The Rebound - Stefanie London Page 0,46

make me feel good. It’s like I’m recreating the night at the burlesque show, blotting out the light so I can feel. Only feel.

Sebastian kisses me thoroughly, parting me with his tongue and flicking it over my clit. The change in sensation—hard then soft, fast then slow—keeps me on edge, like a tightrope walker dancing high in the air. I want to fall. I want to come crashing down and feel it all.

“Use your fingers,” I tell him. My voice doesn’t even sound like my own—I’m rough and demanding and needy. My hips roll to meet the rhythm set by his mouth, and my muscles clench and unclench.

“Tell me exactly what you want.” His lips move against my sex, warm breath gliding over my skin.

“Put your fingers inside me,” I pant.

There’s pressure at the entrance of my sex but his mouth is keeping me liquid and soft. When he pushes inside me, it’s heaven and my excitement flashes like lightning.

He curls his finger so it hits me in an incredible spot. “More. Fill me, Sebastian.”

“You’re so incredibly hot, Presley.” He pushes another finger inside me. “And so fucking wet.”

He slides in and out, all the while feasting on me with his mouth. I arch, almost bowing in two, his name falling over and over from my lips in an incoherent pleasure-addled mumble. I bite into the pillow, too scared to cry out any louder in case the neighbours hear. Flynn’s apartment is right next door. The walls are thin.

But the forbidden sense of Sebastian being here—doing this—makes me even wetter. My sex clenches around his fingers and the insistent drive of his tongue pushes me right over the edge. Now I’ve got what I wanted—I’m falling. Shattering. Splintering into a million glittering shards as I come harder than I ever have my whole life.

My teeth sink into the throw cushion as I muffle my screams, gasping and quaking with each ripple of release. When the last wave washes over me, I flop back against the couch, ruined. For a moment, there’s nothing but the gentle pressure of Sebastian’s cheek against my inner thigh, and I reach for the top of his head, toying with his hair.

It’s intimate. Gentle. A stark contrast to the frantic release a moment ago.

How do I feel this comfortable with him? How do I feel like I could say anything at all and it would be okay?

“Can we remove the cushion now?” he asks, reaching up to tug away my embroidered protective shield. “That’s much better.”

He crawls up on top of me, settling between my legs even though this couch is not made for both his tall, broad frame and my lanky one. He cups my face and kisses me, and I’m hit with the unusual taste of myself on his lips.

“You look way too good to be hiding that face away,” he says, holding me tight to him. The hard length of his cock digs into my leg and I find myself twitchy again. Needy again. Desperate for him...again.

“It was more to make sure I didn’t alert the poor people in this building that you were currently eating the heck out of my lady parts.” I giggle. Lord. Did I fry a few brain cells while he was down there?

“I like that you’re loud.” He grins like the cat who got the cream. It would be way too easy to turn that into a rude joke, so I bite down on my lip. “There’s nothing better than knowing I’m making you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good.” Whenever I’m with Sebastian, I feel good—not just the times we’re having sex. All the times.

He’s new and it’s a novelty. If this were a real relationship, it would wear off.

But something tells me that isn’t the case. We’re just...simpatico. Well matched.

“It’s mutual.” He brushes his lips over mine.

“Good. Because now I want us to feel good together.” I reach down between us, my hand feeling for the steely length of his erection. “But I don’t have a condom stashed in my bra this time.”

He chuckles. “Probably because you weren’t wearing a bra. Which gets my enthusiastic approval, by the way. The little singlet with no bra underneath... So sexy.”

He makes a sound that’s like a shot of pure arousal to my system.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure I looked very bangable in my old hoodie and ratty pyjama pants,” I quip.

“Presley, you would look bangable in Christmas ribbon and cling wrap.”

I laugh. “That sounds like a super weird