The Naughty Boxset

by Jasinda Wilder

  And last night? He hadn’t trusted himself not to touch me when I was wasted, so he’d left the bathroom rather than risk taking advantage of me. And I’d been completely naked and had toyed with him, taking off my panties in front of him, talking about his cock—

  Which I’d been right about, as a matter of fact: the thing was huge.

  I took a second to examine my surroundings. The cabin of the sailboat was tiny. Barely enough room for me to stand up in, and I was several inches shorter than Sebastian. But it was cozy. Blond wood accents, chrome, all-weather carpeting, a table with a booth for two, a galley, a door leading to a small bedroom, another leading to a bathroom. Not much, but it was warm and dry and comfortable.

  Problem was, I felt terrible about running out on Sebastian.

  He’d made me feel incredible, and then he’d handled my freakout with grace.

  Goddammit.

  I couldn’t stay here in this little boat. I wanted to hide from him, wanted to pretend nothing had happened. I wanted to sit here in this cabin and nurse my aching heart.

  God, it hurt.

  Now that there was a little time between me and The Betrayal, as I thought of it, I realized Michael’s infidelity and the way I’d discovered it was deeply, intensely painful. Way more so than I’d even estimated. It cut me deep, past the bone to the very essence of my soul. Eradicated everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I wanted in life. Undermined my ability to trust anyone, and that was already pretty well fucked by Mom’s betrayal.

  It hurt so bad.

  Why, Michael? WHY?

  There was no easy or obvious answer.

  The only thing that was obvious was how crazily I was attracted to Sebastian. Which made no sense, and I didn’t know what to do about it, because I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything, but my heart fucking hurt so goddamn bad I didn’t dare trust myself with it, much less a guy I barely knew.

  My libido had an opinion, obviously:

  It doesn’t have to involve my heart, just my pussy.

  And my tits.

  And my mouth.

  And my hands.

  And my ass.

  And every inch of my flesh, which I was sure he’d kiss. Carefully, and thoroughly.

  And fucking hell did I want that.

  “You feel that? It can be inside you. Making you feel incredible. Making all the bullshit go away. You want it. It doesn’t have to be complicated, Dru. It can be simple, and real, and good. As long as you want it.” He’d actually said that to me, out loud. And it had nearly worked. Because I did want that. I wanted all the bullshit to go away. I wanted to forget everything, and I knew as surely as I knew my own name that Sebastian could make good on that promise. He could drown everything out.

  If I let him.

  But I shouldn’t.

  It would be reckless. I’d get invested. I’d want more from him. And even if he was capable of more, of putting real emotions on the line, I wasn’t sure I was capable of that, not after what Michael had done. Plus, this was his home, not mine. I’d have to go back to Seattle at some point, right? My life was there. Dad was there.

  Michael was there—but shit, that was an argument for the other column.

  I was going in circles, and I knew it.

  “I can make you feel good, Dru. You deserve to feel good.”

  “Let me erase it all.”

  I could let him erase it all. I could go back across the street and let Sebastian make me feel good for a while. And then, when I’d gotten enough, when I felt strong enough again to face Seattle and the prospect of starting all over without Michael…I’d go back. A few days, max.

  Spend a few days fucking Sebastian, letting him make me feel good, and then I’d go back to Seattle.

  Forget Michael.

  Forget Tawny.

  Forget the botched wedding and my maxed-out credit cards and the fact that I’d quit my job and that the lease on my apartment was up at the end of the month and I had nowhere to go.

  But none of that mattered, did it? Not right now. I was in Ketchikan, Alaska, far from all that bullshit, and I had a sexy as hell man across the street who wanted me and who could give me a few days worth of the best orgasms of my life.

  Fuck it, I thought.

  I wasn’t typically a “fuck it” kind of girl. I thought things through. I did the right thing. I paid attention to the details and formulated plans, and made decisions logically. My lease was ending and I was getting married, thus I hadn’t lined up a new apartment because I’d be moving in with Michael. I’d been offered a couple of law clerk positions out of college, and had taken the one I liked best, which had turned out to be a mistake because they weren’t intending to actually move me up or use me to the fullest of my abilities, so I put out some feelers and knew I’d be able to get a new position at a bigger, better firm. Thus, when my boss told me I couldn’t take any time off for my honeymoon, I’d put in my two weeks notice. Michael made good money, I made good money, thus I had no problem maxing out my credit cards to pay for the wedding, especially since Dad wasn’t really in a place to pay for it all, and god knew Michael’s parents wouldn’t.

  But looking back, those had all been serious mistakes. Well, I mean, I could still get a job if I went back to Seattle. That much, at least, didn’t depend on Michael and the wedding.

  If?

  No…that was crazy talk. Of course I was going back.

  Just…not yet.

  The cabin of the sailboat was nice and warm and cozy and dry, and most of all, private. I could chill here. Relax alone, no fucked-up situations to navigate.

  I stripped off my clothes and laid them out to dry, went into the bedroom and climbed into the bed, pulled the covers up to my chin…and promptly fell asleep.

  When I woke up again, my phone told me I’d slept four more hours, and I was still tired. So I unlocked my phone, pulled up the Kindle app, and read for a few hours, finishing one book and starting another. I read until my eyes dragged again, and then set my phone aside and let my eyes close, letting myself float back under the surface of consciousness. The next time I breached awareness, it was dark outside and the rain had stopped. My phone read just past ten at night, and I was wired. I dressed in my mostly dry clothes, remade the bed, left the boat and jogged across the street to Badd’s.

  The bar was middling busy, with every seat at the bar and most of the tables full, but it wasn’t quite standing room only. Zane was behind the bar, and looked like he was holding his own, popping the top on a beer, then pouring a little too much vodka into a highball…he was no Sebastian behind the bar.

  I angled up to the bar and got Zane’s attention. “Where is he?”

  Zane shrugged as he added tonic to the vodka, a wedge of lime, and a straw. “Not sure. Out back, maybe? Thought I saw him head out that way. He couldn’t have gone far, because it’s so busy. If it gets any busier around here, I’ll have to fire myself.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and wandered through the kitchen, to the back door, which was propped open by a big jug of frying oil.

  I heard voices, one of them definitely Sebastian’s. I peered through the opening and saw Sebastian leaning against a wall, hands in his hip pockets, a frown on his face. There was a woman facing him. Scantily clad would be an overstatement. Miniskirt so short it barely covered her ass and nothing but a bralette on up top. Five-inch heels, teased-out hair. And she had her hands all over Sebastian. He wasn’t touching her back, but he wasn’t stopping her either. They were in profile to me, so I could see everything.

  “It was good between us, wasn’t it, Sebastian?” Her voice was wheedling, trying to be seductive. “I made you feel good. You remember what I can do with my mouth, don’t you?”

  “Allie…god, stop. We’re not doing this.” He shifted, so he wasn’t quite as close to her, pulling away subtly. “I’m not doing this. You should go.”

  She just laughed. “I’m not asking you to date me, I’m just…looking for a good time
. That’s what you’re best at, right? A quick and easy good time? That’s all I’m looking for.”

  “Allie, you’re not hearin’ me.”

  She sank to her knees, her hands going to his fly. “Oh come on, Sebastian. You know you want this. You know how good I can suck your cock, don’t you? I can suck your cock and make it last for hours, Sebastian.” She was stroking his length over his underwear, getting ready to take him out and blow him. “That feels good, doesn’t it? You’re so hard it aches. I can fix that for you, baby.”

  I felt betrayed. Stupid, but I couldn’t un-feel it. He owed me nothing. He was nothing to me. But there it was, raw and real and undeniable, sitting like a ton of jagged-edge bricks on top of the already raw wound of Michael’s betrayal. I couldn’t handle this, too.

  I turned to leave and my foot hit something that clattered; I heard Sebastian’s voice shouting my name, but I wasn’t about to stop and listen to him.

  No point.

  I ran pell-mell through the kitchen, back across the bar, ignoring Zane’s curious expression.

  Outside it was raining again, not a torrential downpour but a steady rain. Enough to soak me through in the few steps I made it out of the door before I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.

  Not a smart move. I couldn’t have helped my reaction even if I’d wanted to, and I didn’t want to. I grabbed his wrist, pivoted to put my shoulder in his armpit and used my momentum and shorter stature to haul him over my body in a brutal throw. He landed on his back in the street, gasping and blinking up at me.

  “Do not EVER put your hands on me like that, asshole. Not ever. Thought you’d have learned that already, but I guess not.” I turned away from him and started walking down the street.

  He was still gasping for breath, but managed to make it to his feet, haltingly, painfully. “Wait—” He coughed, sucked in a deep breath, and tried again. “Dru, please. Please wait.”

  “Why? You’ve got your ex waiting for a redo. Why would you want me?” He stumbled around in front of me, put his hands up placatingly, but he didn’t touch me. His jeans were still open and unzipped, I noticed.

  “I didn’t let that desperate slut touch me, Dru. I kicked her ass to the curb before I even knew you’d seen anything. The second she tried to put her hand on my cock I stopped her. I told her to leave, and I wasn’t nice about it. She’s not an ex, okay? She’s just some chick I boned once and she was sniffing around, hoping for seconds.”

  “And that’s supposed to reassure me?” I crossed my arms over my chest and shot a look at his fly.

  He glanced down, realized he was still open, and zipped and buttoned his jeans. “No, I just—”

  “Because that’s all I’ll be too, eventually, right? Some desperate bitch showing up hoping for a pity fuck from the almighty Sebastian?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He sounded a little irritated.

  And I knew I wasn’t being rational. He didn’t owe me anything. I had no right to treat him this way. If he wanted to fuck someone else he could, and there was nothing I could say. If he wanted to let some chick blow him in the alley behind his bar, he had every right to that, and he owed me zero explanations.

  And honestly, the fact that I felt like he did owe me that, that I wanted it from him…bothered me. I shouldn’t want that.

  At that moment, I saw Zane poke his head out the door of the bar. “Yo, Bast. Need your help, brother. Gettin’ a little hairy in here.”

  Sebastian growled in frustration. “I gotta go. But please, don’t leave. I didn’t touch her, didn’t let her touch me. She means nothing to me, Dru, and that’s the truth whether you believe it or not. I don’t normally go around explaining my shit to anyone, but for some reason the thought of letting you just leave without—I don’t know. I don’t know. I just know—”

  “SEBASTIAN!” Zane’s voice was powerful and irritated, now. “Got pissed-off customers, man. Let’s go. This can happen later.”

  “Go, Sebastian,” I said. “Your brother needs you.”

  He growled again. “Please don’t leave. This ain’t over, honey. Not by a long shot.”

  And then he was trotting back into the bar, and I was alone in the street, in the rain, completely clueless as to what I was even supposed to think or feel, much less what to do next. So I went back to the sailboat. Felt at odd ends, loose, adrift, with nothing to do.

  I didn’t want to leave. I wanted more with Sebastian. I wanted him, full stop. It was foolish, probably. I’d only end up being hurt worse than ever, left to crawl back to Daddy in Seattle and try to rebuild the shattered ruins of my fucked-up life. Staying was a risk. And for what? A few minutes of feeling good in Sebastian Badd’s strong arms?

  Fuck yes. Exactly for that. Because those few minutes promised to be…shit, better than anything I’d ever experienced. I just knew that’s what it would be. Life-changing, earth-shattering sex. And goddammit, but I wanted that. I wanted it bad.

  But was I really willing to risk getting all attached to Sebastian because of how good the fucking was, only to have him send me packing once he’d had his fill of me? Because if what I’d had with Michael hadn’t been good enough for him to stay faithful, then what were the chances a man like Sebastian would find me satisfying? I mean, he was a god. Beyond gorgeous, tough, rough, dominant, skilled at sex, ran his own bar, had women so desperate for a second round with his cock that they were willing to do anything to get it, even blow him in the alley just for a chance to have more with him. And here was me, who couldn’t even get a boring regular old Joe like Michael to remain faithful.

  Yeah, good luck. But something inside me insisted I give him a shot. Because it would be that good. It would be worth the risk.

  I tried to put it out of my mind for a while.

  I read, scrolled through social media on my phone, checked the news apps, read some more. Managed to crash again, even though I’d slept most of the day already.

  I woke up with dim gray light filtering in though the windows. My phone was dead, so I had no idea what time it was, but my guess would have been around seven or eight in the morning.

  And my first thought was Sebastian.

  I wanted him. I knew it was likely to end badly, but some crazy, impulsive drive inside me was telling me to go for it. That I couldn’t let Michael wreck my life, or force me to put up even higher walls than I already had. I couldn’t let Michael’s betrayal turn me into a coward, into someone too scared to go after what she wanted. And I wanted Sebastian. I had no clue what it would look like, how it would go, how it would end, or if my heart would survive the experience, but I was willing to take a chance. I had to.

  Fuck it.

  I shoved open the door of the cabin, ducked out, slammed the door behind me, and jogged through the downpour back across the street. I opened the door to the bar, but found it empty. The lights were all off, and the door to the stairs leading up to the apartment was open, so I figured he must be up there, probably sleeping since it was still early morning.

  I found Zane crashed on the couch looking sleepy but watching the news on TV. He blinked at me, and then jerked a thumb at the hallway. “His room’s the one at the very end.”

  Sebastian’s door was closed but not latched, so I went in. He had a king size bed with a simple metal railing headboard and footboard, with messy flannel sheets and a thick fleece blanket. A dresser with six drawers, one of them open, a T-shirt hanging half out, a dish on top containing a handful of change, a Leatherman multitool, and an old silver watch. Underwear on the floor, a pair of jeans. An old, battered Taylor acoustic guitar in the corner sitting on the wide bottom, a pick in the strings on the neck. A pair of Timberland boots, well worn. A wool pea coat hanging off the open door of the closet, looking like it had been hanging there on the open door since the end of last winter. Nothing on the walls, no alarm clock, no phone cord or radio or anything, nothing electronic at all, as a matter of fact. The only things on the nightstand table next to the bed were a litre b
ottle of water and a small framed black and white photo of a woman, who I assumed was his mother, standing next to a man who I assumed was his father.

  No Sebastian, though.

  The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and I peeked in, got a glimpse in the mirror of Sebastian standing facing the toilet.

  Legs spread wide apart, head ducked, shoulders heaving. Jeans tugged down around his thighs to bare a taut, muscular ass with a dusting of dark hair. One of his hands was braced on the wall in front of his face, his arm straightened to hold up his weight, and the other was in front of his body. He was rigid, his ass flexed forward. His arm was moving back and forth slowly.

  “Fuck…” he groaned, his voice low and snarling.

  And unexpected. I jumped when he growled that curse word, caught spying on him. Watching him masturbate.

  “Dru…fuck—” he rumbled.

  He was jerking off thinking about me? My heart hammered, my gut twisted, my hands shook, and my core heated.

  I couldn’t look away. Absolutely could not.

  I moved slightly, adjusting my angle so now instead of seeing just his back, I could see more of his profile in the mirror. His fist sliding up and down his huge, hard length. And I do mean huge and hard.

  I watched as he stroked himself, and felt heat billow through me, felt wetness seep into my panties. He didn’t hurry, just stroked himself slowly and leisurely, taking his time. After a couple minutes of slow stroking, his hips started to flex back and forth, and his breath started to huff past gritted teeth, and his fist started to move a little faster.

  He hadn’t seen me; his eyes were shut tight, his jaw clenched as his fist flew faster and faster.

  And then he stopped. His eyes flicked open, and he reached out, pumped a handful of lotion into his palm, smeared it on his cock, and began stroking again, starting slowly and working quickly back up to speed.

  “Dru…god, Dru…”

  My heart hammered every time he said my name, and my core dripped desire at the sight of his big hand sliding up and down his huge, hard cock. I pictured my own hand on him, stroking him…I’d need both hands, and could probably only fit a little bit into my mouth.