Page 52 of Mortgage of Convenience

The sound of the TV is drowned out by my breathing, and it feels like my heart is shaking in my chest. Or maybe it’s me who’s shaking, trembling on the precipice, all while Sebastian grounds me with his touch.

There’s so little space between us now.

But he doesn’t close the gap. It has to be me.

We both need to know if I’m up for this challenge.

“Tell me, Bee.”

I surge forward, my lips meeting his, opening so he can sweep his tongue into my mouth.

Sebastian kisses the way he seems to do everything—without hesitation. I find myself melting quickly, caught between the high of every sensor of my skin pinging all at once and the need to let go, soak entirely into his skin until I’m nothing but sensation and pleasure. All I can focus on is the tickle and scratch of his beard, the soft silk of his lips and tongue, the tug of his hand in my hair, his grip on mywaist, the solid weight of him beneath me, hot and hard and grounding.

“Do you want more?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, my voice shaky at best.

He wastes no time stripping my shirt and bra off, his mouth barely leaving mine while his hands brand my skin. A whine breaks free as he kisses his way down my neck. The scratch of his beard makes the sweet pleasure of his tongue a hundred times better.

Every other experience pales in comparison. Has it ever been this good?

His dick is hard, and I grind against him, desperate to give back half of what I’m feeling. When he sucks on my nipple with a growl, it’s a good sign.

Fuck, I shouldn’t have waited so long to kiss him.

Needing more of him, I grab his shirt and start pulling, revealing inch by torturous inch of glorious skin.

His palms slide up my thighs, leaving a trail of heat behind. When he slowly dips his thumbs under my shorts, skimming sensitive flesh, I moan into his mouth. His grip tightens, and I buck against him, rolling my hips, encouraging more. Then he’s slipping under my underwear, and I gasp.

“Fuck,” he hisses against my neck, sucking a bruise until I moan. “You’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

I’m getting wetter by the second.

“Yes,” I say, gripping his hair and dragging his mouth back to mine.

He slowly massages my clit, and I rock against his hand. He’s so good at this. Our mouths meet, over andover, and I can smell my arousal. I want to taste myself on him. Want more than his hands. Want everything.

He’s rock hard in his sweats. I map the length of his cock through the fabric, and he groans, catching my bottom lip between his and sucking.

Yes.

When I reach into his sweats, I’m consumed by heat. I fist him from root to tip, running my thumb over the crown, spreading precum when he grips my hips and pulls back.

It shouldn’t be different from touching another guy’s dick, and yet it is. Because it’s him.

“Off,” he commands, tugging at my waistband, and I rise to slip off my shorts and underwear.

“Fuck, Bee. Look at you. The things you do to me. You’re gorgeous. One day I’m going to spread you open and feast until you come all over my face.”

With a hand gripping my hair, he pulls me back into his lap, slipping his tongue into my mouth and two fingers into my pussy.

“Let me,” he says, thumb rubbing circles against my clit. “Just let me.”

I’m close already.

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you? Tell me, have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

I moan, and the smile it earns me triples my heart rate.

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