The Izzy and Seb Collection: The Evermore Series Books 1, 2 and 2.5

by Rachel De Lune

  “You want to know if I’ve done this before? Shown an exquisitely beautiful woman more? Held her hand and taught her there is more to her than being used by her husband for a quick lay? Taught her to listen to her body, to respond?” He hoists my arms above my head before he slides my dress up my leg with the force of his one free hand. “To respond to my touch, my voice, my command?”

  I can hear his frustration, the restraint in him slipping. But the raw power in his voice has my muscles clenching, anticipating his next move. Need overtakes my thoughts as he pins me in place. His hand creeps closer to the top of my thigh highs and edges farther to my knickers.

  “Isabel, you’re wearing thigh-highs for another man, and you’re asking me why I’m here with another woman? What did the weekend mean to you?”

  The thought that he would think this is for Phil spears my heart.

  “You’re angry at me? Well, I should be furious at you, Isabel.” With that, he drives two fingers into me, and I moan my response as my body bows to him. He’s hard and aggressive, but his actions are filled with a passion that speaks volumes. “You are wet for me, Isabel. You give yourself to me again and again, yet you are still here with him.” He shoves his fingers deeper, and with those words he finds that spot that makes my knees weak and my breath catch. “You’ve said time and time again that you can’t go back to how your life was before. I thought the weekend meant something as well, but you’re still here with him. You dressed like a temptress in red for him.” His thumb finds my clit and I fight for shallow pants of air.

  “Why are you with him, Isabel? Why do you still return to him? Answer me. Why are you here with him?” His educated hand works my clit. His fingers inside push my arousal higher.

  “Because…” I start, desperate to concentrate on the words and not the orgasm his busy fingers are about to rip from my body. “I’m scared. I don’t want to be a failure. I’m scared of the future and telling Phil I want a divorce. I didn’t think there was a way out. But with you, I feel there is. There’s a future… Please? I need to come.”

  “Come. For. Me. Isabel. For me.” His voice rings in my ear as his fingers thrust into me one last time. I clench around them as I come around his hand. My body shudders against him, but it’s not enough. I need to show him how he alone holds my heart and commands my body. My hands tangle in his hair and I pull him down to my lips.

  “Don’t stop, Seb. I need you inside me. I need you to hold me. I need to know I matter to you. Please…” I pant between kisses.

  “You can’t ask that of me. Especially now. Your husband is with you, and my friend is waiting for me.”

  My emotions are beyond saving at this point. I’m a complete mess. “Please, Seb… don’t walk away from me.”

  “Izzy, now is not the time.”

  “What was all of this about then, Sebastian? Proving that you can make me do whatever you want?” I bite out, regretting the words as soon as they pass my lips.

  “Isabel, don’t push me. I’m not going to fuck you here, even if you beg me. We’ll talk later.” He takes a step away from me and I miss him instantly. I pull my dress down and try to compose myself. Seb holds me in an icy stare, so different from his normal warmth. I’m hurt and confused. I feel as if I’m going to break into a thousand brittle pieces. I want to leave. I quickly turn and leave the room—and Seb—and head back to find Phil.

  “There you are. Where have you been?”

  “I’m going to get a taxi. I’m not well. I’m sorry.”

  “Fine. You’ve gotten out of it. I asked you to do one thing, Izzy. One thing!” he shouts at me, and it actually helps me fight the tears.

  I pick up my coat and rush to a waiting taxi. I give the driver my home address. Home? Is it really home? I live there, but it’s not where I want to be. Phil and I should have ended even before I met Seb. I need to make Phil see that we are truly over. Divorce. That’s the one thing I’ve not thrown at him. Maybe he’ll listen then. The icy look in Seb’s eyes haunts me and I hate the way I left. I need to explain to him that I didn’t want to be there with Phil. I have to tell him how I feel, that I love him even if he’s had enough of my cowardly behaviour. I lean forward and address the driver. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to go to a different address.”

  I’m at Seb’s door before I know it. I look around at his elegant furniture, the photographs on the wall, the table, the breakfast bar. Even with his explanation, I still hate those photographs and how they make me feel. Walking into his room, I crawl into his bed. My mind runs through the horrible accusations I threw at him. All I can do is hope that he doesn’t hate me, that he won’t send me away again and that he might love me.

  I hear the door open and close. I scurry from his room, not wanting to be caught somewhere I shouldn’t be. Stopping at the threshold to the lounge, I look up. He stands across the room, his eyes focused on me. I cannot read anything in his stern expression. His tie is loose around his neck, the top button of his shirt undone, and he looks as handsome as ever. His eyes are clear and hooded with lust. He takes four strides towards me. He crushes his lips to mine and I melt. The force of his kiss doesn’t stop. His weight forces me back and I go with him, back into his room. As he closes the door behind us, he spins me and presses me against the wood. His cock presses hard into my bum, and he encases my wrists in his hands and holds them tightly above my head.

  “Why am I not surprised you’re here? Why do you push me, Isabel?” He doesn’t let go of my hands as he growls the words. “You want this, don’t you, Isabel? What you begged me for earlier?” I can only groan in response. He moves my wrists so they are held in one hand and he peels my dress from my upper body. He doesn’t take it off, though. With his hand, he pulls the hem of my dress up so it leaves my bottom exposed. “This is what you want, Isabel. You want sex with me. You crave it, you need it, and you’re already dripping with want for me. Your body is crying out for it.” He runs a finger through my wet pussy before his fingers delve inside me.

  “Ahh”

  “Good girl.” He unzips his trousers.

  I mentally beg him to take me. I want him to show me that I’m his. I want him to dominate me. I forget everything else from this evening and relax under his hands. He pauses only to cover himself with a condom before taking me. He thrusts hard into me from behind with my hands still above my head, and I arch into it. He lets my arms go and holds my hips viciously as I steady myself against the door. His lips attack my neck, my shoulder, and my ear, biting and licking. There is no gentle. No cherishing. No holding my hand and guiding me. This is Seb taking me and showing me that I’m his, if not in every way, then in this way. He’s taking me exactly how I need, how I want. I can feel that I’m not going to last long. The intensity is too much. I want him too much.

  “Yes, please…”

  “Come, Izzy.” Hearing my name on his lips does it, again.

  “Mmm.” My eyes roll back in my head and my mouth opens as my body tenses and grips me in my climax. Heat floods through my veins. Seb pistons into me, hard and fast. He hilts himself once more before spilling into me as he reaches climax. The small movements of my hair blowing from his breath tickle my face as he remains close. He steps away quickly to sit on the bed. I’m left leaning against the door, slowly calming down.

  Seb holds his head in his hands. I go to him and kneel down.

  “What’s wrong?” I whisper to him.

  “Isabel… God, you make me question everything I promised myself. This shouldn’t have happened.” He stops for a moment, and I’m afraid of what he’ll say next. “I can’t… I can’t do this, Isabel. Izzy. I can’t. Not when you keep going back to him.” He looks up at me, his face a study in pain. “I told you I wouldn’t let you slip through my fingers again, but I also told you I don’t share. In the beginning, I was prepared to accept that you would leave at the end of the night, because I wanted to help you grow, to realize what you need sexually. But I can’t help you anymore. I can’t dea
l with you still being with your husband. I don’t want you if you keep going back to him. I deserve better. I deserve more.”

  My stomach sickens and my body shakes as the meaning of his words filters in.

  “You acted out of jealousy tonight? Well, think how I must feel. How I do feel. Fuck! I want your complete submission. To me. All of you.”

  “And I want to give it all to you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, yes of course I do. But I don’t know how you feel. About… us.” I try bravely to ask the question, to find out whether he feels the way I think he does about me. He pulls me up to sit on the bed with him before he walks away.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t!” I shout back at him. “I don’t know. You haven’t told me.”

  “Well, you haven’t either, Izzy. Hell, this started with you wanting to experience what your body has been craving, what you’ve always longed for. Someone to care for you and show you the way through your sexual submission. Well, I’ve shown you. I’ve shown you how good surrendering can be. I’ve shown you how submission can join two people beyond sex. That’s what I want. Now I want more.” I pause and hold my breath at the possibility of hearing what I’m longing to hear. But he doesn’t say it.

  “Seb…?”

  “I’m sorry, Izzy, but I can’t do this.”

  “No…” My mind panics. “I love you, Sebastian,” I blurt. He turns to face me.

  “I know you do, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me, but that doesn’t help. You still return to Phil. I think you should take some time and think about what you want, Izzy. Really think.” He looks at me, my dress half on, half off from his impatience to fuck me, to claim me. “I think you need to leave.”

  “No!” I scream, but it has little effect. The aquamarine of his gaze is tinged with pain and darkness rather than the bright blues and greens that normally shine back.

  He doesn’t say anything further, just leaves me and closes the door behind him.

  I’m crushed. My tears stream down my face. The rejection and guilt and myriad other emotions rage through me. This is so much worse than when I left him drunk a few weeks ago. I told him I loved him and it still isn’t enough. All my fears about what could happen have come to fruition, and it’s my fault.

  I won’t be going back to Phil. Seb’s right. I’m a coward and I’m selfish. I’ve done all of this to myself. What makes everything worse is that I never considered what this has been doing to Seb.

  I hoped that he would feel the same towards me, yet never considered how he felt about the situation. My feelings were all that mattered. I can’t expect Seb to love me until I’m worth loving.

  That starts with me being honest with myself and with Phil.

  Part II

  Forever More

  I sit on the bed I ought to share with my husband, in my room, in my house, but this isn’t my home. Even after ten years. A home is made up of more than a place to reside and a few belongings. A home is full of love, warmth and memories that bring a smile to your face, even when you feel lost or scared.

  It’s dark outside but it must be close to dawn. I’ve sat for hours, motionless, purposely blanking my mind. I can cope with sitting. I’m the first to overanalyse everything, to over-think and replay everything in a loop in my mind, but I can’t bear to replay the memories of what happened last night. It’s as if my mind begins to shut off when I edge closer, thinking about Seb’s words. “Izzy, I can’t deal with you still being with your husband. I don’t want you if you keep going back to him. I deserve better. I deserve more.”

  My body is on autopilot as I walk downstairs. I survey all of the rooms and belongings: the DVDs, the mismatch of tea cups lining a shelf in the kitchen. I look at it all, and I’m struck that these aren’t our things. They are my things—my random mix of bowls and plates, my pictures on the walls, my table in the living room, my cushions. I hadn’t seen it before, but this house in Bath isn’t our home. It’s my house that I’ve worked at turning into a home, but it’s neglected by Phil.

  I continue through the entire house. I can count Phil’s possessions on one hand. Only a pair of trainers in the hall and a few dirty shirts in the laundry show he’s still living here. It would be so easy to take everything of Phil’s and pack it up. How can I stay here, though? I don’t want to be here. This isn’t where my heart is. I want to be with Seb. I take a deep breath and fill my chest. My scream echoes around the empty rooms, filling the air with grief and sadness.

  My lungs drain of air and give voice to everything I’m afraid to admit to. My marriage to Phil is over. I’ve ruined my relationship with Seb. I’m scared. Three pivotal facts that are at the root of the emotions that have worn me down and made it hard to think straight. My world has changed over the last few months. My perspective has tilted—changed for the better—thanks to Seb. Finally speaking up for myself in my empty marriage was the starting point. Asking Phil for more than unsatisfactory vanilla sex only drove more distance between us. Having an innocent drink just to escape my empty house also led me to Seb. I never intended to meet a man who could give me everything I dreamt of—the love and attention I’d been starved of for years, the freedom to surrender and explore my sexuality and my darker fantasies, previously locked away in my online world. But I did meet him and he opened my eyes to just how miserable my life was before. I was a coward for not confronting Phil sooner. Now, I might have lost Seb because I wasn’t brave enough to face Phil, to demand that he listen to me instead of letting him walk all over me. I should have grabbed my chance at happiness with both hands.

  My husband doesn’t love me. I don’t love my husband. I love Seb. I want out of my marriage. Those four statements are my truth. They feel right. “My husband doesn’t love me. I don’t love my husband. I love Seb.” I say them aloud, claiming them, and it feels liberating. Something shifts within my soul and I’m not bound by my fear of what admitting that love will mean. I shouldn’t feel ashamed that my marriage is over. It’s not all my fault.

  I look around the hallway. A surge of adrenaline floods my system as my body catches up with my mind, and I head for my bedroom and look for a bag. My eyes land on the overnight carry-on, which wouldn’t even hold what I need for a weekend, let alone my entire wardrobe. I need a suitcase, or two. The spare room wardrobe is my next destination and I pull both cases down and drag them back to my room. I line up both suitcases and everything gets rammed in, underwear, jeans, jackets. I dump armfuls of clothes into the cases. I wedge it all in, unconcerned about neatness or creases. A few manic minutes later, I have emptied my drawers and wardrobe and have two cases bursting at the seams.

  I strip out of my dress, pull on the comfy pair of jeans and jumper I left out, and stuff my feet unto Uggs. I drag each case down the stairs and only pause to gather my essentials, bag, phone, computer bag and keys. Wasting no time, I squeeze the cases into my little Fiat and head to the only address I can imagine going to. Well, the only one that I’ll be welcome at.

  My hand is numb from banging so hard on her door. It’s 6:00 in the morning on a Saturday, so I know she’ll be in. I just left my husband. I lose a little of my composure but keep knocking. Jess isn’t a morning person, so I lift my hand to pound on the door again. Finally it swings open.

  “Who the hell…? What do you…? Izzy?” She looks shocked, stilling with the door half open. “Um, Izzy, what…?”

  “I need to stay here for a few-ish days. Will you have me?”

  “Wow, Isabel, you have suitcases. As in plural.” She smiles and opens the door for me. I dump my bags in the front room before turning around and going back out to pull my suitcases in from the porch.

  “Yes.” I brush past her, determined to get everything inside before having to explain myself. Admitting why I’m here to myself is one thing. Saying it aloud will bring it to life. She stands and watches me struggle with my first case. I pull it into the house and drop it at her feet. Seeing my best friend du
mbfounded for once, I go back for the other. I stack it next to her, pinning her in the tiny hall, and then head to the kitchen to put the kettle on for a cup of tea. I know Jess will need it, and so do I.

  I put the kettle on and make two cups before Jess ventures in to see what I’m up to. She still hasn’t said a lot, but I know Jess—it’s only a matter of time. She takes the proffered cup and sits opposite me at her kitchen table. I look at her, waiting for her to make the first move. She’s gearing up for it. It’s clear all over her face.

  “So, are you going to say anything?” I press.

  “Izzy, what time is it anyway?” She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here? To stay?” She’s shocked. Her voice has gone all squeaky, but she pauses for a sip of tea. Her hair is tied in a messy knot on top of her head, but she can’t contain the mass of blondeness working loose. “Well?” she says, as if it’s my cue.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t leave me in the dark.”

  “Well, I’ve not really worked anything out beyond getting here…” I trail off. “I left him. Phil. I just… I can’t stay with him. I can’t stay at the house. It’s not our home and hasn’t been for a long time. I finally saw it earlier tonight, um, last night, but I can’t throw him out.”

  She scowls at me. I hope Jess will understand, and that she doesn’t bring up the other man in my life. Or rather, the man who was in my life until I managed to mess everything up by being too weak to deal with my failed marriage.

  “Okay.” She sits forward in the chair. “What did Phil say? I can’t imagine he was especially happy.”

  “Well, he sort of doesn’t know. Not yet, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” Her face scrunches up in a confused frown.

  “He dragged me out last night and forced me to attend his stupid Christmas party. He promised we would talk everything out if I did. He scares me, Jess. Recently, his anger escalates in a way that makes me nervous. I went to the party, but I realised early on Phil only wanted me there to make Sophie, his ‘fling’, jealous. I ran into Seb there.”