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His other hand cups my face, his tongue stroking against mine as he devours my mouth, his cock hardening against me until he’s stiff as an iron rod against my thigh. He groans again, a tight, pained sound, gasping for breath as he pulls back and presses his forehead to mine.

“Christ, Estella. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Then show me,” I whisper. “Unless it hurts too much?—”

I bite my lip, remembering his injuries, but he shakes his head. A low, dark chuckle escapes his lips. “I figured out a couple of days ago I had all the function back, when I got hard and it wouldn’t go down until I took care of it.” His lips brush against my mouth again, as one hand drops to reach for mine. “I thought of you the whole time.”

My eyes widen, and I break the kiss. “You did? You did that, thinking of—me?”

Another low, dark chuckle rumbles from his throat. “Estella, I’ve thought of you every fucking time I’ve touched myself since the day you were staring at me while I got out of the pool. I used to try so fucking hard not to, thinking I’d cross a line if I did. And then I couldn’t help it, and, well?—”

He shifts my hand so that it’s pressed between us, right against the hard, thick line of his cock through his jeans. “I crossed the fucking line. And now I want to destroy every single one of them. This is what you do to me, Estella. Every fucking day.”

I gasp, feeling the hard line of him against my hand. He’s long and thick, so thick that I feel a moment’s hesitation, wondering how that’s possibly going to fit. I curl my fingers around the shape of him, pressing my palm a little tighter against that thick ridge, and Sebastian sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I don’t know how long I’m going to last the first time, princess. I want you so fucking bad?—”

He kisses me again, harder this time, hard enough that I taste that tang of blood again from the healing split on his lip.

“I want you to be mine,” he breathes against my lips. “But I’d never think that I own you. Not like?—”

I shake my head quickly. “Don’t say his name. Not here. Not tonight. Tonight—” I step back, disentangling myself from Sebastian just long enough to grab the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing and drag it up over my head, tossing it aside in a show of bravado that I’m not entirely sure I feel. “Tonight it’s just us.”

His jaw tightens as he looks at me, and I can see his throat visibly working as his gaze slides from my face down to my bare, full breasts, to the curve of my waist and the taut, flat expanse of my stomach, stopping at where the too-big sweatpants are hanging off of my hipbones. The thick ridge of his cock twitches against the front of his jeans, and I see his hands open and close into fists, every muscle in his body rigid.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over me again. “I’m afraid if I touch you, I’m going to devour you. I’m not going to be able to stop.”

I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper. I reach for the tie of my sweatpants, kicking off my shoes as I undo it and shove the pants down my hips, until I’m standing in nothing but the nude silk thong I wore under my dress tonight. “And now you’re overdressed.”

Sebastian licks his lips, staring at me as if he’s never seen anything like me before in his life. He reaches for the hem of his own T-shirt, slowly and then all at once, as if he’s come to a decision. He strips it off in one quick motion, his muscles flexing and rippling beneath the veneer of bruises.

I glance at the bandaged cuts, faltering. “What if—are you going to be okay?—”

Sebastian shoots me a dark, heated look as his hand goes to his belt. “I could be bleeding out on the floor, and I’d still find enough strength to fuck you if you wanted me to, little dove.”

Heat jolts through me, and I open my mouth to try to find a response, only to have every thought flee as he shoves his jeans and boxer briefs down his hips, stripping bare in front of me.

The moment his cock springs free, it slaps against his abdomen, jutting upwards thick and straight and leaving a dampness against the muscled flesh of his stomach. I stare at it, wide-eyed, taking a few steps forward to close the gap between us. I reach out gingerly, looking up at Sebastian with a nervous expression on my face.

“Can I—can I touch you?”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and I see his stomach muscles twitch, as if he’s holding himself back with some effort. “Estella, you can do any fucking thing you want to me.”

I swallow hard, moving a little closer as I reach out to touch him. Softly, I brush my fingers against the underside of his cock, staring at it. He looks mostly healed, although there’s bruised flesh and scarring still. He jerks when I touch him, a halting moan spilling from his lips, and I see a pearl of that liquid appear at his swollen tip.

Without thinking about it, I sink down onto my knees, flicking my tongue out to catch it.

“Oh, fuck!” Sebastian moans, grabbing the dresser behind him reflexively as his knees momentarily buckle. “Fuckinghell, Estella?—”

I jerk back, startled, and start to get up. “I’m sorry, I thought—I didn’t mean to do something wrong?—”

He stares at me like a man possessed. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he manages throatily. “I’ve been dreaming of your mouth on my cock for longer than you can imagine, princess. But you—” He clears his throat, and the next words sound as if he has to force them out. “You don’t have to do that.”

I lick my lips, tasting the saltiness lingering there. “I want to,” I whisper, reaching out to touch him again. I drag my fingers up the underside of his cock again, trailing my thumb over that damp spot on his tip, and Sebastian shudders.

“It’s been… a while,” he chokes out. “I haven’t wanted anyone but you, Estella. I couldn’t—” He swallows hard. “I haven’t—it’s been?—”

The words trail off when I wrap my hand around him, a little of that nervousness returning when I realize that it’s difficult for me to get my hand all the way around. He shudders, his stomach muscles flexing as I stroke him once, slowly, enjoying the sensation of him hot and hard against my palm before I sink down to my knees again, looking up at him as I brush my lips over the tip.