by Kristy Marie
“Where exactly?”
Yeah, he’s definitely just as nervous as I am. This is uncharted territory. We might have been friends before this competition, but we’ve never been this close to one another. I can feel his breath at my center and his hand, still on my hip, is trembling.
This will not turn out well.
“My,” I swallow, “—inner thigh.”
Yeah, he winced, but I’m not mad. I understand. If our roles were reversed, I would act the same way.
He takes a deep breath and nods like a good little Boy Scout and lets his fingers slide over my hip bone, cresting toward the middle until they stop, reaching the split of my legs. I highly doubt the yellow jacket is still lurking on my skin or in my panties or shorts, but I feel like now is not the time to add that little tidbit and distract Sebastian.
Sure, I said this would probably end badly, and I still stand by that bet, but I’ve never been known to make good decisions when it comes to Sebastian. I’ve always just let rationality fall to the wayside and indulged my spontaneous and wild side when it came to him.
This evening is no different.
The pad of Sebastian’s finger is soft and warm as it slides over my skin and hesitates before he looks up at me and swallows.
Oh yeah, I’m not the only one who thinks this is an epically terrible idea.
I nod, giving my consent to this shitstorm, when Sebastian eases my thighs apart, his gaze heating me to a boil. I can feel my knees trying to kneel on the grass for support, but I don’t give in. That would be ridiculous and send the wrong sign that Bash-hole’s touch made me weak and jelly-like.
And that’s totally the truth, but I’m not ready to admit it.
Sebastian clears his throat. “Put your foot on my shoulder.”
Come again?
He must pick up on my sheer panic because he clarifies. “The inside of your thigh is welted up. I need to see where the actual sting is.”
My eyes feel as big as saucers. “You’re not planning to pee on me or anything, are you?”
Sebastian rolls his eyes. “That’s jellyfish stings and, last I checked, we weren’t oceanside.”
I knew that. I did, but I panicked.
“I think you put tobacco on wasp stings and such but since I’m fresh out—” He cocks a brow that does something tingly throughout my entire body. “I think I’ll just check and make sure the stinger isn’t still there.”
“Can that happen? I mean, do the stingers just break off and stay lodged into skin and keep stinging?”
It does kind of feel like I’m repeatedly getting stung.
“I think it does with some insects, but I don’t think it’s true for yellow jackets, but since you can’t distinguish a jellyfish from a bug, I’ll check to make sure. For all I know, it could have been a bee.”
He’s so funny.
Not.
“It wasn’t a bee,” I say, my voice flat and annoyed. “I’m positive it was a yellow jacket.”
He shrugs like he still doesn’t believe me. It pisses me off to the point I just hike my leg up and onto his shoulder for proof. “Go ahead. See that I know what the hell a yellow jacket looks like.”
It was a really stupid move.
Want to know how I know?
The breeze.
The angle.
My center directly in his face.
His grip on my thigh.
Something happens. I don’t know what it is, but someone, who I had no idea existed within me, whispers, “Do it.”
University CamFlix Competition Submission
Entry Number: 75
Sebastian and Valentina
Second Interview Continued, also known as phase two of torture
“Sebastian, can you expand on what you mean by Valentina always keeping things interesting? What has surprised you about her?”
Tom is relentless in this interview. I know Sebastian won’t tell the truth because that would expose the lies about our story and that’s the last thing we would want to do right now while we’re in the lead.
Sebastian fidgets next to me, but then he takes a deep breath and settles before he says, “I thought I knew who Valentina was just from our prank wars but the more we hung out, the more I got to know her.”
Tom butts in. “And getting to know her proved you were wrong about who she was as a person?”
Sebastian looks me in the eyes. “Yeah. She was so much more than I thought.”
Sebastian stares, his body coiled tighter than the time my mom braided my hair so tight my eyes went squinty.
“Sebastian?”
“Shut up,” he clips, his fingers flexing against me.
Ugh. I try and move my leg down. Clearly he’s uncomfortable. Maybe I misread his body language. Maybe he’s just trying to be a good friend and make sure I don’t die from an adverse reaction. It’s possible all this tension is not because he’s as turned on as I am.
“Be still,” he barks. “I just need a minute.”
I sigh. “I’m fine.” I try to move my leg from his shoulder, and he grips it, holding it still.
“I said, I need a minute.”
I feel my eyes go squinty. “I heard you.” I try pulling away, but his hold is stronger than my pull. “But I’m fine. I’ll just go shower and see if we have any cream in the medicine cabinet. I’m sure it’s gone.”
Honestly, I could call Aunt Anniston, Aspen’s mom. She’s a doctor and could easily tell me what to do. Sebastian and I don’t have to pretend to truly care about each other.
“Shut up.”
Oh hell no. “Why are you growling at me? I told you when we set this blanket down that yellow jackets were buzzing around. If anyone should be getting pissed off, it should be me. I told you I was going to get—”
Warmth.
Weakness.
That’s all I can think when a million tingles shoot through my core as his mouth closes over the center of my panties, right over my clit. My hands tangle in his hair, and I fold over his body, groaning.
His fingers take advantage of my lack of verbal skills and slip under the edge of my panties.
I think we can all agree that we’re no longer looking for a stinger or a yellow jacket. We have just crossed over to giving into something primal, something we’ve—well, at least I have—wanted to do for so long.
“Sebas—”
“Don’t speak,” he says, his words muffled against the fabric of my underwear. “Don’t ruin this by speaking.”
I should be offended, but I’m not. Instead, another moan rips from me, and I give the thick locks of blonde hair in my hands an aggressive tug. Why his asshole personality speaks to me, I will never know…
The warmth of his breath as he presses a kiss to the inside of my leg, as if he’s kissing my boo boo before going back to his real mission of making me a mess underneath his hands, is sweet and caring.
And then he shifts, moving my leg off his shoulder.
“What—” His finger goes to my lips.
“No talking, remember?”
I nod, moving his finger with the motion as he bends and puts his arms around my backside and hoists me up and over his shoulder, fireman style.
I yip, and then remember the diva requires pure silence while we make bad decisions, and hush. With more athleticism than I gave him credit for, Sebastian navigates the back deck’s steps easily and even manages the door, without so much as jostling me.
The cool air from the house is what I notice first. The second thing I notice is Sebastian bypassing the living room and carrying me down the hall like I’m some value-sized bag of dog food.
Finally, he stops at the bathroom door, hesitating.
“What are we doing?”
For a minute I think he isn’t going to answer me but then, as if he makes up his mind, he backs out of the bathroom and heads to the guest bedroom where he’s staying.
His hand goes to my back as he lays me down on the bed like I weigh nothing. “Don�
��t move,” he says, pointing at me like I’m one of the rescue dogs I train.
I nod and go against saying anything. I’m curious where all this is going and I don’t want to ruin it by speaking, since he seems to be heavily opposed to it.
After a second of just raking his eyes up and down my body, he nods and then stands and walks out of the room. Finally, I relax and let the muscles I didn’t know I was tensing, relax. Really, what are you doing Valentina Lambros? This is Bash-hole, and yes, we once thought he was a really decent friend with a body that we found incredibly distracting, but it’s all just for a few more weeks. Once this competition is over, Sebastian will take his winnings and disappear. He won’t finish college because he’s always wanted to be in Hollywood. Unlike my parents, his don’t support that dream, and he won’t get their blessing or financial support unless he finishes his degree—one that he loathes.
My point is, this is so temporary that it doesn’t deserve a memory that will haunt me forever. I doubt Sebastian will even think of me or these wars once he gets to LA. He’ll live the life he wants with a new cutie on his arm and money in his pocket and a camera in his face. He won’t wonder how I’m doing with classes or if I figured out how to make a bloody gash using makeup.
“Stop thinking,” he tells me, as if he knows me well enough to know I’m worrying about everything that could go wrong.
“I’m not thinking,” I lie, simply because I don’t want him thinking he’s right. His horn doesn’t need tooting any more than it already does.
The smirk he gives me pops his dimple, and I swear those damn tingles start up again. “Liar.”
I shrug. He’ll never know for sure because I’ll never tell him.
“What are doing with that—”
The rest of my words are cut off when he grabs my ankles and drags me across the sheets so that my legs go around his imposing body.
He tosses something next to me that I don’t bother seeing what it is. Frankly, it could be a spider or a stick of gum and I wouldn’t give a shit. The only thoughts running through my head is how fucking low his pants hang off his hips and if I could push them down the rest of the way with my feet.
Before I can try, though, Sebastian’s big body leans over me and lets his stubbly jaw scratch up the side of my leg that’s laying helplessly at his side. He takes the one he just grazed with his pretty face and places it on one of his broad shoulders and then he repeats the same motion with my other leg.
Dammit.
He’s ruined me. At the very least, he’s set a precedent for all the other fake boyfriends that may follow him. The scruff makes the lady bits purr in compliance. When both of my legs are resting—wobbling—on his shoulders, he licks his lips and reaches between my legs.
My eyes close, and I prepare to smother a moan and terribly smutty thoughts, but his touch never comes. Instead, my eyes flash open, as something cold hits my inner thigh.
I suck in a breath and ignore the stupid smirk on his stupid face. He meant to tease me.
“The sting doesn’t look too bad,” he says through a grin, as he wipes what I now realize is a wet cloth against my welted skin. “I don’t see a stinger either.”
Is he really going to remain calm and collected while my legs are on his shoulders, spread apart for his viewing, while he rubs dangerously close to where I want him to be?
Here’s a hint: Fuck the sting.
At this point, I don’t care if I die of shock or my leg rots off. All I want is for that smartass mouth of his to be smothered in my vajayjay.
Yeah, I said it.
I’m not going to act like I’m some kind of reserved person. My lady bits haven’t seen a man in over a year. And even when they experienced a man for the first time, he did not look like Sebastian or make me want to punch him and then make it better.
No, my first time was with Thomas, a guy from the high school band. He played the trumpet and he acted like the sight of my vagina scared him.
It wasn’t a magical or even much of a memorable night, except for the fact that I realized that I had no idea what all the girls were talking about. The D was not that good.
But feeling Sebastian’s scruff against my sensitive skin, the heat from his kiss searing through the cotton of my panties… I’m willing to bet this is the D that I’ve been missing. I bet Sebastian has never played the trumpet, but I’m willing to bet he’s going to be able to blow my horn.
When the cloth is tossed behind Sebastian’s head and his eyes hood with something like torment and want, I finally speak. “If you fucking stop again, I will punch you in the face.”
My comment catches him off guard, and he pauses.
Shit. He’s going to stop and more than likely leave and go home, leaving me stranded until I can get Aspen or Drew to come get me.
After what seems like a few tense minutes, Sebastian finally throws his head back and laughs this big hearty chuckle.
I grin, relieved that he didn’t toss my legs off his shoulders and tell me where I can take my violent self.
But then his laughter suddenly stops, and his gaze drops to mine.
Oh shit. Not good, Vee. This is the part where he leaves.
His hands go to my hips as he leans over me, my knees going to my chest with his movement. “Cute,” he muses, burying his face in my hair, right under my ear. “Here you are, legs spread, and under the weight of my body and you think you’re in the position to demand anything from me.”
Oh.
Well.
That’s a little dominating.
I think I like it.
A bite of pain sends a shudder and a gasp through me as Sebastian nips the skin of my neck, replacing the burn with a soft kiss.
“I’ve wanted you like this for so long…”
I don’t know if he’s talking to me or himself, but I want to hear more. So long you say?
“Every day—” Another bite. “—watching you—” A kiss to ease the sting. “Hating you.”
Oh, well, this is not the direction I imagined this going.
“How did I miss it?”
His kisses are becoming erratic and sloppy, but they’re moving down my body, and right now—yep—that one was on the nipple.
“I’m going to rip this fucking shirt off your body.” He’s gone from sexy neighbor to growly neighbor in mere seconds. You would think that would turn me off. It so doesn’t.
I simply help him tear this fucking shirt from my body. It doesn’t rip because, really, this isn’t a movie and it hasn’t been precut to do so, but he eases it up, snatching it off of me and tossing it where I hope I can find it later.
He takes his time on my bra, though, pushing me back down and giving me a thorough once over. “I figured it would be flannel,” he notes, smoothing his hand over the black satin, cupping my breast in his palm.
I close my eyes, letting the flannel comment go, mainly since his hand is on my breast. I repeat, his hand is on one of my girls. No man has ever touched my boobs before. Ever. Thomas didn’t even bother taking my shirt off when he nearly hyperventilated, while shoving his dick in.
“I hate you.” I moan. “Do the other one now.”
Okay, so I didn’t let the flannel comment slide and I know he went all Hulk-like earlier when I demanded he not stop again, but, this time, he actually does as I ask, somewhat. Instead of moving to the other side, he pulls the cup down and replaces his hand with his mouth and really, I vote this is where his mouth stays forever.
My eyes pinch shut, and I suck in a breath, my stomach concaving from the sensation overload. “Oh my gosh, why didn’t you tell me you were so good at this?” I mumble. “I think this should be the kind of things friends share with each other instead of rumors and subscriber stats.”
Something like a snort comes from above me before he grows tense under my hands and says seriously, “Amongst other secrets friends should share.”
I slide my hand up and down the expanse of his back as a silent apology. I c
an’t change the past. What I can do is let him love on me until we both feel better about those secrets.
After several blessed minutes of lavish attention to one boob, Sebastian finds his way to the other, only pausing to readjust my legs twice when they slip off his shoulders.
“I want to touch you,” I say into his hair, noting the soft, damp strands against my face.
“No,” he clips out, adjusting his grip and adding more weight, just in case I get the bright idea to do it anyway. He knows.
“I—”
His finger slips inside my panties, and every thought I had about touching his chest leaves me.
“Are you wet for the enemy, Valentina?”
Heaven help me, I am, and I’m not even mad about it.
His finger grazes my slit and I gasp.
“Don’t let your legs fall,” he barks.
The angry, bossy thing is really affecting my comebacks. It’s not, however, calming my horny self down. I attempt to channel all my effort into keeping my legs on his shoulders, but when his finger breaches my slit and slides inside me, I let them fall.
He groans and I fight off the feeling that I’m on the brink of an orgasm induced coma but then he adds another finger and I’m pretty positive the delicious stretch is the only thing keeping me conscious.
“I’m going to take these off,” he says, pulling his fingers out, the wetness coating my skin as he tugs on my panties. “You’re not going to move or speak.”
I can do that.
He pulls back and slips off the barrier between us. I’m exposed, my heated flesh cool from the ceiling fan above us. I thought I would want to cover myself or would be nervous or scared that this is happening, but I’m not. Even with his gaze all over my body, I feel quite comfortable with what’s happening right now.
“I—”
He shushes me with a finger to my lips and, I’ll be honest, I almost bite it. I want to see him, dammit, and with the smirk on his face, I think he knows it. He likes depriving me. He always has.
He waits until he thinks I’m not going to speak before he removes his finger. I stay quiet, even though it pains me to do so. With a strength that is pretty freaking awesome from a MyView star, Sebastian slips under my legs, spreading me open and letting my legs fall to the crease of his elbows. Oh, this is much better than his shoulders. He’s literally doing all the work.
