Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(22)
Bracing her hips with his forearm, he slid his free hand up her torso, closed it over her neck. With his thumb, he nudged her chin up. “Open,” he rasped against her mouth. “Let me taste you.”
She sighed against his lips and did just that.
He surged up into her as he sank his tongue inside her mouth. She slid hers against his as she moved to meet him, thrust for thrust.
The hot, slick silk of her gripped him tight.
He rode her hard, all the buried need he had for her tearing out of him with hooked, greedy claws.
She cried out against his mouth, then tore away, panting for air.
He pushed his thumb into her mouth and she bit down, then sucked on him.
Swearing, he pulled out of her and swung her up into his arms and turned, starting to walk.
“Damn it, you . . .” She barely had the time to swear at him before he had her stretched out on the wide, plush couch just a few feet inside the living room area.
Coming down on top of her, he caught her knees over his elbows, opening her completely. He stayed on his knees, steadying his cock as he entered her once more, slowly this time.
The curls shielding her * were a darker gold than her hair and slick with need. He slid his thumb through them and lifted it to his lips before looking back into her eyes. “More,” he demanded before driving into her.
The noise that left her echoed throughout his very being, teasing the monster his hunger had become.
Marin’s hands curled into fists, digging into the dark, plush material of the couch while she arched her head back.
Bending over her, he raked his teeth down the elegant line, stopping at the mad flutter of her pulse.
Another deep, hard stroke.
Another.
Another.
She grabbed his arms, her nails digging in. “Please . . .” she begged.
Sliding his hand between them, he sought out the hard bud of her clit and stroked, working her until he found the right rhythm, and then he took her straight into a hard, rough orgasm, chasing his own as well.
When it ended, he sank down on top of her and whispered her name.
Marin’s arms came around him. “Sebastien . . .”
“Hmmm.”
She’d said please . . . had begged for him.
He was almost positive all of this was real.
Dimly, Sebastien thought about kissing her, begging her for . . . something, too. To stay. Something.
“Marin?”
“Yeah?” She combed her fingers through his hair again and he smiled. That felt . . .
She nudged his shoulder. “What is it, Seb?”
Sleep rushed up, grabbing him.
Chapter Seven
Late afternoon gave way to twilight and still Sebastien slept.
Marin had slid away from him earlier—once to go to the bathroom and clean up. They hadn’t used anything and she’d done a mental check, figured they were okay. Her period was due soon and she was regular as the day was long.
There were other concerns, but while Sebastien was an awful flirt, he wasn’t irresponsible.
Neither was she.
Well, not normally.
She’d grabbed her bra and tank top on the way back, then laid down next to him.
She’d gotten up a second time to silence her phone after JD texted her.
He’d have to wait.
She had other things going on now.
Curled up around Sebastien, she pressed her face to his back and tried yet again to figure out how she felt.
She’d slept with Sebastien.
Okay, slept didn’t describe it. She’d had raw, earth-shattering sex with him. The best sex of her life and she wasn’t certain how she should feel about it because Sebastien hadn’t exactly been sober.
That was something of a problem.
He talked to her like he was borderline obsessed and she got it, because while she’d claimed she was coming over here purely out of friendship, she’d drifted past friendship a while ago. She’d had an unhealthy obsession with him before and this . . . whatever it was . . . had just grown.
They needed to figure out just what it was they had going on.
Once he wakes up. Once he’s sober. She had to make sure he planned on staying sober. She wasn’t going to get involved with somebody who had a drinking problem, but she thought maybe he was ready to quit.
A low, rough noise came from him and she kissed his back, smiling to herself.
Yeah, they were going to—
“No.”
The word, loud and clear, caught her off guard.
Sitting up, she looked down at him. “Seb . . .” His name trailed off as she saw that his eyes were still closed. Mouth tight, he gave a single shake of his head and said it again, “No.”
Reaching up, she stroked his brow. “It’s okay,” she murmured, uncertain what it was he denied. At her voice, his brow smoothed and the tight fist that lay clenched by his head relaxed.
He turned toward her.
She stiffened in surprise when he grabbed her, pulling her against him like a teddy bear, but then she smiled, stroking his cheek. Nightmares, maybe. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason. Although she could have thumped him for going out and digging into those videos—finding more fodder for the things he saw in his head already.
“It’s okay, Sebastien,” she said again softly. Tucking her head against him, she started to close her eyes.