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“You keep telling me you hate me while you stand there soaking through your panties from nothing more than a kiss.” As if to underscore the point, he gave my clit another rub. Sparks exploded behind my eyelids.
I bit my lip to hold back my moan. “I don’t see how the two are mutually exclusive.”
“I turn you on.”
“Unfortunately.”
He huffed, then spun me around so my chest was pressed against the wall. My jeans and underwear were shoved down to mid-thigh, and then his hand was sliding down my stomach to press just below my navel. With his free hand, he pulled my wrists up above my head while he pulled my hips back against his, stretching and positioning me how he wanted me.
“Don’t fucking move,” he said in my ear while the hand on my stomach slid lower.
“I see the bossy, overbearing version of you is back.”
He hummed, letting go of my wrists to push my hair out of the way. His lips brushed against the back of my neck while he touched me where I needed him most. I tried to widen my stance but was pinned by my jeans.
He noticed the movement and chuckled. “What did I just say, sweetheart?”
Then he used one hand to tease my bud while the other slid over my ass, grasping it gently like he couldn’t help himself before sliding between my legs to my opening. I moaned when he entered me from behind with a thick finger, and my head fell between my shoulders.
“Want you to come on my hands, Charlie.”
“Oh, god,” I moaned as he added a finger. “Oh, god.”
“That’s not my name. Say my name, Charlie.”
“You’re the worst, you know that?”
I yelped when he used the flat of his fingers to smack my clit, then trembled slightly when he eased the sting with a gentle touch. “Say my name and I’ll make you come, sweetheart.”
“Anderson—”
Another smack made me jump, the pain skittering over my nerve endings as it melted into pleasure. He was the worst. This was so bad. I never wanted it to stop.
“My name, Charlie. That’s what I want you to say when you come on my hands.”
My head splintered, my hands pressing into the wall. How did I get here? Why was I doing this? My body was out of control, and all I knew was that the man behind me was making me feel like no one else ever had. He’d held me. He’d seen me.
And he was right. He hadn’t done anything that was wrong, other than holding opinions that were opposite to mine. He wanted this town to be safe. He was providing a way for the town to survive.
“Charlie, sweetheart,” he said, breath panting as it skated across my nape. “I’ve been wanting to make you scream my name since you fell into my bed. I’ve jerked off to the thought of you. All I want to do is get on my knees and taste that sweet pussy of yours?—”
“Sebastian,” I moaned, trembling overtaking my body.
“Yes,” he replied in the same tone, his movements becoming jagged, his breaths heavy.
I came chanting his name, his hands working magic on my body like I’d never felt before. My orgasm slammed into me and it was all I could do to stay on my feet. Sebastian held me with one arm hooked around me, palming my core to pin me to him. He slid his other hand out of me, and I felt him tremble as he took himself in hand beneath his sweats. I clung to the wall with one hand and his hip with the other, glancing down to watch him jerk himself no more than three or four times before he was shouting his pleasure.
We collapsed against each other, my body sandwiched between him and the wall, and dragged in long, jagged breaths.
Sebastian was the one who moved first. He slid his hands down my hips until he reached my underwear, sliding the cotton panties back up where they belonged with a gentle touch. Then he did the same with my jeans while I tried to wrestle with what the hell had just happened.
I turned to face him, jeans undone, face a postcoital mess, probably. His hands stayed on my hips as he watched me.
“This changes nothing,” I repeated, desperately trying to rebuild my walls from the rubble he’d made of them.
Sebastian grinned. “Okay,” he said, then leaned forward to press a soft kiss to my lips. He made a vague gesture to his crotch and mumbled something about cleaning up, and as soon as I heard the bathroom door close, I took the opportunity to run back to my apartment and lock the door.
Cowardly? Yes.
