First Comes Marriage (Aster Bay #3)

Chapter Twenty-eight

There was a terrifying moment where Baz thought she might say no.

He could see Sabrina weighing his heart against her fears, like some fucked up version of Osiris’ scales. In that moment, he understood how men had gone mad for love. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t said the words to her—he was no less in love with her for his inability to articulate the emotion. Despite Jamie’s advice, it wasn’t the time. If he said it now, she’d run, so he’d have to find other ways to tell her until she was ready.

Baz skated his lips over hers, a whisper of a kiss, and he was gratified when she tipped her face towards him, chasing his lips with her own. He kissed her again, longer this time, slanting his mouth over hers. And then again. Over and over until she grew soft and pliant in his arms, melting against him.

This time when he pulled away, she made a little noise of protest at the back of her throat and pulled him back to her, her fingers twisting in his hair as she took control of the kiss, rubbing herself against him like a kitten as she demanded more.

He’d give her more.

He’d give her every-fucking-thing if only she’d take it.

With a growl, he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her into his lap, settling her knees on either side of his hips. Her dress rode up with the movement, her creamy skin almost glowing in the moonlight, and he skated his hands up her thighs, reveling in the softness of her skin. He wished he could see her properly, skirt rucked up and hair fluttering in the wind as she ground her core against the place where he was hard and ready for her. Even through clothing she felt incredible, and he promised himself that the next time they did this, they’d be home, in their bed, with the lights on so he could watch every moment.

“Sebastian,” she groaned as she rocked against him.

He dragged his tongue along her collarbone, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat when he spoke in that low rumble she liked. “Can I fuck you, baby?”

“Here?”

He smirked. She might play at being scandalized, but he could see the way her eyes hooded, could feel how she pressed herself against him harder.

“Here.” He slid his hands all the way up her thighs and around to cup her ass, her dress fully bunched around her waist now. “I’ll slide right in, fill you up, right here on the beach where anyone could see us.”

She smiled as she continued to work herself against the bulge in his pants. “It’s pretty dark,” she teased, pressing her lips together to try to hide her grin. “Not sure anyone could really see anything.”

He reached up with one hand and pulled down the front of her dress, exposing her bra. She released an excited little puff of air, her hand in his hair tightening. She loved this game as much as he did, and fuck if that didn’t make him even harder. He pulled down each bra cup, her tits spilling over the flimsy fabric that had concealed them. Christ, she was beautiful, a wanton vision of perfection, her skin like a beacon in the dark.

“They could see you now,” he said, running a thumb over one puckered nipple. Of course, there was no one around, no one to see how her breathing hitched when his nail scraped the tight little furl, but the fun was in the fantasy of it, the possibility of danger.

He traced a finger between her breasts and down her torso, sliding his hand into her panties. “Off.”

She scrambled to comply, jumping to her feet and nearly falling over as she dragged the fabric down her legs and off, tossing it to the side. He gripped her leg and pulled her back towards him, burying his face between her thighs and inhaling her scent. He’d never get tired of this smell that meant she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He slid his tongue between her lower lips and drew a line up the length of her slit, not enough to bring her any pleasure, but enough to gather the taste of her on his tongue. Enough to make them both out of their minds with need.

“Christ, look at you.” He looked up at her with his lips still pressed to her mound. He understood now why poets wrote sonnets to the women they loved, how they could rhapsodize on the exact shape of their breasts, the dip of their waist. Sabrina Page disheveled and needy was a sight to behold.

Mine.

The word thundered through his veins and he groaned, burying his tongue inside her, as desperate for her release as his own. He licked her hard and fast, winding her up mercilessly, sucking her clit hard and long, until her thighs began to shake.

And when she seemed ready to break, he stopped, pulling away to watch the haze clear from her eyes.

“What the hell?” she panted.

He pulled her down onto his lap and nipped at her bottom lip, harder than he should have, but she didn’t seem to mind. “You come when I decide, wife. And I’m not done playing with you yet.” She sucked in a startled breath, but her body melted against him further. He pinched one of her nipples, hard enough to make her gasp, and grinned at the sound. “Take me out, baby. ”

She licked her lips as she considered his request, but they both knew there wasn’t a scenario where she said no to him, not like this. Everything else might be complicated, but this one thing had always been easy for them.

Sabrina unbuckled his belt and drew down his zipper. When she reached inside the undone placket of his dress pants and wrapped her hand around his cock, he grunted, fighting the urge to buck up into her grip. She drew him out, stroking him from root to tip. She slid down his legs and bent towards his lap, but he tightened his grip in her hair, holding her back.

He tsked softly, tilting her face up to his and nipping at her lip again. “Not yet.” She pouted and he bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling at how goddamn adorable she was.

He slid the hand in her hair down her back and gripped her ass, pulling her back up until their pelvises were flush, then he lay back, tucking one hand behind his head as a makeshift pillow. Using his grip on her to pull her forward, he lined her up so his erection was trapped against his belly, dragged through her slit without ever breaching her entrance. She shivered as the underside of his piercing grazed her clit, then rocked back to glide over him again.

“That’s it, baby. Make a mess of me. Then you can suck me clean.”

She groaned, reaching up and roughly cupping one of her breasts as she continued to slide over his length. His fingers dug into the plush softness of her ass as he helped her find her rhythm.

“You like that idea, don’t you? Can’t wait to taste yourself on my cock.” She mumbled an assent through her shaky breathing and moans. Christ, what had he done to deserve this woman? “Gonna have to wait a little longer, baby. I’m enjoying the view too much to let you have what you want yet.”

She shivered and adjusted her movements to a short, fast slide over his tip, his piercing dragging back and forth over her clit. He let her go on for a minute, cataloging every shiver and shake, the way her breasts moved with each shuddery breath, and, once again, when she seemed ready to burst, he stopped her, holding her still with his cock trapped against her clit. Pressure but no friction. She whimpered and tried, uselessly, to rock against him again.

Fuck, he loved her like this—needy and wild, not thinking, asking for what she wanted. Undone, all the layers of her proper facade messy and stripped away. Because of him.

“You ready for a taste?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion at the idea of being the one who got to see her like this, to feel her.

“Then can I come?”

He slid his hand over the curve of her hip and pushed her back down the length of his erection. “We’re just getting started.” She let out a little cry of indignation and his cock kicked against his clothed stomach. “Suck my cock, wildflower. Taste the mess you’ve made.”

***

It should have been humiliating, keening against Sebastian like an animal in heat, practically begging him for an orgasm. But it wasn’t. It was the hottest thing she’d ever done, except maybe when she did as her husband asked and bent down to lick up the length of his erection, tasting her own pleasure coating his skin. He swore under his breath and dropped his head back as she took his tip into her mouth, playing with his piercing with her tongue.

Sabrina used her fists to squeeze the part of him she couldn’t take in her mouth, working him in slow teasing glides of her tongue and hands. His hand tangled in her hair, gripping the strands until her scalp tingled, but never guiding her movements. She flattened her tongue along the underside and paid extra attention to the ridge of his crown, to the barbell through his tip, to the slit at the top leaking salty precum.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed. She met his eyes as she hollowed her cheeks and continued to suck, the sensitive tips of her breasts brushing against the rough fabric of his dress pants as she moved over him. “Will you swallow me down, Sabrina? Can I come in this pretty mouth?”

She tried to squeeze her thighs together at the fresh onslaught of need buzzing between her legs, and she hummed her consent, unwilling to lose the taste of him. He cursed again and bucked up into her mouth slightly, and her eyes fell closed.

“Eyes on me.” She locked her gaze with his. “There she is,” he whispered, his hand moving from her hair to skate down her cheek, gently cupping her face even as her lips stretched around his cock.

And then he was coming, shooting jet after jet of his hot release down her throat. She swallowed it all and licked him clean when he was done, only letting his still-half-hard cock fall from between her lips when he pulled her up to kiss him. It was messy and urgent, the way he licked into her mouth and bit at her lips, his hands everywhere except where she needed him.

When at last he pulled away, he tucked himself back into his pants and did up his zipper and belt, an evil glint in his eye that she had come to love. “Let’s go.”

He couldn’t be serious. She hadn’t come yet.

He ignored her incredulity as he packed up their things, throwing them haphazardly into the bag they’d arrived with. All except her underwear. That he folded neatly and tucked away in an inside pocket of his jacket. She got to her feet with a huff and moved to right her clothing.

“Stop.” She froze and he moved her hand away from her exposed chest. “You cover up when I say you can.”

She sputtered in disbelief. “You expect me to drive home with my tits hanging out? ”

“I do. I want any car that drives by us to see what a needy thing you are, and I think you want that too.”

She didn’t. She absolutely did not.

Except now that he’d said it, she sort of did, and the stinging in her nipples as they tightened seemed to agree with him. His eyes flicked to the puckered peaks, and he lifted one to his mouth, worrying it between his teeth. The bastard.

“Is this alright?” he asked softly, breaking the spell for a moment. He was so earnest, the care in his eyes clear, she knew he’d end this little game if she wanted him to. But she didn’t want him to.

“More than alright,” she said with a reassuring smile of her own.

His grin turned wolfish and he nipped at her breast once more before straightening up, adjusting his suit jacket.

“Get in the car, Sabrina.”

On shaking legs, she did as she was told. When he climbed into the car beside her and turned it on, her skin broke out in goosebumps. Anyone who drove by would see. It was fully dark out now, but if their headlights hit the car just right… She squirmed in her seat. Fuck, why was that so hot?

Maybe because she knew Baz would never let that happen. He’d never actually let anyone see her that exposed. He drove slowly down back roads on the way to his condo, and they never passed a single car. As he turned onto his street, she realized she’d trusted him to keep her safe, to protect her, even as he asked her to drive home completely exposed.

She trusted him implicitly with her body. To direct her, to make her feel good, to know how far to push her. Would it be so hard to trust him with her heart too?

She watched his face flicker in and out of view as they drove beneath the street lights, caught the quirk of his lip, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. He reached across the console and set his hand on her thigh, squeezing reassuringly, and she realized she already did trust him with her heart, more than she’d ever trusted anyone.

She loved him.

She was in love with Sebastian Graham.

And she was pretty sure he loved her too.

Baz put the car in park and, without a word, walked around to her side of the car. He opened her door and slid off his suit jacket, then bent over so he could drape the jacket over her shoulders, laying the lapels to conceal her nakedness. He held out his hand to her, waiting for her to accept it, to follow him. It was the easiest decision of her life.

Inside the condo, he threw the deadbolt on the front door and backed her up towards the large windows overlooking the bay where they’d had sex that first time. He gestured up and down at her dress. “Off,” he said as he began rolling up his sleeves. Which was really not fair of him. How was she meant to preserve any pretense of control when he was flashing his forearms at her?

She shed his jacket, shimmied out of her dress and bra, and stood in the darkened condo in front of him completely naked. Somehow she felt more exposed than she’d been on the beach.

He circled her like a hunter circling its prey, his eyes assessing every inch of her. In front of her again, he asked, “Did you like driving home with your tits out for anyone to see?”

“No,” she shot back. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was fighting him, why she felt the need to push back. She had liked it. She’d liked it so much she wasn’t quite sure what that said about her.

He smirked and cupped her hard between the legs, dragging his middle finger through her slit. He tsked. “Your pussy says otherwise.” He continued to stroke her in shallow passes of his finger, a tease, just enough to remind her of all the ways he wasn’t touching her. He leaned forward and growled at her ear, “I think you loved it.” He pressed the pad of his finger against her clit, grinding down against the swollen spot, and a bolt of electricity shot down her thighs, buckling her knees. “I think you’re this wet right now because you wanted someone to see.”

Then his hand was gone and she practically cried from the disappointment. “Please, Sebastian,” she moaned.

“What do you need, wife?” He stepped back, unbuttoning his shirt as though he had all the time in the world, as though she weren’t a shivering, shaking mass of nerves desperate for relief. “Tell me, Sabrina. Tell me what you want from me and it’s yours.”

She glanced at him, dizzy with need, and yet still somehow certain that they weren’t only talking about sex. He shucked off his shirt and moved on to his belt, his pants, stepping out of his shoes, losing one piece of clothing at time until he stood in front of her equally naked, his hand slowly pumping over his cock. It was obscene how hard he was again already, though not as obscene as how badly she wanted to drop to her knees and beg him to fuck her.

“I’ll give you anything, wildflower,” he said, his voice raw as he stared her down. “Everything. It’s yours. But you have to trust me. And tell me what you want.”

She tore her eyes away from his. “I want you to fuck me. Make me come.”

He sighed, as though he were disappointed in her answer, then he advanced on her, throwing her over his shoulder. She released a startled yelp, but he was already moving towards his bedroom. He threw her down on his bed and climbed over her. She hardly registered the sound of the condom packet opening before he notched his tip at her entrance and filled her in one smooth glide that drove all the breath from her lungs.

“Is that all you want?”

He hooked her legs and lifted them over his shoulders, his hands wrapped around her calves as he drove into her in slow, even thrusts. The new angle was better than anything they’d done before and the edges of her vision went blurry. He blew out a harsh breath through his nose as though he’d realized she was too far gone to answer him, too lost to the sensations zinging along her nerve endings.

“I’ll make you come,” he promised, the words a low, gravely sound that scraped over her skin. “I’ll make you come until you think you can’t come anymore. And then I’ll make you come again. Do you know why, Sabrina?”

“Why?” she panted as the orgasm began clawing its way up her over-sensitized nerves.

“Because you are my wife.” He pressed his thumb to her clit and began working her hard and fast in time to his thrusts. As the first orgasm crashed over her, he fucked her harder, never faltering in his rhythm. “Because I’m not done with you yet, Sabrina. I’ll never be done with you.”

He slowed the movement of his thumb, but kept it pressed tightly against her, as she shook around him. She cried out his name, her toes curling. Everything in her centered on the place where they were connected, where he was carving his name so deeply inside her she knew she’d never be able to forget how it felt to be his. As her heart rate slowed, he began moving within her again, stroking her twice as fast, twice as hard.

“That was one.”