.
"I can make you feel good, Dru. You deserve to feel good."
"Let me erase it all."
I could let him erase it all. I could go back across the street and let Sebastian make me feel good for a while. And then, when I'd gotten enough, when I felt strong enough again to face Seattle and the prospect of starting all over without Michael...I'd go back. A few days, max.
Spend a few days fucking Sebastian, letting him make me feel good, and then I'd go back to Seattle.
Forget Michael.
Forget Tawny.
Forget the botched wedding and my maxed-out credit cards and the fact that I'd quit my job and that the lease on my apartment was up at the end of the month and I had nowhere to go.
But none of that mattered, did it? Not right now. I was in Ketchikan, Alaska, far from all that bullshit, and I had a sexy as hell man across the street who wanted me and who could give me a few days worth of the best orgasms of my life.
Fuck it, I thought.
I wasn't typically a "fuck it" kind of girl. I thought things through. I did the right thing. I paid attention to the details and formulated plans, and made decisions logically. My lease was ending and I was getting married, thus I hadn't lined up a new apartment because I'd be moving in with Michael. I'd been offered a couple of law clerk positions out of college, and had taken the one I liked best, which had turned out to be a mistake because they weren't intending to actually move me up or use me to the fullest of my abilities, so I put out some feelers and knew I'd be able to get a new position at a bigger, better firm. Thus, when my boss told me I couldn't take any time off for my honeymoon, I'd put in my two weeks notice. Michael made good money, I made good money, thus I had no problem maxing out my credit cards to pay for the wedding, especially since Dad wasn't really in a place to pay for it all, and god knew Michael's parents wouldn't.
But looking back, those had all been serious mistakes. Well, I mean, I could still get a job if I went back to Seattle. That much, at least, didn't depend on Michael and the wedding.
If?
No...that was crazy talk. Of course I was going back.
Just...not yet.
The cabin of the sailboat was nice and warm and cozy and dry, and most of all, private. I could chill here. Relax alone, no fucked-up situations to navigate.
I stripped off my clothes and laid them out to dry, went into the bedroom and climbed into the bed, pulled the covers up to my chin...and promptly fell asleep.
When I woke up again, my phone told me I'd slept four more hours, and I was still tired. So I unlocked my phone, pulled up the Kindle app, and read for a few hours, finishing one book and starting another. I read until my eyes dragged again, and then set my phone aside and let my eyes close, letting myself float back under the surface of consciousness. The next time I breached awareness, it was dark outside and the rain had stopped. My phone read just past ten at night, and I was wired. I dressed in my mostly dry clothes, remade the bed, left the boat and jogged across the street to Badd's.
The bar was middling busy, with every seat at the bar and most of the tables full, but it wasn't quite standing room only. Zane was behind the bar, and looked like he was holding his own, popping the top on a beer, then pouring a little too much vodka into a highball...he was no Sebastian behind the bar.
I angled up to the bar and got Zane's attention. "Where is he?"
Zane shrugged as he added tonic to the vodka, a wedge of lime, and a straw. "Not sure. Out back, maybe? Thought I saw him head out that way. He couldn't have gone far, because it's so busy. If it gets any busier around here, I'll have to fire myself."
"Thanks," I said, and wandered through the kitchen, to the back door, which was propped open by a big jug of frying oil.
I heard voices, one of them definitely Sebastian's. I peered through the opening and saw Sebastian leaning against a wall, hands in his hip pockets, a frown on his face. There was a woman facing him. Scantily clad would be an overstatement. Miniskirt so short it barely covered her ass and nothing but a bralette on up top. Five-inch heels, teased-out hair. And she had her hands all over Sebastian. He wasn't touching her back, but he wasn't stopping her either. They were in profile to me, so I could see everything.
"It was good between us, wasn't it, Sebastian?" Her voice was wheedling, trying to be seductive. "I made you feel good. You remember what I can do with my mouth, don't you?"
"Allie...god, stop. We're not doing this." He shifted, so he wasn't quite as close to her, pulling away subtly. "I'm not doing this. You should go."
She just laughed. "I'm not asking you to date me, I'm just...looking for a good time. That's what you're best at, right? A quick and easy good time? That's all I'm looking for."
"Allie, you're not hearin' me."
She sank to her knees, her hands going to his fly. "Oh come on, Sebastian. You know you want this. You know how good I can suck your cock, don't you? I can suck your cock and make it last for hours, Sebastian." She was stroking his length over his underwear, getting ready to take him out and blow him. "That feels good, doesn't it? You're so hard it aches. I can fix that for you, baby."
I felt betrayed. Stupid, but I couldn't un-feel it. He owed me nothing. He was nothing to me. But there it was, raw and real and undeniable, sitting like a ton of jagged-edge bricks on top of the already raw wound of Michael's betrayal. I couldn't handle this, too.
I turned to leave and my foot hit something that clattered; I heard Sebastian's voice shouting my name, but I wasn't about to stop and listen to him.
No point.
I ran pell-mell through the kitchen, back across the bar, ignoring Zane's curious expression.
Outside it was raining again, not a torrential downpour but a steady rain. Enough to soak me through in the few steps I made it out of the door before I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.
Not a smart move. I couldn't have helped my reaction even if I'd wanted to, and I didn't want to. I grabbed his wrist, pivoted to put my shoulder in his armpit and used my momentum and shorter stature to haul him over my body in a brutal throw. He landed on his back in the street, gasping and blinking up at me.
"Do not EVER put your hands on me like that, asshole. Not ever. Thought you'd have learned that already, but I guess not." I turned away from him and started walking down the street.
He was still gasping for breath, but managed to make it to his feet, haltingly, painfully. "W
ait--" He coughed, sucked in a deep breath, and tried again. "Dru, please. Please wait."
"Why? You've got your ex waiting for a redo. Why would you want me?" He stumbled around in front of me, put his hands up placatingly, but he didn't touch me. His jeans were still open and unzipped, I noticed.
"I didn't let that desperate slut touch me, Dru. I kicked her ass to the curb before I even knew you'd seen anything. The second she tried to put her hand on my cock I stopped her. I told her to leave, and I wasn't nice about it. She's not an ex, okay? She's just some chick I boned once and she was sniffing around, hoping for seconds."
"And that's supposed to reassure me?" I crossed my arms over my chest and shot a look at his fly.
He glanced down, realized he was still open, and zipped and buttoned his jeans. "No, I just--"
"Because that's all I'll be too, eventually, right? Some desperate bitch showing up hoping for a pity fuck from the almighty Sebastian?"
"That's not what I meant." He sounded a little irritated.
And I knew I wasn't being rational. He didn't owe me anything. I had no right to treat him this way. If he wanted to fuck someone else he could, and there was nothing I could say. If he wanted to let some chick blow him in the alley behind his bar, he had every right to that, and he owed me zero explanations.
And honestly, the fact that I felt like he did owe me that, that I wanted it from him...bothered me. I shouldn't want that.
At that moment, I saw Zane poke his head out the door of the bar. "Yo, Bast. Need your help, brother. Gettin' a little hairy in here."
Sebastian growled in frustration. "I gotta go. But please, don't leave. I didn't touch her, didn't let her touch me. She means nothing to me, Dru, and that's the truth whether you believe it or not. I don't normally go around explaining my shit to anyone, but for some reason the thought of letting you just leave without--I don't know. I don't know. I just know--"
"SEBASTIAN!" Zane's voice was powerful and irritated, now. "Got pissed-off customers, man. Let's go. This can happen later."
"Go, Sebastian," I said. "Your brother needs you."
He growled again. "Please don't leave. This ain't over, honey. Not by a long shot."
And then he was trotting back into the bar, and I was alone in the street, in the rain, completely clueless as to what I was even supposed to think or feel, much less what to do next. So I went back to the sailboat. Felt at odd ends, loose, adrift, with nothing to do.
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