The Brightest Star

by B. Cranford

  Suddenly, something in Sebastian snapped. He couldn't hold back. He had to fuck her. He needed to.

  If she didn't feel the evidence of their reunion tomorrow, he reasoned, she could easily walk away. And this time, it would be him left behind.

  Not that he didn't deserve it. He just didn't want it.

  He ripped their mouths apart, his breath already coming thicker, faster. She moved her hands from his shoulders into his hair, taking two firm fistfuls and tugging, urging him on.

  Her green eyes burned him up, as he started rocking his hips with more force, more speed. The power behind each thrust was enough to push Brighton up the mattress bit by bit, until her head was at the very top of the bed, pressing against the headboard and making it shudder every time he pulled out of her body and slammed home.

  “Oh God, God,” she moaned, removing one hand from his scalp to brace against the headboard.

  “Sorry,” he murmured as he pulled all the way out of her body, groaning at the loss of her heat around him. Sitting up on his knees, Sebastian wrapped his rough hands around her hips and helped her flip over onto her stomach, making sure as he did to bring her back towards the center of the bed.

  When he said he wanted her to feel him tomorrow, he didn't mean as a pain in the neck, an annoyance. An unwelcome blast from the past. Maybe, he thought, a pain on the ass wouldn't be so bad, bringing one palm down to spank her peachy, perfect cheek.

  He chuckled darkly to himself at the ridiculousness of his thoughts, making Brighton raise up just a little so she could look at him over her shoulder. “What's so funny?”

  He soothed a hand over the already-forming handprint, his erection straining ever more at the sight of his red hand on her sweet ass. “Nothing, baby.”

  She smirked, aware that he was lying but happy to overlook it. “Dammit, Seb, can you get back inside me now?”

  He didn't need to be asked twice. He raised her hips while applying pressure to the back of her head, making sure it stayed on the mattress so just her pink, soaked pussy and marked ass were in the air.

  “Fucking hell, you're gorgeous.” He positioned himself at her entrance again, but this time he didn't plan to ease inside or start gentle. Instead, he tilted his hips quick fire, filling her in one swift movement.

  They gasped in unison, the moment bringing them into sync in more ways than one.

  Reaching around her body to finger her clit, Sebastian thrust back and forth, back and forth, his balls slapping against Brighton’s ass with every return motion, his heart racing so fast he couldn't feel the individual beats, just a whir inside his chest.

  “Brighton, Brighton, baby,” he crooned as he slammed home repeatedly, still playing her clit like a guitarist strums his favorite instrument. “Are you close?”

  The feeling of being inside her was indescribable. Each slide in was a tight, wet welcome back to heaven itself, and every slide out torture of the most exquisite kind.

  “Ye-yea-yes.” Her voice stuttered as her muscles began to show all the signs of her impending orgasm. They tightened around and underneath him, her breathing becoming shallow and fast, her head, still on the mattress he'd pressed it into shifting ever slightly as her eyes fluttered closed. “Sebastian.”

  At first, his name on her lips was but a whisper of sound but, as pleasure stole across her body, she began chanting it louder and louder until it drowned out the slapping sounds of their bodies coming together.

  The fluttering of her pussy as his cock kept slamming into her turned into a nearly unbearable tightness, bringing his balls up closer to his body. He wasn't ready for it to be over yet, though he tried to reason with himself that they had time.

  All the time in the world, now.

  Still, he forced his hips to pause as Brighton rode out the last of her explosive orgasm, her body quivering below him, her raised hips slowly lowering towards the bed.

  Her eyes were closed, her body still but her voice was strong when she said, “Don't stop, please don't stop.”

  He had no plans on stopping, though slowing down was necessary if he wanted to make her climax one more time. “Never, baby.” He bent his body over hers to kiss up and down her spine, quietly telling her he loved her, that she was perfect, that he never needed anything else but her.

  When he was sure he wasn't seconds away from coming, he drew his hips back, preparing to set a fast rhythm once more.

  But then she leveled him with a simple request. “Can I watch you? As you come?”

  If she wanted to see him, then he'd let her see him. He pulled out, planting his lips on the red handprint still shading her ass, and waited for her to roll over, making sure her legs were spread in welcome.

  “You're beautiful when you come,” was all she said by way of explanation, though he didn't need one to give her what she asked for.

  She could ask for the moon and he'd find a way to give it to her, no questions asked.

  He smiled down at her, back under him for the second time that night, and thought about how right this felt, to be here with her.

  She interrupted his loving thoughts with narrowed eyes and a second request. “Not slow this time,” she instructed with a raised eyebrow, clearly not waiting to revert to their earlier, reverent love-making. “Hard. Fast. Fuck me like you do from behind, but do it so I can see you come.”

  He didn't answer except by way of a brief nod, before finding her entrance with the tip of his cock and quickly pushing all the way in.

  Where he'd been only able to curse as she'd worked him over earlier with her mouth, she now could only repeat “yes” every time the tip of him hit against the spot inside her that made her shine.

  “Speechless, baby?” he asked, repeating her taunt in a breathless voice that spoke of the energy he was putting into pleasuring them both.

  She nodded fervently, her arms raising up to cup his face, and bringing him down for a long, sweet kiss; one that belied the hard fucking he was giving her. That she’d requested.

  “Again?” He wanted to know if she could give him a third glimpse of ecstasy as it lit her up from the inside out.

  Another vehement nod, another round of “yeses” falling from her lips.

  “Touch yourself,” he instructed, taking one of her hands from his cheek and bringing it down to the place where they were joined. He moved her finger to her clit, rubbing in concert with her to bring her orgasm to the surface.

  It didn't take long after that. She began to play with herself faster and faster, just as his hips snapped forward three, four, five more times, a forceful yell indicating that he could hold on no longer.

  “That, yes,” Brighton cried out, all her attention on him as his face tightened from the intensity of his orgasm. “Coming, I'm coming.” She gasped as pleasure washed over her for the third time in less than an hour.

  He felt her walls hugging him tightly as he emptied himself inside her, giving her every last drop as readily, as willingly, as he'd given her his heart.

  He balanced his weight on his elbows as he hovered above her, gently kissing her, keeping his eyes locked on hers, making sure she wasn't having regrets or second thoughts.

  “Wow.” He couldn't think of anything but how mind-blowing this day had been. The messages. The game. The apology.

  And now this.

  This perfect series of moments they shared, their bodies coming together as though they'd never spent a day apart, let alone two years.

  “Wow is right,” she agreed, before her face broke into a playful grin. “Who knew Justin Bieber was such a turn-on?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The warmth Sebastian felt when he woke the following morning was so familiar, yet so unexpected, he considered pinching himself to be sure it was real.

  That Brighton was really in his arms, her soft, sexy, sated body pressed against him, making his cock awaken before the rest of him had a chance to catch up.

  He was just pondering the merits of plucking one or two of his leg
hairs—in the interest of making sure this wasn't some elaborate dream concocted by his subconscious—when the naked woman he'd wrapped himself around began to stir.

  “Are you real?” Her morning voice was husky, thick with sleep and from the strain of calling his name again and again as he made up for all the time he'd been gone.

  “Was just wondering the same thing, Bright Star,” he murmured close to her ear, before nipping at the fleshy lobe, causing a shiver to wrack her body. “Sure seems like you are. But maybe I should pinch you,”—he took one of her nipples between his forefinger and thumb, giving it a gentle squeeze—“to make sure?”

  Brighton’s laugh was like music. He’d done that, made her happy enough to laugh, hot enough to come, relax enough to let go.

  How beautifully she let go.

  Sebastian’s mind began replaying their evening in vivid detail as his hands began exploring her body. He couldn't hold in his groan when Brighton began to rock her peachy ass against his ever hardening cock.

  “Goddamn.” He swore under his breath as he tried to rein in his runaway thoughts, currently on a one-way train to Dirty Town, USA. Population: one.

  Hopefully two, once he'd gotten Brighton good and worked up.

  “Oh-h.” Brighton’s breath started coming harder and faster, as Sebastian continued to toy with her tits, before sliding his hand down, down, down where he felt her center begin to dampen.

  “Mmm, still like it in the morning, Bright?” He chuckled as she moaned in affirmation, memories of her begging and pleading and needing him joining the slideshow of dirty images from the night before. “Did you dream about me, about last night?”

  Brighton's head bobbed up and down as she nodded vigorously in response.

  “Hmm, you want to share it with me? Maybe I could interpret it for you?” He strummed her clit, enjoying the way her hips moved almost involuntarily against him as he played her.

  This time, his girl shook her head, a blush slowly creeping up her cheeks.

  “That's a pity. Maybe I should share my dreams first?” He didn't wait for a reply before launching into a detailed description. “You were naked, riding me. Like last night but, mmm, this ass,”—he used his free hand to slap her cheeks, one then the other—“was facing me. I watched it bounce and sway as you owned my cock, Brighton. You owned it.”

  Brighton gasped, and Sebastian took the opportunity to slip his fingers to her entrance, leaving her clit swollen and needy, before entering her in one hard, swift movement.

  Her inner walls clamped down on his fingers as her head tilted back, her spine stretching, arching as an orgasm stole over her.

  “Fuck,” he groaned into her hair, burying his face in the dark strands, drawing in deep breaths as he tried to gather his shattered control.

  Brighton had woken up a little dazed, a little sore and a lot horny. She'd slept well in Sebastian’s arms, the safety they offered her apparently allowing her mind to re-create their evening in delicious detail—even adding in some extra that they hadn't had a chance to explore.

  And then, he'd started touching her, teasing her, making her lungs work double, no, triple time to get enough oxygen to remain conscious.

  Because she categorically did not want to be unconscious for any of Sebastian’s ministrations.

  “Oh God.” Before she truly knew what was happening, her body began to shake with unending pleasure. Sebastian had wasted no time in working her to climax, and damn if she was going to let him suffer. She could feel his unyielding hardness pressed against her bottom, a hardness she'd teased out of him with a roll of her hips and some heavy breathing and moaning courtesy of the man who was now flipping her over so they were both on their sides, facing one another, and taking control of her mouth.

  Their kiss was a mating, of that there was no doubt. Their tongues licked and stroked, their breaths mingling in warmth. Brighton couldn't remember the last time she'd been kissed like this. Except . . .

  Yes, she did.

  “Brighton?” Sebastian's voice was loud enough to be heard, but distant, as though he was calling her from outside. Brighton followed it, until she found herself on the back porch of Mr. and Dr. Figures’ home.

  “You rang?” Brighton had deepened her tone, going for a creepy Addams Family vibe and ending up with a laughingly bad impression instead.

  “I missed you,” was his only response as he shrugged in a what can you do? manner. It made her smile to think that after three years and several stressful months of saving for, searching for and, finally, securing their dream home, her man still just enjoyed being near her.

  “Are you okay?” Her question sounded tired, and she knew it was because she'd asked or been asked the same question a lot of late. “You look tired.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I'm fine, good.” It was the same response he always gave but what could she do?

  He wouldn't lie to her, and she had no reason to think it was anything other than general fatigue. After all, she herself felt more and more exhausted each day.

  Sebastian stepped forward and Brighton matched his movement until they were wrapped around one another, oblivious to his parents, who could surely see them on the porch through the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated the back of their magnificent home.

  “I missed you, too.” It was said with a knowing smirk because the fact was, it had been no more than twenty minutes since they'd last seen one another, and only about four hours since he'd been inside her, making her body flame.

  “I, ah, have to head out for a bit. I'll meet you at home?” He drew back from their embrace, a slight frown marring his otherwise handsome face, making his usually smiling dimples disappear.

  “Yeah, no prob. Are you sure you're okay?” No harm in asking again, making certain that this man she loved was all right.

  “Everything's fine.” He leaned down and captured her lips with his, a possessive, almost desperate kiss that Brighton would swear she could feel in every nerve-ending on her now-electrified body.

  How does he always make me feel this way?

  Their kiss lasted minutes, no thought given to the parents inside the house or whatever Sebastian had planned that would take him away from her that afternoon.

  That kiss, it turned out, was the last one they’d shared. He’d come home, the phone had rung, and then . . . She thought about what he’d told her about that phone call, about where he’d gone afterwards. And looking back on it now, with that new knowledge, she could see the strain of his addiction on his face.

  She couldn't just lie there, kissing him while her mind escaped into the minefield of what ifs and if onlys. She needed to remember how far they'd come, even since he'd knocked on her door the day before, and enjoy it.

  “Are you okay?” Sebastian’s question broke through her thoughts, but their eerie echoing of her trip down memory lane made her slide a little further back on the bed—still facing Sebastian, but no longer caught up in his kiss, his charm, his Sebastian-ness.

  “Yeah, I—” She took a steadying breath before continuing. “I was just thinking about this. Us.” Her smile was a little wobbly, like she was sure she'd just scared him off but, instead, understanding bled into the blue of his eyes as he brought a palm up to cup her cheek.

  “What about us?” His voice was relaxed, giving nothing away. If he was scared by her journey into the past, he didn't show it.

  Brighton bit at her lower lip, pulling it between her teeth before answering. “About the last time we kissed. I mean, before . . .” She trailed off, wondering if the memory was as real, as vivid to him as it was to her. “I was wondering if I—if I'd asked you again if you were okay, or insisted on going with you, or—” She shrugged with one shoulder, the sheets of her bed rustling with the movement. “I don't know. Done something. If it would have changed anything.”

  Sebastian hated the hesitance he heard and saw in Brighton as she questioned their last kiss, and her perceived failure to care for him.

&n
bsp; It wasn't her burden to bear, as he'd tried to tell her last night when she'd insisted on apologizing.

  He shook his head and rose to a sitting position, waiting for her to do the same, so he could look her in the eye as he said his piece. “I’ll tell you as many times as I need to, there is nothing you could have done. I was already in too deep by then, and even if . . .” He paused to reach out to her and grab hold of her hand. The need to touch her, to anchor himself in her was overwhelming. “Even if you'd pushed, it would have ended up the same. You weren't the problem. You were never the problem.”

  A small tear formed in one of Brighton’s eyes and Sebastian raised their joined hands to catch it as it slipped from her lashes and began its journey down her flushed cheek.

  He took a steadying breath, tears of his own closer to the surface than they'd ever been. “You apologized and I let you because you needed it, but you have to know this wasn't on you. It was on me. I own it. I regret it. I'm trying to atone for it.”

  “You have,” she whispered, steeling her shoulders and applying pressure to their joined hands so she could scoot closer to him. Her bare ass slid against the soft sheets, a surprisingly sensual sensation given the intensity of their discussion.

  “And so have you. For whatever you think you did wrong. It's done. It's forgiven. And now—” Brighton cut him off with a light kiss on his lips, before releasing his hand only to capture his face between both of her hands.

  He closed his eyes against the weight of her touch, the depth of his feeling. It was her words that brought them open again, emerald eyes shining as she gave him his redemption. “So are you.”

  He nodded, wishing he could find the perfect words to tell her how much it meant to him that she wasn't giving up on them. That she was willing to try again, even though he'd walked away without a word. “And now,”—he braced his hands over hers where they held his jaw, his cheeks—“we can focus on what's to come in the future.”