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My eyes flick to his lips and up again.
Chapter 13
Lilian
In that moment, something snaps in both of us and our lips crash against each other with a desperate urgency. Maybe it’s the weight of our history, or maybe it’s the longing for something lost.
I throw my arms around Sebastian’s neck while he draws my hips against his. A needy sound escapes me, muffled by his mouth.
It’s bruising and consuming, a clash of teeth and tongue that leaves me dizzy. It’s like coming home and being set adrift all at once.
He groans, low and rough, the sound vibrating through me, and his fingers dig into my skin hard enough to leave marks. Good. I want him to mark me, to claim me as his. I tangle my hands in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer before it’s over.
He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along my jaw, down the column of my throat. I tip my head back, giving him better access.
He nips and sucks at my pulse point, no doubt leaving another mark. I’ll have to cover it later, but right now, I relish the slight sting. Proof that this is real, that he wants me as much as I want him.
“Lil,” he breathes against my skin, his voice rough with desire.
It ignites a fire in my veins, and I fist my hands in his hair, dragging his lips back to mine. Caught between the past and present, my heart and mind wage a war I can’t control.
“Sebastian,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m asking for. More, maybe. Or perhaps, for him to stop before we do something we can’t take back.
He pauses, pulling back far enough to meet my gaze. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. But there’s something else there too, a question. He’s giving me an out, a chance to put a stop to this before it goes too far.
I should take it. I should push him away, smooth my dress, and walk out that door with my head held high.
But I won’t. Not when every cell in my body is screaming for him, not when I’ve spent the last few years dreaming of this very moment.
So, instead, I brush my lips against his in a whisper of a kiss. “Don’t stop,” I breathe. “Please.”
His mouth is on mine again, hungry and demanding. I lose myself in the kiss, in the slide of his tongue against mine, the nip of his teeth against my bottom lip.
His right hand skims over my leg, dipping low to tease my core through the slip. I arch into his touch, silently begging for more, even as some distant part of my brain screams that this is a mistake.
A mistake I’ll gladly make, again and again, if it means having him like this.
“So wet for me, princess.” He growls. “You need more, don’t you?”
I nod. My pussy throbs with need, aching to be filled by him.
He unbuckles his trousers, freeing his hard cock, and then hoists up one of my legs, positioning himself at my entrance. The wall is cold against my back, in direct contrast to the heat of his body.
Achingly slow, he eases inside me, stretching me, and a broken moan escapes my lips. The sensation of him inside me after so long is almost too much to bear.
“Fuck, Lil,” he groans, his face buried in the crook of my neck. “You feel so good.”
I can only whimper in response, my nails digging into his shoulders. He starts to move, and each thrust sends sparks of pleasure through my body, stoking the fire building in my core.
It’s raw and primal, the way he takes me against the wall. There’s no tenderness, no gentle caresses. Only the brutal snap of his hips against mine, the harsh panting of our breaths mingling together.
And I love it. I love the way he takes control, consumes, and possesses me like he’s trying to brand himself onto my very soul.
I meet him thrust for thrust, desperate to finally be whole again after being shattered for so long. I hate how fan-fucking-tastic he feels, how much it hurts and makes me want more.
“I hate you,” I say.
“I know.” His lips find mine in a bruising kiss, swallowing my cries of pleasure. I can taste the whiskey on his tongue. It’s intoxicating, dizzying.