My heart is beating faster and faster with each word he speaks. I realize I should be scared of Sebastian. I should be terrified, actually. I know the look I saw yesterday, when he killed that man. I know the little gleam was the look of a killer. But something about him is so hard to hate, so hard to be afraid of. Something about him just draws me in, and as dangerous as my attraction to him is, I'd rather have it no other way. Sebastian is thrilling, unpredictable. He's breathed so much energy and excitement and emotion into my life these past four months, something that the previous twenty-two years have totally lacked in. Being with Sebastian means living, really living, and it's the most exhilarating feeling in the world.
"Tell me about the jobs you did," I whisper. He opens his mouth to tell me no almost immediately, but I cut him off. "Tell me, Sebastian. I need to know who you are."
This sets him off. Before I know what's happening, he lifts his hand up from tickling at the soft skin of my thighs and latches it onto my arm in one, quick instant. His grip is hard and crushing, and his eyes train on me, so intense it looks like he's going to snap. "You know who I am, angel," he growls. Cool air whips in through the window in that instant, sending a shiver down my spine, but with Sebastian holding me like this, my heart just keeps pounding. Mostly out of fear, but a sick, twisted part of me also feels too turned on. A part of me loves being his prisoner. "You know me. Don't you fucking think otherwise." His grip is crushing, tightening around my wrist, but it doesn't even hurt. Sebastian's made sure it doesn't hurt. He cares too much to hurt me, I realize.
My head has already started throbbing, and the heat from Sebastian's body surges around me, like electricity in the air. I shift back in his lap, feeling suddenly so exposed without a shirt or bra on. "But--" I start to protest.
His turn to cut me off. "Stop it," he roars. "Just stop it!" His grip is still tight around my arm, and I feel my body starts to shake, feel the familiar fear creep in. I stare into those tortured blue eyes of his, searching to find the Sebastian I love amid the bundle of anger. To find him, and then help heal him.
"That's not fair," I whisper after a minute, my blood pounding in my ear. "How can I trust you if you can't trust me?"
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I expect him to explode at me some more. In fact, I brace myself for the inevitable anger, but nothing comes. Instead, Sebastian stiffens. Releases his grip on my hand. I freeze, but the intensity in his gaze doesn't seem to want to leave. "You get one question, angel," he says in a low voice. "One. Make it specific. And then when we're done, we're going to fuck. Okay? I need you. I need you everywhere and I need you fucking now."
I nod, wanting it so, so bad, and he reaches out a hand, stroking my dark hair all the way down to my breast. More tingles race through me, faster this time, because just the idea of having Sebastian inside of me again is almost too much to bear. "Okay," I whisper. I start to ask him about how many people he's killed, or why Marco wanted them dead, or anything sensible. But then my eyes lock on the scar on his jaw, the little slit where the skin never healed correctly. It looks like a knife wound, and I remember how defensive Sebastian got last time I brought it up. I know I need to know where it came from. I want to know. So I say, eyes locked on his, "Tell me one thing about that scar on your jaw."
Sebastian looks ready to protest as soon as the words leave my mouth, but he doesn't. Doesn't move. Just stares at me, hard and strong, searching my eyes for some kind of sign, like he's debating whether it's right to tell me or not. It occurs to me then how many secrets Sebastian must be keeping from me, how, even after everything, I still don't really know who he is.
Finally, Sebastian looks away, steely-eyed and staring out the window. I watch him intently, watch his every shift of his jaw, looking to figure out what it was that made the Sebastian who can't be scared so unnerved. "All I'll say," he says, his voice both quiet and intense at the same time. My heart races in my chest. "All I'll say is that it wasn't Marco who gave me the scar."
This catches me by surprise.
It wasn't Marco.
The scar wasn't from Marco.
Does that mean there are more people after him? Does that mean he's done more bad things than just what he told me? Does that mean--
But before I have time to ask any questions, Sebastian's fiery gaze is trained on me again, and the need pours off of him like steam after a shower. "Now fuck me, angel," he growls. Just his words make my legs squirm. I try to keep focused on interrogating him, but the desire wins over all too easily. "Fuck me. Let me make you mine."
I nod vigorously, letting all else slip away. I need to be healed, and so does he. And whenever we need to feel better, whenever we need everything else to go away, we always turn to each other. Our bodies are always the answer. Our bodies are the only things that know how to put the broken pieces of ourselves back together.
I reach out and press myself against Sebastian, working to undo his tie, then his suit, and then the shirt beneath it. I work quickly, pulling his shirt over his head, as he starts slipping off my pants with those delicate fingers of his. Soon my breasts are pressed up against his rock hard and shirtless body, and I feel his erection tickling at my thighs as I work to slip off of his pants. They come off slowly, and the next thing I know, he's in his underwear and I'm in my panties, sitting in his lap, pressed against him. Sebastian's body is hot and sweaty, so muscular that it sends tremors throughout my body, and every part of me just wants to lick the sweat off of him, so much that I do. I press my lips to his chest, kissing him first, then letting my tongue slip and drag it across his chest, tasting him, loving him.
Sebastian's erection gets harder and harder, and it feels like I'm burning up this close to him. As I kiss him, Sebastian leans back, trying to suppress a moan, slipping a finger back down my body, along my stomach and slowing at the sensitive skin at my thighs. Gently, he starts moving his finger back and forth. I squirm but keep kissing him, feeling the pressure building up inside of me, the need for him to slip inside of me becoming almost too much. I trail my kisses down his stomach, along those perfect abs of his, and I decide to tease him in return by stopping at the skin right above his cock, kissing slowly, teasingly, and I feel it stand up even straighter, pressing against my thighs. I let out a moan this time, wanting him so much, and suddenly, his grip tightens around me. He lifts me out of the chair and sets my body out on the kitchen table, standing above me, my body sprawled across the cool tile table.
He crawls on above me, leaning his body over mine, dragging his fingers across my stomach as he reaches for my panties. I lean my head back and moan. My eyes stay focused on the ceiling as he expertly slips off my panties. The tension in my body builds up and builds up, and Sebastian slowly drags his finger across my hot, tingly skin as he reaches out and takes off his boxers, then slips on what looks to be a condom.