Page 74 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
He took his time with me. Kissing between each toe, licking a trail up my shin, biting gently behind my knee. I writhed on the floor with my arms thrown above my head, never begging for faster or more, taking my bliss from the build-up. Not a part of me hadn’t been touched by the time he seated himself inside of me.
With our mouths parted, faintly brushing, we took and we gave. When he breathed in, I breathed out. We resuscitated one another from all the months that a part of us lay lifeless in pursuit of doing what was right and chasing growth. We made love until we drifted away, fading into the black.
I gasped awake on my side to the overwhelming sensation of being full beyond capacity. A leg bent, teeth embedded in my neck, and a hand clamped over my mouth. Instinctively I fought the intrusion, attempted to pull away, but his jaw locked down even tighter. I lay there like a pinned dog whimpering from the onslaught of pleasure and pain. Sebastian snarled, his body cupping mine from behind, his hips thrusting a tight rhythm, his cock barely retreating before burrowing in deep again. “God,” I called when his hand moved from my mouth.
This sex differed from the love we’d made earlier. This was the sex one had when the pleasantries were out of the way. When it was time to get down to business. To settle scores.
“You let him touch you,” he struggled to say as he fucked me with increasing enthusiasm. Or vengeance.
“We-we danced too.” I spared him a glance over my shoulder when he stalled, his breath ragged in my ear. “...Sebastian?”
He withdrew from my hole, pulling a hiss from me, flipped me to my stomach and raised my hips aggressively. “Hold tight.”
The only thing to grasp onto was the edge of the mattress that we’d brought into the living room for old time’s sake. Chest flat and chin planted on the soft surface beneath me, I watched him through the glass front doors not too far ahead of me. He made a show of ignoring me. Of fucking me without touching me. If it wasn’t for the head of his dick brushing against a spot that made me question my sanity, I’d have sworn we weren’t even in the same room. The mattress skated across the hardwood floor and closer to the French doors as his hips swung in and out of me. His hands tugged at his own hair. With his head thrown back, his nimble fingers swirled around his nipples. Mine hardened in jealousy.
“Bash,” I grunted, begging for him to see me through the door. He pretended not to hear.
His chin found his shoulder, and his eyes closed. I took the opportunity to release one hand and reach under me. “Don’t,” he snapped, eyes still closed. “Who does this body belong to, Phoenix?” His gaze found my watery blue eyes. They warned there was only one right answer.
“You. My body is yours.”
He fell over me, throwing a hand out to keep from crushing me. His other hand sealed around the spring of curls at the top of my head. “Then why did you post that photo?” The mattress was so close to the doors now, I had to brace my hands on the glass to prevent my head from going through it. I could clearly make out the lust and pain in his eyes. He tunneled into me with determination. The size of him lived up to its memory. “Was it to fuck with my head?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” He sat back on his calves and took me with him. The door handles rattled as the mattress kept up a constant tap. This position, settled in his lap with my back to his chest, was the toughest to bear. We were glued together, his cock didn’t leave enough room for friction. His entry felt forced, and sometimes, all we could do was sit and breathe.
“Because I was sick and tired of being lonely.” I sagged as the small amount of resentment, that I hadn’t known was there, floated away. Like an exhale of pain when a bullet was removed from a wound. It still hurt, but now we could heal. “Because I was angry, and I needed to know you were too. I wanted to punish you.” My lapses into despair had grown fewer and farther between during our time apart. But I was stronger, not invincible.
He held me up with an arm across my chest, his palm coming to rest at the side of my neck. I watched through the glass as he edged a finger from his free hand under my damp eyes and brought the digit to his mouth, and the holes in my chest began to close. The moon shifted closer, pushing through the dense foliage of trees. Or maybe the trees were what moved, opening a path of light for us. To guide us back to where we belonged. “So do it,” he whispered. “Punish me.”
Bash was nearly a foot taller than me and outweighed me by at least eighty pounds of muscle. The idea that I could punish him physically was an impossible one. At least not without the advantage of surprise. It wasn’t pain he was asking for, but the release of mine.
With him beneath me, his arms wide in surrender, I rode him hard, my knees digging into his sides. I yelled. For all the nights I went to sleep thinking I’d imagined his love. For the days I didn’t think myself mighty enough to make it another hour without him. For having to find myself on my own terms, without his guidance. I pounded on his chest for having to admit that he was right, I’d needed time. Time to weed through who I wanted to be outside of my father’s shadow. For having to admit that in his absence, I’d discovered that I could make it without him. Without them both.
I sucked his cock, and when I could no longer take the burning stretch at the corners of my mouth, I crawled up his body and fed him mine.
Through all this, his choppy breaths cut through him slow and heavy, but he didn’t move, not a finger twitched. He allowed me to take what I needed. He repaired me. And when I sank back onto his dick, grabbed my own, and spilled over his stomach, he sat up with red-rimmed eyes and trapped me within his arms. We rocked from side to side, trembling, his cock jerking inside of me, making me warm where I’d been cold for so long.
He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Our trials are what strengthen us. And we are unbreakable now, my love.”
He kissed me profoundly, making me new, making me whole.Unbreakable.
“What now?” I asked, resting my ear to his heart.
“I accepted a position at Tilden University. They’d been trying to poach me for some time now.”
I sat up from our position on the floor, and he followed. “But they don’t have a philosophy department.” It was the reason I hadn’t considered transferring there although it was relatively close to home.
“They do have a philosophy course, which I’ll be teaching while overseeing the liberal arts department.”
“It’s not your dream job,” I said. “Will you hate me for this?”
“I had my dream job, and I was miserable because I didn’t have you, Phoenix. I’m happier now than I’ve been all semester.”
“If you’re sure—”
“—I am.”
