Too awkward.
Like I said, it’s back to real life, which involves me and my computer, butt in the chair. I just finished teaching my last class of the day. Now, my emails are calling. I made it a point not to check emails during the break. I only half-succeeded. Once a day, tops. Okay, sometimes twice a day. But I didn’t go crazy. My mother would have been upset if I’d spent more time doing work than spending time with my her and my father.
I’m so engrossed in my task I don’t realize someone enters my office until the door slams shut. With a jolt, I glance up and meet Sebastian’s intense gaze. Heat pools in my stomach, because the look he’s giving me tells me he wants to devour me. My dick hardens in my jeans.
“Sebastian. H-hi.” I’m stammering. It takes me another second to realize he’s locked the door. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Aidan.” That devastating smile. It glints with anticipation, sharp as a knife.
As for the rest of him... yes. That is all.
He wears dark-washed jeans that hug his muscular legs. A plain white t-shirt, his Aviators pushed back onto his head in his golden-brown curls. His eyes crinkle with his smile.
He comes toward me, slow, like a predator.
My heart soars. Pushing away from the computer, I search for calm amidst the storm rising in me, the delicious anticipation locking my muscles up tight. Sebastian locked the door. No one can enter.
He reaches me, and his mouth is on mine, devouring, nipping at my lips, his tongue sliding inside and setting off sparks on my tongue. I’m not sure who groans first. That little voice in my head, the one holding me back from taking chances, gets shoved in a corner. My hands dive under his shirt, and it’s so good. The heat and smoothness of his supple skin, the taut muscle shifting. Hair crinkles under my palms as I coast my touch over his pecs, across his hardened nipples. Sebastian seems to like that, because the kiss deepens, growing hungrier, so I do it again, and again, until he breaks away with a shudder. We’re both panting, staring into the other’s eyes.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” he admits, stealing another hard kiss. “It’s been torture.”
“Same.” He takes my mouth again. It’s the only word I can get out.
Before I know it, I’m struggling to yank his shirt over his head. He helps me, and then I’m staring at this man’s amazing chest, his abdominal muscles contracting with each deep exhale. Sebastian has a beautiful form. Saliva floods my mouth at the sight. I think I’m drooling.
“You going to stare or you going to touch me?” His eyes shine with a teasing light. I’m remembering all the reasons why this isn’t a good idea. The largest being that we’re in my office and, even though the door is locked, the custodians have access with their keys.
“The door—”
“Is locked,” he assures.
Another kiss. This one so deep I swear his tongue touches the back of my throat. Blood throbs hotly in my erection, which strains against the denim. “Please,” I whimper. “Touch me.”
It’s a miracle Sebastian doesn’t draw out the torture. Or maybe he does. He palms my dick through my pants, stroking its length. His touch is firm, not too hard, but with enough friction to send waves of pleasure up my shaft and into my balls. His fingers draw down to the tip, where he lingers, lightening the touch.
“Like this?” he asks.
“Harder.” My hips are already moving.
“Mm.” Except he still keeps his touch light. Too light. I’m sitting in my office chair, legs splayed, with Sebastian kneeling between them, his face level with my chest. Tilting up his face, I demand more in a kiss, but the man is frustrating. He’s holding back. I can tell. Why? We’ve spent the last seven days sexting and building toward this moment, and he’s denying me what I want. It’s going to take a little more control on my part if I want more.
Placing my hands on his chest, I shove him back. Sebastian is so surprised that he lets me. But I don’t stop there. I push him down into a sitting position, then onto his back, kicking the office chair out of the way so I have more room to crouch over him. My hands are on his pants, tugging them down to reveal his thick cock, the head flushed, fat, and dripping. This was inside me weeks ago, and I want it inside me again.
Before he can protest, I bend my head and suckle his tip. He cries out—too loudly. I clamp my hand over his mouth to muffle his sounds of pleasure. The door may be locked, but anyone could walk past my room.
He tastes amazing. I keep suckling for a while, then use my tongue to lick at the base of the head, around and around. His hands weave through my hair, not too tight, but tight enough to know I’m leading him to an edge he’ll soon fly off of.
“Aidan.” My name sounds like a prayer, though I’m pretty sure Sebastian isn’t the religious type. “That feels...” Head tipped back, his eyes flutter closed. His hips thrust shallowly, telling me he wants it deeper.
Instead, I lick a hot trail down his enlarged cock vein to his balls. “Do you like having your balls touched?”
“Sucking yeah, but don’t tug them too hard.” The words are jumbled. His head drops to the side, a sigh of pleasure flowing from his mouth, legs splayed.
I’m the same, actually. My balls are sensitive, and as such, there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain. I’m careful with the skin, using the flat of my tongue to create heat, my breath to cool the skin down. It’s rougher down here with the hair, his scent darker, headier. It makes me lightheaded. I slow it down, working my way toward his taint. Sebastian lifts his hips, spreads his legs wider to give me better access. The sight is indecent.
Eventually, I return to his shaft, and when I take him deep, Sebastian muffles a cry against my palm, which is still pressed to his mouth. My head bobs in time with his thrusts, the tip of his dick hitting the roof of my mouth. My own cock throbs, but I don’t have the mental capacity at the moment to split my attention in two. My sole focus is to get this man off.
“Can you take more?” he asks.
I comply, taking him as deep as I can. It’s a good thing I don’t have a gag reflex because Sebastian is hung. Meanwhile, my hands palm his firm butt, squeezing. He picks up the pace. It’s frantic, driving toward release. His fingers curl into my hair. He says my name, just once.
I’ve never done this before, but my finger moves toward his crease. He did the same to me our first time, and it blew my mind. I’m just skimming his hole when he stiffens and spills himself down my throat. I swallow it down. It goes on and on, his broken moan vibrating against my hand smashed against his mouth. When his body sags into the floor, I pull away.
Sebastian peers at me through slitted eyes. “Come here,” he murmurs.
Stretching out beside him, Sebastian wraps his arms around me and tugs my head to his broad chest. We lie there, breathing in tandem.
“How was it?” I ask, curious and self-conscious all at once. My experience level isn’t as high as his, so I wanted it to be good for him.
“Mind-blowing.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
That makes me smile. I relax.
“What I want to do,” he says, breath hot against my ear, “is yank down your pants and fuck you until you scream, but this isn’t the best place for it.” Amusement softens his tone. “Do you want to come over to my apartment? We can order dinner, or just skip to the dessert. I want you in my bed.” Then he does something that takes my breath away. He kisses my forehead, brushes the hair from my eyes. “Just you.”
My throat tightens with rising emotion. And I realize I feel exactly the same way.
We end up ordering Chinese take-out. It turns out we both have a slight obsession with the pu pu platter, if only because it’s ridiculous to say. We bypass the beer because Sebastian doesn’t need it at this point in his life. He loses control when he drinks. Unhappiness is the driving force, but if Seb
astian works on repairing relationships with his team, one day, he won’t need it anymore.
With the spread of lo mein and orange chicken between us on the couch, we cuddle and watch It’s A Wonderful Life.
It’s all very domestic.
We’ve barely reached the middle of the movie when I feel his hand on my leg, stroking up and down my thigh. I’m lying against the back of the couch since I’m taller, and he lies against my front, nestled between my legs. His touch is languid but causes the hair on my arms to rise. I’m no longer paying attention to the movie.
“Round two?” he asks, tilting back his head to look at me upside down.
After a second of hesitation, I brush the curls from his eyes like he did to me a few hours ago. He said he wanted more than sex, but does he really? Wouldn’t he be happier with someone who’s more experienced? My heart spasms at the thought. When had I begun to think of Sebastian as mine?
Leaning down, I brush a kiss to his mouth in answer, pull away, lingering in the space where our breath mingles. His eyes are dark, softened by desire.
Wordlessly, we untangle ourselves from the couch and head to his bedroom, hands touching. Electricity passes through where our skin brushes. I’m aware of how little space exists between us, how it grows smaller as we step into his bedroom, with its massive bed and dark sheets, the walls pale, the style masculine and clean lines. Sebastian grips my hand and pulls me over to the bed, and I swear he’s feeling a touch shy like I am.
Before, I would have expected frantic, hurried movements. All take, take, take and loss of control. Yet after lying next to him on the couch, his head on my chest, those feelings have mellowed and I’m content to be in Sebastian’s presence, whether or not we do anything sexual. The need is there, but the edge has dulled. A slow, warm emotion has taken its place—for both of us, I think—and we go with it.
With a gentle shove onto the bed, Sebastian leans over me and sinks a damp kiss onto my mouth that makes the nerve endings on my tongue go haywire. A controlled, yet sensual, effort. It takes me apart thread by thread, until I’m trembling beneath him, a warm and significant feeling taking residence alongside my heart. Sebastian Dumont: arrogant to a fault, generous lover, frustrating man, exceptional athlete, and something more?
His hands coast down the plane of my stomach and lift my shirt over my head. I return the favor, taking a minute to look my fill. The hard abdomen I can’t stop looking at. The jut of his hip bones. The trail of dark blond hair leading below his waistband.
“You really are beautiful,” I say. The words just come out.
He smiles. It’s not nearly as cocky as I thought it would be. There’s a hint of self-deprecation to it. “Maybe, but I’m learning the importance of inner beauty, too.” He kisses me, mouth quirked as he pulls away. “You, Mr. Jude Law, are beautiful on the outside and the in.”
There’s no more talking after that.
We shed the rest of our clothes slowly. Every time an article of clothing comes off, there’s time spent exploring the skin that was uncovered, learning how the other likes to be touched. I learn Sebastian is ticklish behind his knees. That his most sensitive area besides his dick is the skin of his neck. Also the bottom of his feet.
“You got a foot fetish, Aidan?” he drawls, his back arched and his dick tenting the fabric of his boxer briefs.
I kiss my way down his spread legs, licking the backs of his knees because I love watching him shiver, his eyes at half-mast. Strong, lean calves. Then his feet. My touch remains soft as I stroke a finger along his sole and run it behind his toes. He flexes his feet, trying to get away, but I hold him fast. I have no idea if I have a fetish, but I’m willing to try anything with Sebastian. Before he realizes my intentions, I suck one of his toes into my mouth.
His loud, long groan fills the bedroom. I watch his leaking cock twitch in time to my sucking.
“Aidan. That feels—” The sound snags as I work my way to the rest of his toes, trailing my fingertips up and down his legs in the process.
“Good?” I murmur around his toes.
We both start laughing. I have to pull away to catch my breath. My face feels like it’s on fire. Sucking toes had never crossed my mind.
Sebastian tugs me up so we can exchange a few deep kisses. The room is full of sighs and the musk of arousal. Our cocks are perfectly aligned, scraping against one another. We both still wear our underwear.
“Let’s take these off,” he says into my mouth, removing my boxers. His briefs follow soon after. He takes our cocks in his hand and strokes, slowly. Our hips roll together. Our mouths part and our tongues tangle hotly. Despite the flush building beneath my skin, there’s no sense of urgency. Just a drawn-out pleasure for both of us.
I’m on my back with Sebastian hovering over me, one hand moving toward my crease. I spread my legs. My body knows what it wants. Him, filling me.
As soon as he touches where I want him most, my eyes roll into the back of my head. God, that feels good. His finger working in and out of me in a steady motion. The burn migrates to my balls, which draw up, hard as boiled eggs. Soon, he adds a second finger. The burn intensifies, traveling down my legs to my feet. A sign of building release.
“Can we do it this way?” I ask, gesturing between us.
“We’re already doing it this way.” He pumps harder, misinterpreting my meaning.
“No, I mean having sex facing one another.” Last time, we did it doggie style, which was hot and I’m not complaining. However, this time feels different. It’s far more intimate, for one. I want to look into Sebastian’s eyes.
He looks surprised but not displeased by the suggestion. “Yeah, sure.”
He removes his fingers, unrolls the condom, and adds the lube. It’s a slow push inside my body, our gazes locked the entire time, his girth stretching me. Sebastian’s face is flushed above mine, his pupils dilated, lips parted as his breath pants out of his mouth. His groan vibrates through me.
He’s seated all the way in. We stare at one another, and I can’t help reaching up and touching the point of his chin, pressing my thumb into its center. Emotion flickers in his hazel gaze. My heart beats erratically. In this moment, it feels like I’m bearing my heart to him.
We move as one, drawing out our pleasure. My hands clasp his waist. He lowers himself down onto one elbow near my head, the other hand catching my face and tipping it up for his kiss. Each thrust pushes my pleasure one step higher. The build is amazing, and I wish it were possible to stay like this for hours, days. When he changes the angle, hitting my prostate at the perfect spot, I gasp out, “Sebastian.”
What I want is for him to go faster. Instead, he slows to a torturous pace. We’re kissing. Deep, soulful kisses that feel whole and complete, like nothing else is needed except for our mouths touching. I’m too close. Sebastian’s cock bumps against mine, so I wrap my hand around it, thumbing the head. The breath unspools from his body.
“At the same time,” he says. “We’ll come at the same time.”
“I’m close.”
“Not yet, baby.” Another kiss. He buries his face in my neck. I wrap my other arm around his back to draw him closer so our chests brush, so there is not one part of him that isn’t touching me.
“Sebastian.”
He lifts his head. There’s something in his face—
“Now,” he growls, taking my mouth in a soul-wrenching kiss. He speeds up at the last minute, and we’re both shooting, me onto his chest, he into my body, our twin moans twining together as the pleasure takes us over and we fall, overwhelming and bright, into oblivion.
Chapter 19
Sebastian
Monday’s practice has me twisted up in knots. Coach Wheeler is off speaking to the defense, while offense is gathered on the other half of the field doing shooting drills. My nervousness leads to mistakes, and mistakes lead to everyone shouting at
me to get my head out of my fucking ass. I can’t even dribble properly. That’s how bad it is.
Jason, my dribbling partner, notices. He says, unable to hide his smirk, “Feeling a little off today, Dumont?”
I don’t even get riled up by his attitude. “Yeah.” Time to start being honest about my life. Might as well start now. “Something like that.”
His eyes narrow, as if he’s not sure I’m playing him or not. With a shake of his head, he jogs to where I’ll pass him the ball downfield. It’s as I’m gearing up to pass that I spot Max out of the corner of my eye heading in my direction. I haven’t forgotten our impromptu heart to heart over Thanksgiving break. Out of all the guys on the team, he’s the only one who might help me.
“Hey.” Reaching out, I snag Max’s sleeve. “I need to talk to the team. Do you think you can—” I wave my hand in a vague gesture. The truth is, I’m afraid the guys won’t listen to me, won’t take me seriously. If he’ll do this one thing for me, I will never talk back to him again.
Max lifts his eyebrows in surprise. From his expression, I’m guessing he probably has an idea of what I need to say. “Sure. Give me a minute.”
Then Max does what a good captain should and rounds up the troops after talking to Coach briefly. The man doesn’t look happy about the interruption, but I’m sure he’s as curious as everyone else. Sebastian Dumont, making a speech. Soon, I’m surrounded by my entire team. The center of attention, if you will. Ironically enough, it’s the last place I want to be right now. My legs feel weak.
“Hey.” I give a stupid little wave. Fuck me, I hate public speaking. But mostly, I hate admitting I’m wrong. “I have something I want to say to everyone.”
“We know you got the most goals last game,” one of the mid-fielders snaps in disgust. “You’ve only said it about five or six times.”
A wave of shame bulls me over. It’s nobody’s fault but mine. This is what my teammates think of me. They think I’m selfish, arrogant, self-centered, and they’d be right. But that’s all changing. Today.
Sebastian (The Dumonts Book 1) Page 13
