THE SECOND SEBASTIAN parks the car, I slip into his lap.
It’s a tight squeeze until he gets the seat back; he grunts with surprise, his arms coming around me automatically. The whole drive back from Vesuvio’s, I couldn’t pay attention to a fucking thing but his hands, strong and capable and so good at touching in all the right places. We should probably go inside, but the kiss I press to his lips tastes sweeter this way. I can still catch the wine on his tongue, and the caramel from our shared dessert. My belly does a happy flop as my tongue tangles with his. We didn’t finish the whole bottle of wine, so I’m only the barest hint of tipsy, but part of me still feels drunk. Drunk on him and the way it feels to be around him.
I’m realizing, in a slow, inexorable way, that there’s no one in the world like him. No one who makes my heart race the way he does. I’m free-falling, a meteor burning up in the atmosphere.
He nips at my lower lip as he strokes those perfect hands down my back. When they settle on my ass, squeezing, I moan into his mouth.
“I’m super horny,” I say breathlessly.
“I can tell.” The note of amusement in his voice would usually piss me off, but right now, it just makes me want to spread my legs. He rubs his fingertips over my already-damp panties, eliciting another strangled noise from my throat. “What’s got you so wound up, angel?”
“Don’t tease.” I wind my hands through his hair and tug sharply. “You know what.”
He traces little patterns into my back over my dress. “You’re extra pretty when you’re needy.”
“Sebastian—”
He plays with the zipper. “You’re the one who climbed into my lap.”
I reach for his waistband, but he stops me with one of those strong hands. I huff out a breath. “What?”
“We should go inside.”
I lean in again and bite his jaw. “Or you could fuck me in the backseat.”
“Tempting,” he says. “But I’m fucking your ass, angel, and I want you in my bed for that.”
My mind short-circuits at his words. Not just at what he’s suggesting, although I very much want that, but at the confident tone. He’s no stranger to confidence, but he’s never used it to sound quite so sexy before. “Oh.”
“Is that acceptable?”
He’s definitely having fun with this. I pull back, school my face into my sternest expression, and cross my arms. “You seem certain I’ll say yes.”
His gaze settles on my tits for a long moment. I smirk, but then he cups my jaw, pressing his thumb against my lips.
“I know what you need right now,” he says. I lick his thumb, satisfied when that makes his gaze darken. “You need to be overwhelmed, and you need to feel me deep, and I figured the best way to make that happen would be to stuff a toy up your pretty cunt while I bury my cock in that perky fucking bottom I can’t stop staring at.”
He emphasizes that last bit with a slap against my ass, hard enough I feel the sting. I gasp, rocking down against his lap as I screw my eyes shut. I can’t look at him right now; it’d be like staring directly into the sun.
He tilts my face up. “Open those beautiful golden eyes for me.”
I listen, in part because no one has ever called my eyes golden before, and shiver. His eyes are verdant, yet he’s the one complimenting mine. My stomach somersaults again as blush rises to my cheeks.
“Is that what you want, Mia Angel? Did I get it right?”
“Yes,” I say. “Fuck, yes, I want it. I need it.”
He rewards me with another kiss, long and lingering. I indulge it, but before he can work on getting us out of the car, I reach around for the handle and swing the door open. I slide out, barely managing to avoid the steering wheel, and steady myself for half a second before taking off running.
“Mia!”
I hope he hears my laughter. I race up the porch stairs, unlock the door in record time, and slam it shut.
I’m halfway to the second floor when Sebastian bursts in. I freeze on the stairs like a rabbit being stared down by a fox. He looks like he’s torn between growling at me and laughing, so I just give him a little wave before bolting up the rest of the stairs.
I hear him thunder after me. He catches up right as I’m opening his bedroom door, shutting it firmly and pressing me against it. I moan at the feel of his body against mine, the weight and solidity of it. He’s right, I need this. I need him. I’ve never been with anyone who can take me out of my own head the way he can, and right now, it’s all I’m craving. I want to think about nothing but him and how well we fit together. No past, no future—just now, right here, his touch sparking a fire in my body. I wriggle onto my tiptoes and kiss him. I earned this, after the work I put in today.
“What the hell was that?” he says against my lips.
I pull him even closer. “I felt like racing.”
“Racing,” he repeats. “You totally cheated.”
“But you caught me anyway.” I loop my arms around his neck, dragging him into another firm kiss. “I like that you caught me.”
Something softens in his gaze. He fumbles for the doorknob without moving his body away from mine and walks us into his bedroom. He swoops in and picks me up before I can escape, depositing me on the bed and spreading out alongside me.
I curl into his side, finding his lips and the hem of his shirt all at once. We don’t bother to take our time undressing; in about thirty seconds, our clothes litter the floor. I reach between us and give his cock a slow twist, relishing in his shudder.
“I liked catching you,” he murmurs as he cups my face with both hands. He kisses my temple, my cheeks, and finally my mouth, his tongue teasing the seam until I open up. “I liked that you let me.”
“Fuck me,” I whisper. I swipe my thumb against the head of his cock to make him hiss. “Just like you said. Give it all to me.”
He rolls away long enough to root around in his nightstand drawer for lube, a condom, and Cleo, which pretty much lives in his bedroom now. When I pull him back into my arms, we make out for a few minutes, kissing until we run out of breath before diving in again. It’s comfortable, as natural as breathing, our bodies slotting together as though someone carved them from the same piece of wood. I can’t remember ever being this comfortable in bed with another person, or as trusting.
“Elbows and knees,” he whispers eventually, emphasizing the order with a little bite against the underside of my breast. “Spread yourself open for me, sweetheart.”
When I’m in position, he presses a kiss to the top of my spine, stroking his fingers between my legs a few times, getting them wet. Then his hand, wet with lubricant and my slick, traces down my ass. I turn my head to the side, breathing against the pillow. I’m at his mercy, but I feel nothing but anticipation, wanting more of his touch. He slaps my bottom a few times with his dry hand, dragging out more moans. Sebastian’s a nice guy, and I love that about him, but right now, he’s tapping into that intense, commanding side he works with on the baseball field—and the kitchen—and it’s sexy as hell.
“We’re alone in the house,” he says, emphasizing that with another spank. “I want to hear you. Give me everything you have.”
I let myself get louder as he rubs his wet fingertips against my asshole. When he pushes in with one finger, slowly but firmly, I gasp, fisting my hands in the sheets.
“Fuck,” I whine.
“Relax for me,” he says. “Like last time, my good girl.”
The memory hits me like a train. Way back in March, we showered together and made out against the counter with my hand pressed to the fogged-up mirror. When we were both shivering, he brought me to bed, and my wet hair soaked into my pillow as he rimmed me, then fucked my ass. The vulnerability of that moment brought me right to the brink of tears.
I don’t know if this will bring me back there, but part of me hopes it does. If I’m going to cry in front of anyone, I want it to be Sebastian.
He stretches me carefully, murmuring praise all the while, his other hand rubbing my hip soothingly. His fingers feel so fucking big, spreading me in a way that’s both strange and wonderful. My clit is throbbing, begging for attention, and the insides of my thighs are sticky with my own slick. I try to rub my clit to take the edge off, but he pulls my hand away.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, rubbing it for me.
My belly clenches at the feeling of his rough fingertips on that sensitive little nub, becoming a tight rubber band. Just when I’m on the verge of begging him to move faster, he pulls out his fingers. When he replaces them with the tip of his cock, sheathed in a condom and wet with lube, I choke out a moan, pressing against him wantonly. I don’t care how it looks, and I don’t care how needy it makes me. I just need him.
“Fucking perfect,” he says. “You’re being so good for me. God, Mia, I can’t handle how beautiful you are.”
He presses his chest against my back, his arm coming around to hold me in place. He kisses my shoulder blade as he presses in one inch, then two, then three. By the time he’s in all the way, I’m shaking, whimpers slipping from my mouth in a near-constant stream. He’s fucking thick, splitting me open in this extra-intimate way. He keeps working my clit as he lets me adjust to the feeling, continuing to whisper in my ear about how beautiful he thinks I am.
Tears prick my eyes. Maybe it’s the sensations, or his words, which sound so soft and genuine. Maybe it’s the vulnerability of the moment, but whatever it is, I take in a deep breath that ends in a sob.
“Talk to me,” he says. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Really good. Keep going.”
“Such a good girl,” he says, just as quiet. “You take my cock so well no matter where I put it.”
He rolls us onto our sides, pressing my leg up to my chest to deepen the angle, and gives an experimental thrust. I cry out, overwhelmed by the new position, the slow drag of him inside me. “Sebastian—”
He reaches for the vibrator and turns it on, pressing it against one of my stiff nipples. “So fucking perfect, angel. You’re everything. Fucking everything.”
“God.” I pant, twisting in his arms as the vibrator tortures my sensitive skin. It sends a spark of sensation right to my core, making me clench around him even more tightly, if his groan is any indication. He drags the vibrator over my other breast, then down my front. He gets it wet with my slick, thrusting his hips shallowly all the while, and pushes it into my cunt in one go.
I let out a sob that’s half a scream. He keeps the vibrator inside me as he thrusts; the sensations combine to overwhelm me until I come, unbidden, my body shuddering through it. Another orgasm starts to build almost immediately, dragging me back to the peak. At my urging, he keeps going, working up a deep, urgent rhythm. I feel him tense, then relax, as he comes, his name on my lips, and that sends me over the edge again, chanting his name.
I reach back as he pulls out the vibrator. He holds my hand tightly, entwining our fingers. “Holy shit.”
I laugh, my breath catching on another sob. “Yeah.”
He pulls out. I flop onto my back, wiping at my eyes.
“You’re crying.” He wipes away a tear with his thumb. “Are you okay? Was I too rough?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. The air smells like sex, and he’s just sweaty enough that I want to lick him, and something in my chest feels better now. It’s like I had a crack in my heart, and I didn’t realize he was fixing it until it already happened.
“Mia.”
“It was perfect.” I look at him, biting down on my wobbling lip. “So much, and so perfect.”
He pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly enough I can feel his heartbeat. For several long, warm, comfortable minutes, neither of us say a word. My body might be sated, but my mind keeps going, my imagination spinning in an ever-expanding orbit. It runs over my research, my readings, the questions I’ve been mulling over, some for a day, others for months.
“Sebastian.”
“Mm?”
“I want to be alive long enough to see high-definition images of exoplanets.” I meet his steady gaze. “I want to investigate the universe and see the details, not just the big picture. The individual planets, hiding in the light of their suns. I want to see the skies that spit diamonds. The seas of mist and long-abandoned mountains. The craters the size of our moon, the amethyst forests, the red oceans. Some people think it’s impossible, but I don’t believe that. There has to be a way to engineer it.”
“That would be incredible.” His eyes search mine. “Is this what you want to do in the future?”
“I want—”
I cut myself off as an idea crash-lands into my mind. A fragment of thought, but still, large enough to hold onto, teased out by Alice’s feedback. The last snag in our program, turned on its side and made irrelevant.
“Wait,” I say, scrambling off the bed. “I have an idea.”
