Page 122 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8

He was so hard inside her, it hurt. It wouldn’t take long for his body to surrender to her, even if his mind didn’t want to. Not yet.

He wanted to see her take her pleasure. Own it all. This night she’d demanded, and he’d given to her. Given her his hands, his mouth, his body. His surrender to fate. To her.

And he’d give her this.

He thrust up again.

Her head fell back. Her throat elongated, and he wanted to bury his face in her neck. Feast on her skin.

‘Look at me,’ he demanded, because he needed her eyes on him. He would to remember them as she came apart with him inside her.

Her eyes locked onto his. And there was no pain inside them anymore. No confusion. Only want. Only him.

He guided her hips, moved her, until he slid to her entrance and back in. And he concentrated on her eyes, and not on the need to spill himself that was so close to consuming him.

‘I’m going to come!’ she said, and so was he. But he fought against it. Enraptured, he watched her pleasure mount.

Her mask slipped.

His heart hammered. He should reach for it. Fix it into place. But he couldn’t move. If he did, if he changed the angle of his body, he would come too soon.

The mask fell. His breath halted as she came into view. Her face of ebony lines hued in yellow gold. Her small rounded nose, her plum lips, her big brown eyes, wide, shadowed by long black lashes.

Her face was everything he knew it would be.

Hauntingly beautiful.

She clenched so hard around him. He couldn’t deny it anymore. His own release.

He growled. A roar so ferocious, his ears ached. He couldn’t spill himself inside her. The risk was too great for both of them. However, much his body demanded he stay where he was.

He lifted her. But the heat of her body, the tightness of it, ripped his release from him. He lifted her higher. Spilt himself away from her on the ground.

Their eyes met, and hers were full of wonder and pleasure.

‘I—’

‘Shush.’ He gathered her close, and she collapsed into his neck. Panting hard. As hard as he was.

He shrugged off his tux jacket and draped it over her shoulders. But his hands went inside to feel her.

He stroked her arched spine, and Sebastian let her softness wash over him. Let his body mould to hers. And oh, how delicate she was. How tenderly his arms held her, stroked her. Soothed her.

He closed his eyes. Pushed his nose into the escaped tendrils of hair resting at her nape.

And he drank her in.

She moved. Braced her hands on his shoulders and lifted her head.

‘Again,’ she husked, her breathing still erratic. She closed in on his mouth.

He gripped her face. Halted her. Smoothed the pads of his thumbs across her high sculpted cheekbones. Took in the warmth in her cheeks. Her swollen lips. Need overwhelmed him. To taste her again. To be with her again.

He pulled his mouth away. ‘No more,’ he said, but his body pulsed, seeking her out. He was still hard. Still wanting. It would be so easy to bury himself inside her again. His body was demanding it.

His lips twisted. Had he forgotten everything? He did not need. He should be sated. He should be anything but this.

He watched her eyes shutter. The wonder slip away.