Page 75 of Blood and Thorns
“Essentially. It means I need to remain in control of myself.” Sebastian picked up the blue, mixing it with the black straight on the canvas. It created a beautiful, dark swirl. Like a void.
“Nobody is in complete control all the time,” I argued. “You’re allowed to have a bad day.”
His eyes slitted to mine, probably annoyed, but Icontinued anyway because talking to a wall that responded with glares was better than talking to an actual wall.
“Do you know what I do when I’m having a hard time? Aside from making up an extravagant and dramatic plot specifically for the demise of my enemies?” I joked.
“So that’s what’s in that notebook of yours.” Sebastian’s upper lip twitched. “Tell me, how theatrical is my death? Or have we only just fucked in your story?”
My ears heated, and I chose to ignore him. “When I’m sad, I like to eat cake. The really expensive ones that you see in the patisserie windows that don’t even look real. Specifically strawberry and cream.”
Sebastian raised a single brow, but rather than continue to paint, he cleaned his hands before wrapping his knuckles in fabric. So I opened the book, found where we’d left it last time, and began to read about the cursed prince. I found my attention drifting back to him, distracted by how his muscles along his back bunched as he punched the bag.
He stopped when he realised I was watching, glaring a warning until I started reading again. His movements weren’t aggressive, but they were angry. Controlled. Practiced.
It was hours later when he finally slowed, a fine layer of sweat coating his skin.
I’d just gotten to the stupid falling in love part of the story, but I stopped reading when Sebastian approached, leaning down to plant his hands on each side of my hips. He always kept a cushion of air between us, his heat radiating as the tension stretched.
“Lay back,belle,” he said, his voice a deep, husky sound that wrapped around me. I did as I was told, his fingers bunching the fabric of my dress. “Keep reading.”
His hands were rough on my thighs, shamelessly stroking my skin.
“Such a needy little slut,” he whispered when he finally brushed a knuckle against my core. I suppressed a moan, trying to concentrate on the words as his fingers teased until I shattered.
And then he grabbed the paints.
Chapter 33
Sebastian
The familiar symbol of a trident glowing over the thick, metal door came into view. There was no other sign or indication of the depravities that happened within. That was why this was the most elite sex club in the Isles, with strict rules once entering, much like my own club.
I went to Atlantis for one reason: to explore the primal edges of my desire in a space where I held complete control. There, I could unleash the monster I kept caged.
Women came willingly, drawn by the promise of exactly what I offered. I craved the rawness of it, the exquisite imbalance of power. The way it twisted and surrendered beneath my hands as they broke apart, sobbing through the ecstasy only I could give.
I’ve always had this impulse to inflict pain, a desire I was regularly forced to purge if I wanted to keep myself contained. And having such control over someone was a high that you couldn’t replicate.
But sex had become dull, mechanical, and predictable. Even Atlantis, once electric with indulgence, had become as riveting as getting a tooth pulled. A chore that sometimes resulted in a mediocre at best orgasm, if I came all.
And yet Arabella on her knees, taking my cock between those pouty lips and looking up at me with fire in her gaze, had me seeing fucking stars. Even better was the way she pretended she wasn’t turned on, and I took great pleasure in watching her take every inch of me, and then her begging for more.
She was fucking beautiful in her release, her entire back bowing and her muscles tensing. Then there were her lips, which parted with a cry I wanted to catch on my tongue.
A sharp whistle sounded beside me, and I blinked over at Langdon.
“You good?” he signed, a frown marring his brow.
“Of course,” I replied, pushing thoughts of Arabella to the back of my mind as I stepped out of the car. The wind and rain whipped at me instantly, like a violent maelstrom before Chip appeared with an umbrella.
“When’s the last time you slept?” Langdon continued, which made Caden frown as he came from the front passenger side.
“He hasn’t been sleeping again?” Caden asked Lang as if I wasn’t even here. He turned to me. “Bas, you never mentioned you weren’t sleeping.”
I bristled. “I’m fine.”
They exchanged a look, one which I ignored. Their concern dripped off me much like the rain as I walked toward the doors. They opened automatically, greeting us with darkness held back by bursts of red light.
