Touched by the devil, p.34
Touched by the Devil, page 34
part #3 of Boys of Preston Prep Series
My stomach sinks even further, but this time it’s a bittersweet sort of ache. “Sebastian,” I say, reaching up to cup his cheek.
But his jaw just tightens as he says, “I don’t want to have any secrets between us, Sugar. I want you to trust me.”
I run a thumb over his cheek, nodding in understanding. “I do.”
“Good.” His tongue darts between his lips and he places a hand on my lower stomach, pushing me back against the cushions. “Do you trust me enough to make you feel good?” His fingers curl around the waistband of my leggings and his eyebrow raises. “I know you hate it when I do shit for you, but I really, really want to do this. Just let me…” He seems at a loss for words for a moment, lips forming around an aborted reply. “Just let me show you. Please?”
I nod, pushing past the twist of anxiety in my chest. “Show me.”
He peels off my leggings, struggling to get the tight fabric over my feet. “Fucking spandex,” he mutters, before going back for my panties. His frustration makes me laugh, easing a bit of the intensity. I do trust Bass, more than anyone else, but letting him take control of my body like this is hard for me. It’s the loss of control and security, sure. But it’s also something new to begin craving. Something new to miss when it goes away.
Despite my agreement, my body fights against me like usual, knees clamping shut once I’m bare. Bass sits before me and kisses each knee before stroking up and down my legs, coaxing them to part. “Can you relax for me?”
I take a deep breath and let my legs fall apart, one against the couch, the other on the seat. This time, he runs his hands up my thighs, eliciting a spark that travels to my core. He switches to gentle kisses, while kneading his fingers into my thighs. I focus on his shoulders, the way the muscles tense and retract, the tattoo inked around his collar. I feel his eyes on me like a branding iron when they rise to my center, a soft groan pouring from his chest.
“So fucking hot, Sugar.” His eyes flick up to mine as he moves closer, and when his tongue flicks out and swipes against my clit, I seize and grab for his thick blond hair.
“Oh!” I gasp, pulling harder. He hums in response and flattens his tongue, coating my pussy with wet warmth.
It’s hard to reconcile, the squirming feeling of wanting to both let him in and shut him out. My knees keep wanting to close, even though my hips happily writhe into him, giving him more of me. He takes it in stride, curling a hand around my thigh and easing it away, spreading me, tongue working me over in expert ways.
He whispers things as I watch him, breathless and captivated. “So fucking gorgeous. Do you like that?” Some of it is completely nonsensical. “I want to, but I won’t. I’m not gonna ask.” Sometimes he’ll mutter a low curse and reach down to squeeze the tent in his pants. Mostly, they’re sweet things, though. Sweet and dirty things. “Been thinking about this for days. Always so fucking hard for you.”
When his fingers join the party, two sinking right into me as his tongue works my clit, my knees don’t even think of closing. They just spread wider and wider, until I’m nothing but an open mess of whimpers for him, hand fisting into his hair.
Fear fades into a tingling, good sensation and I lift my hips into his face. Sebastian reacts by sucking my clit with his open mouth, and it’s all so good, so right, that whatever I’d been worried about, whatever part of my body had been not cooperating, completely vanishes. I barely have time to enjoy the weightlessness of it—the ‘oh god, I’m coming’ part of it—as the orgasm rolls over me quickly, furiously, and I buck into him with a loud cry.
Sebastian breathes hot and heavy against my body until the spasms stop. Then he jolts to his knees and unbuttons his jeans, reaching inside. Through the foggy, post-orgasmic haze, I watch as he runs his hand over his erection in jerky, fast strokes. When he slides a finger back inside me, hooded eyes fixed to where it disappears, still gripping his cock, I don’t even have the presence of mind to feel weird or self-conscious about it.
His eyebrows sort of collapse as he fucks his finger into me, like he’s imagining it’s not his finger doing it. Like he wants to fuck me so bad that it doesn’t even take much to pretend this is his cock.
He doesn’t ask, though.
Maybe all that talk before wasn’t so nonsensical, after all.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen him do this, but we’re long past the slow foreplay we’d experienced that night in his room. He’s so close I could touch him if I wanted to, almost hovering over me, and if I could, I’d catch up to his quick movements. But by the time I shake out of the haze, he’s pulling his finger out of me, jaw tensing, eyes slamming closed as he heaves forward. His hand jerks to a stop. “Fuck,” he grunts, spilling over his fist, dripping hot and sticky on my stomach. His eyes open and he looks down with a grimace. “Fuck. Fuck, Sugar, I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, pushing up to watch the hot cum dribble down my belly. I reach for his neck and pull him down. “It’s fine.” I kiss him, because it is fine. The fact that he did that for me, and that I got to see him go there... it isn’t even gross. If anything, it just makes me like it even more, wearing him like this. Marked, again.
Bass grabs the discarded blindfold-shirt and uses it to clean himself, then me. When he returns to me, settling back between my legs, head resting on my chest, a stillness settles over us. We’re still breathless, my knees bracketing his ribs, and when I run my fingers through his hair, he hums.
“This is probably super shitty timing,” he says, propping his chin between my breasts to gaze up at me. “Because we’re down in a dungeon, and I just jizzed all over you like a goddamn animal—” He laughs when I clamp my hands over my face, groaning. He reaches up to tug a wrist away. “But the fact that you trusted me enough to come with me, to let me do that, even though you…” The skin around his eyes goes tight, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “And because you’re not scared off by literally everything about me, I just…”
“Just what?” My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, I can’t help but wonder if he can feel it.
Blue eyes bore into mine when he says, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Sugar.”
My mouth parts in shock, chest blooming with a sudden, fierce heat. He stares back at me, frank and sure, like he’s not even waiting for me to say it back. Like I could ignore it and it wouldn’t bother him one bit.
I don’t.
Voice trembling, I reply, “I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”
Some girls would get mad about the words ‘I think’ being added into it, but I get it. Love doesn’t come easy to people like us, especially when it’s muddled inside all these feelings—all these fears. What do I know about love?
His eyes, reflecting the flicker of candlelight, say the same thing.
“Don’t move,” I whisper, keeping still as possible as my hand roots around on the floor in front of the couch. Sebastian, who probably hasn’t stayed still a day in his life, does exactly that. And when my hand grabs hold of what I’m looking for, raising it between us, his only reaction is a slow, soft blink.
The camera’s click is the only sound in the room.
It’s true. I know fuck-all about love. What I do know is that Sebastian makes me feel safe. He makes me feel beautiful and sexy and strong, like I’m not just someone to be suffered. Like I’m someone to be wanted and had and cherished. I just hope that I give him back as much as he gives me.
“If it snows, are you still going home?” Georgia asks as we get ready for class. It’s Wednesday and the memorial is scheduled for tomorrow. Of course, the weather forecast is terrible—the first and probably only time this year we’ll get something like snow. Down here though, it’s more likely to be ice that results in power outages and slippery roads. You’d think my mom would change the day for the memorial, but I doubt even a nuclear winter would compel her. As if my dad will know we had to change dates.
“I don’t have much choice,” I tell her. “If I don’t show up, my mom will lose it. It’s really important to her.”
Sometimes, I still wonder why I care. I’m eighteen now. I’m an adult. I don’t live at home. I could never speak to her again, and it’d be perfectly legit.
“Have you asked Bass about the Mustang again?”
“Yeah.” I pull my gloves on, sighing. “Honestly? He’s being kind of weird about it. He says it’s almost ready, but that there’s no way I can take it on the road yet. Whatever the fuck that means. I just need it to be drivable.”
“Hmm,” Georgia says, wrapping a scarf around her neck. “Are you going to ask him to go with you? I mean, I’m still happy to loan you my car for the day if you need it.”
I give her a tight smile. “Thanks. Let’s see what the weather does first. I should have a better idea this afternoon.”
As we step outside, the cold, blustery air slaps against my cheeks, and I feel the first droplets of precipitation. “Jesus,” Georgia gasps, pulling her scarf over her mouth. “I’m going to run to the library and get the books I need for my exam next week. See you later, okay?”
I wave as she runs off, ready to get out of the cold myself. I trek across campus, head ducked low against the wind and rain. Running up the steps of the main building, I slam right into a hard body. Two hands steady me and I look up, prepared for an impromptu meltdown at some random guy clutching my arms.
The panic flares and dies so suddenly that my head spins a bit. “Oh. Hey.”
Bass’s blue eyes peek out from under a black stocking cap. It’s my first time seeing him since we departed last night, on the steps of my dorm, Sebastian giving me a slow, lingering kiss before watching me disappear into the building. From the way he watches me, eyes softening, I suspect he’s remembering the same thing.
I think I’m falling in love with you.
A bitter chill of wind cuts between us, breaking the moment. “I was just coming to find you,” he says, guiding me out of the way of a few classmates walking up the steps. Forehead wrinkled with a frown, he glances toward the dining hall. “I went to check on the cats this morning. Give them fresh water and a few snacks. I’m actually sort of worried about Abby, though.”
From Bass’s calculations, she’s already been pregnant for almost three months—the amount of time it takes for kittens to gestate. “Did you see her?”
He shakes his head. “That’s what’s got me worried. She hasn’t been shy about coming around lately. If she goes into labor and that ice storm hits…” He rips off his cap to rake his hair back, then instantly shoves it back over his head. It’s a useless, fidgety gesture. There aren’t a lot of soft edges to Sebastian Wilcox, but this is one of them.
“Come on,” I say, taking his hand. “Let’s go look for her.”
He glances at the building. “What about Dr. Ross?”
“She’ll get over it.” I pull him forward. “Or, fuck it, right? We’ll pay for it later, but I’m willing to take that risk.”
He shoots me a sharp grin, following me quickly cross the quad, looping around to the back of the dining hall. The air smells like bacon and burned toast, and as soon as we arrive, Lucy and Hades make an appearance. I get the treats out of my satchel and hand them each a few, just to keep them occupied. I make a clicking noise with my tongue, calling out for Abby, but Bass is right. She’s not coming. We wait there, calling and clicking, even shaking the bag of treats as loudly as possible, but even though Lucy and Hades are practically dancing to get more, there’s no sign of her.
Bass ducks behind the dumpster and emerges a moment later with a blue cat carrier.
“Where did you get that?”
“The other night on the way back from the garage, I stopped at the pet store for some extra food. I grabbed it.”
“Good thinking.”
We split up, each of us searching a different part of the area. I comb the tree line, holding out treats and hoping I’m not just spooking her off. Bass searches around the building, the ducts, the gutters, looking under the dumpster.
“Sugar,” he calls softly, fingers snapping in my direction. He nods down at an area between the recycling bins. I quietly walk over, pulling a few treats out of the bag. When I get close enough, I finally see her, tucked between the blue containers. Sebastian shifts anxiously. “Do you think you can get to her?”
“Maybe?” I bend down and tentatively hold out the treats. She’s warmed up to me a little lately but she’s still timid. The fact that she doesn’t even flinch or hiss makes me worry most of all. She’s not in a good place. She sniffs the treat but doesn’t eat it. “Hey, sweet Abby girl, we’re going to get you somewhere warm and safe, okay?”
I know cats don’t like it when you come at them from the front, but from this position there’s no other option. I glance up at Bass. “I think if you move that container you can grab her from behind. I’ll block this side so she can’t run.”
“Good idea.” The rain starts coming down harder now, and from the sound of it hitting the concrete and grass, little plinks instead of drops, it’s already beginning to ice over. I get the cat carrier and move it to the area we need Abby to go. He looks down at me and asks, “You ready?”
“Yep.” I wipe a cold drop off my cheek. She’s not going to give us more than one chance, and once she’s exposed to the ice coming down, she’s going to bolt and go god knows where.
Bass carefully shifts the bin, closing up one entrance and making another. He then pushes it forward, forcing Abby to move or get crushed between them. It’s enough of a threat to get her moving, and she stands, backing her swollen body toward the carrier. When she gets close enough, I grab her gently and push her inside, slamming and latching the door quickly.
I exhale and look up at Bass’s grinning face. “Good shit.”
“So,” I reply, standing, “what do we do now?”
Abby makes a low meowing sound, and I peek inside. We may have caught her just in time.
Bass grimaces and says, “I’m not sure.”
“Your room?”
“Have you been around a cat giving birth?” he asks. I shake my head. “Well, it’s probably loud and I’m pretty sure even with a suite, my neighbors would hear.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Don’t you have your family thing tomorrow?”
“I’m supposed to, but with the weather and not having my car back yet…”
He nods, brows knitting together in contemplation. “I think we can solve that. We can take Abby back to my house, which will put you closer to the Briar Cliffs. I can drive you up there tomorrow.” He watches me closely. “If you’re okay with that.”
I’m struck with surprise that he so willingly wants to take me to his home. That he so willingly wants me to take him to mine. I’d been determined not to have Sebastian meet my family, particularly Doug, but the time for stressing over either has passed. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
As if on cue, Abby gives another long howl. Whatever I think about tomorrow, right now she needs to get somewhere safe, and Sebastian can provide it.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” I tell him, even though the idea terrifies me. He must sense it, because he kisses me on the forehead and tells me to meet him at the car once I’ve grabbed my stuff. Life put Sebastian Wilcox in my path, and there’s no way to avoid introducing him to my family.
I just hope that everyone can survive.
25
Sebastian
If I had to picture a scenario of me taking Sugar—or any girl—home, it would not have been to the soundtrack of a howling cat about to give birth.
“Holy shit,” Sugar says, peering into the crate, “Abby really does not like being in this thing. Is it much further?”
“Nah, we’re almost there.” The ice is coming down harder now, the tiny pellets bouncing off Jasmine’s windshield. I’m as confident as anyone can get about driving, but I’m still tense and anxious. Maybe it’s the fact I’m carrying precious cargo that makes my hands clench, white-knuckled around the steering wheel. After we pass two accidents, I’m ready to get off this fucking hellscape of a road.
It feels like it takes forever for the stone pillars marking the entry of my driveway to finally come into view. I turn in, following the long path toward the house, and can’t help but sneak a quick peek at Sugar, trying to anticipate her reaction. Sugar knows enough about me and my family’s financial status to expect a nice house. But exactly how nice is relative.
Even I’m aware that our house isn’t only big. It could almost be qualified as a fucking compound. We could house a cult in here and no one would be the wiser. Any other girl would be impressed as hell, would probably want to jump straight on my dick when they realize just how loaded I am, but Sugar? She may decide we should go back and stay in that shitty motel off route 64 instead of accepting the reality of my family’s wealth.
I’m already anticipating some pushback about the Mustang. Probably a lot of pushback. Maybe even more of like a shoveback. I’d planned for it to be done by now, and it mostly is. Mechanically, it’s completely solid, all rebuilt. I even took a chance and replaced the sound system, all by myself—new wiring and all. I sent the dash façade off to a guy in Nebraska, the best of the best for restoring those things, and paid someone from out in Thistle Cove to re-do all the flooring. But this cold weather has made painting the exterior impossible. I just need a few warmer days and I’ll have that Mustang looking shiny and new again. I’ve been excited about it for days now, having gotten the seats back from the upholsterer yesterday. My grand plan is that it’ll look so perfect, so fucking amazing, that maybe my girl will only be a little bit pissed when she finally finds out I’m the one who restored it.
Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?
