“You’re just saying that so I’ll get into bed with you,” she teased, quickly moving down his shirt and undoing buttons. She pushed the fabric open and he was wearing an undershirt beneath it, so she tugged it up from his belt and exposed his midriff.
She knew he enjoyed working out and rock climbing. He’d gone on a few rock-climbing meet-ups with Hunter Buchanan since they’d started living together . . . gotten married . . . whatever. He kept in shape, and as an athletic person herself, she appreciated that. His stomach was lean, the outline of muscles underneath his dusky skin. Gosh, he was pretty to look at. Warm, too. She trailed her fingers down his abdomen.
Sebastian groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back. “Your touch feels amazing, Chelsea. Whatever you want to do, I’m game. Touch me however you want.”
As he flexed in the cuffs, she admired him a bit more. The urge to put her cheek down on his chest and just cuddle instead was a tempting one, but she needed to get past these hang-ups.
Or else his mother would have been right after all—she wasn’t good enough for him. And for some reason, the thought of that hurt her.
If she wasn’t so messed up, she’d be falling for him. Hard.
“You okay?” he asked.
She looked over and saw his handsome face was full of concern. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You look worried.”
Chelsea licked her lips. “It’s just been a while, you know?”
He tugged at the handcuffs. “Then let me up. We don’t have to do this.”
“No, I want to try,” she told him, and her hands went to his belt.
“Chelsea—”
She picked up a pillow and covered his face, then giggled because he jerked at the chains again. “I’m calling the shots here. All right?”
“Can you take the pillow away at least?” he said, voice muffled under it.
“All right, but behave.”
“I will,” he said, and she pushed the pillow aside, revealing his sultry green eyes again. His gaze went to her breasts and he licked his lips. “This way I get to look at you. And fuck, I am really enjoying looking.”
“Even if you can’t touch?”
“Even then. I could stare at your beautiful body all day and all night.”
Chelsea preened a little under that, running her hands over her breasts and down her stomach. He groaned, his eyes turning to hooded slits of green. Oh, she rather liked that. She liked being in charge. This was getting to be fun. So she cupped her breasts and slid her thumbs over her nipples, enjoying his newest groan of need.
But now she wanted to play with him. Now she was starting to come alive. So she leaned in and pressed her mouth against his hot, bronzed skin. Her lips grazed over a rib and he groaned once more, his hips straining upward. Let him strain all he wanted—she was in charge. Chelsea continued to kiss and nibble at his exposed skin, pushing fabric aside so she could tease and toy with the parts of him that she wanted to. His pectorals were lightly sprinkled with dark chest hair, and she dragged her fingers through the crinkles of hair before leaning in to kiss a nipple.
He jerked against the chains. “Ah, fuck. That almost made me come in my pants.”
“Almost?” she teased, feeling a quiver of excitement inside her. “I must be doing it wrong, then. I should practice.” And she leaned in and licked his nipple again, swirling her tongue around the flat before nipping the tip.
“Fuck,” he panted. “I don’t know if I want you to keep doing that or if I want you to stop.”
“You don’t get to say.” She nibbled on his nipple again. “I’m calling the shots.” And oh, shit, was that wetness between her legs? She slid a hand into her panties. It was. Not a ton, but it was arousal nevertheless. Feeling encouraged, she licked his nipple again and then began to kiss down the trail of chest hair toward his belly button.
He lifted his head, gazing down at her. “Are you touching yourself?”
Her hand was still in her panties. She froze. “Maybe?”
“God, will you take your panties off so I can watch? You’re so fucking sexy.”
“Maybe,” she teased again, and moved her hand, stroking her clit. “Maybe if you’re good.”
“Torturer,” he rasped, but he didn’t stop staring. And really, it was kind of arousing that he was so utterly fascinated. She leaned in and flicked her tongue against his belly button, then began to kiss toward the opposite side, scraping the tips of her breasts over his abdomen.
Sebastian made another agonized noise in his throat, and his hips lifted again, his belt jingling.
It reminded her that she hadn’t finished undressing him. Really, all she’d done was flirt and tease his chest. Time to remedy the situation. Her hand left her panties and she went back to his belt. She noticed that the front of his khaki pants had a small wet spot from pre-cum. His cock was already so wet he was leaking through the fabric.
That was . . . kinda sexy.
One hand slid away from his belt and she rubbed the bulge of his erection through the fabric of his pants. “You thinking about The Notebook yet?”
“Christ, no. God, your hands. I love that.” His eyes closed again and his body arched. “I may never think about it again. That movie that cannot be named.”
“Because you don’t want me to stop?”
“Because if you stop, I swear you’ll see a grown man cry.” He bucked his hips again, rubbing himself against her hand.
“I’d hate to see you cry.” Her voice was husky with her own excitement, and she clenched her thighs together as she slid his zipper down slowly. This was exquisite torture. Exquisite . . . and she was having fun. Handcuffs were her new best friend. She pushed aside his slacks, now undone, and revealed the straining bulge of his cock that pushed against his boxer briefs. The soft cotton fabric outlined every detail, right down to the heavy knob of his cock head. She stroked her hand down it again. “Should we do skin or should we do stuff over the clothes?”
“You’re in charge,” he said in a tight voice.
And that was the best answer ever. “I am, aren’t I?” Chelsea considered him for a moment, then moved her fingers to his waistband. “Lift your hips and I’ll slide these down.”
He did, and she tugged the fabric down until his cock sprung free.
And oh, she’d forgotten how big he was, the prominent head mushrooming from the thick girth of him. Curious, she clasped him in her hand and her fingers couldn’t quite meet on the other side. “You’re big.”
“And you’re still torturing me.” His eyes were closed again, as if her touch was too much for him to bear with his eyes open.
Maybe she was. She had to admit, she kind of liked torturing him. Driving him crazy with her touch. Being a tease. She didn’t plan on stopping, though. Not when her own desire was pulsing between her legs for the first time in what felt like a hundred years.
“You should unlock me so I can touch those sweet breasts of yours.”
“Nope,” she said, and leaned in, gripping him, and swiped her tongue over the head of his cock. “You’re mine to play with.”
His breath hissed out from between his teeth as she licked him. “Oh, sweet Jesus, Chelsea.”
“What’s that? Do it again?” She leaned in and gave him another flick of her tongue.
“Ah. Yeah. Fuck yeah. Just like that.”
Her thighs clenched together again at his excitement. The sharp taste of his pre-cum was on her tongue, and she lapped at him over and over again, trying to keep up with the drops that beaded on the head of his cock. “Should I take you in my mouth, I wonder?” Her voice was a sultry purr.
“If I say yes, does that mean you won’t?” His voice was hoarse.
When she looked up, she noticed that his arms were straining against the handcuffs, the metal digging into his wrists. His eyes were those sexy green slits, though, and she gave him another long, lascivious lick as he watched. His nostrils flared in response, and she watched the muscles in his jaw clench.
> “You know what? I’m not even going to ask,” she said lightly. “I’m just going to do what I want.” And she leaned in, her hair spilling over her shoulders, and took the head of him against her lips, then drew him into her mouth.
Sebastian’s long, delicious groan was music to her ears. She pulled him deeper into her mouth, sucking and licking, rubbing her tongue against the underside of his cock. His hips lifted and bucked as she wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and began to pump him in time with the movements of her mouth.
“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he muttered as she worked him. “Can’t wait to get you under me, Chelsea. I’d lick your pussy for hours just as a thank-you for the way you’re working my cock.”
Her hand slid back to her panties again. His words were filthy, but he couldn’t do a thing but talk. She continued to tease and torture him with her mouth, licking and sucking. She loved the feel of his cock. He was so hard his skin was like silk over an iron bar, and the duality between the two was fascinating. She sucked him deep and then dragged him back out of her mouth again.
“Gonna come soon,” he growled. “Come over here and kiss me. And then I want your pussy on my cock. I want to come inside you.”
She nodded and released his cock with a “pop” of her lips that made him groan anew, and then she moved up to kiss him. Her tongue slicked over his, and it felt . . . weird.
She was losing it. Oh, no. She needed to go back to that mindless state. So she moved to slide down him again, to take his cock back in her mouth.
“No, baby, up here,” he said, and jerked hard at the handcuffs. “I want to touch you.”
Chelsea’s breath quickened, and she sat up, feeling threads of panic. His wrists were red and chafed where the cuffs were digging into his skin, and she knew she should release him. But the thought of that made her arousal die a quick death. “I . . . I don’t think I can do this.”
Immediately his expression changed, his body tensing. “Derby? Pillow?”
“Those are my safe words,” she said, a shy smile on her face.
“Yeah, but you looked like you needed to say them, so I’m going to save you the trouble.” He gave his arms a little shake in the cuffs. “If you’ll take these off, I swear we’re done. I promise.”
“But what about . . .” She gestured at his cock, still proudly thrusting into the air. The head of it was beaded with pre-cum that had returned in the few moments her mouth had been away from his skin.
“It’s not about me. I can get my rocks off at any moment, remember?” Sebastian’s smile quirked. “Even to The Notebook. But it’s about you and you feeling safe and in control.” He wiggled his hands in the cuffs again. “And did I mention I’m losing feeling in my fingers?”
“You . . . you’re not going to pounce me the moment I uncuff you, are you?”
He looked shocked, then pissed. “Fuck no. I’m angry you’d even think that.”
“Even though I’m being a cock tease?” Her voice wobbled.
“You’re not a tease. I’m telling you to stop.” His voice was vehement, his body tense. “I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
For some stupid reason, she felt like crying. She’d hurt his feelings with her accusation, but . . . she was messed up. She knew she was. “Can we go back to cuddling? I like that.”
“We can cuddle so damn hard it’ll wear a hole in the blankets.”
She gave a teary giggle at that, and moved to undo the handcuffs. “I don’t think that’s how you cuddle.”
“Fuck it. We’ll make our own rules. Just don’t cry, all right?”
Chelsea nodded and sniffed, and when she released him from the cuffs, he opened his arms. She went to him, burying her face in his neck, and sighed with contentment when his hands began to stroke her hair and her back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His hands paused. “Why are you sorry? There’s nothing to be sorry about. I got an awesome three-quarters of a blow job.”
Her mouth edged into a faint smile. “Yeah, but I’m sorry I couldn’t go all the way. That I freaked out again.”
He squeezed her in a hug, her breasts pressing against his bare chest. And somehow, that wasn’t weird. Maybe it’s because his touch was so comforting, so soothing. “Are you kidding? We did a lot more than I thought. Should I have shut up? Did I ruin it?”
She shook her head against his shoulder. “It’s just me.” It was always her and her stupid brain. The panic that she couldn’t shut off. “But . . . I had fun for a while.”
“So did I. We should try it again sometime.”
“Maybe so,” she agreed.
He rubbed her arm. “I have to say, though, I’m down with you running around the house topless.”
She laughed, and it turned into a small sigh as she thought of Mrs. Cabral’s judgy expression. “I guess your mother was right about me.”
He stiffened and sat up. “Wait. My mother? When did you run into her?”
Chelsea rolled onto her back, her hand going to her forehead. Ugh. “Earlier today when I was out with Gretchen. It wasn’t pretty. She ambushed me at lunch and had Lisa along for the ride.”
“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Sebastian slid out of bed and hitched his pants up around his hips. “I’m going to fix this.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get my mother on the phone and tell her—”
“No, please,” Chelsea said, and patted the bed. “Just come back here and cuddle for a bit, all right? I don’t want to think about your mother tonight.”
He looked down at her in the bed, his expression torn. “I don’t like that she’s bullying you.”
“Then we’ll do something about it tomorrow. Tonight I just kind of want to relax, okay?” And maybe get a bit more snuggling in. She was getting addicted to the feel of his hands on her body. Not in a sexual way, but just his soothing, comforting touch. Knowing he was there and would be there for her.
She craved that.
Sebastian hesitated for a moment longer, then return to bed with a bound. She squealed as he tackled her and pulled her against him in a bear hug, his body spooning hers. “All right, you talked me into more of this.”
Chelsea laughed and held his hands against her skin. His hand slid to her breast and cupped it, and she held it there. He wasn’t squeezing, wasn’t trying to “persuade” her to change her mind. He was just holding her. And as he nuzzled her neck, she gave a small sigh of pleasure.
“Maybe my safe word should be ‘Mother,’” he commented. “Nothing shrivels my cock faster than that.”
She snorted with laughter. “I’m sorry I mentioned it. I did walk out on her.”
“She probably loved that. It’ll make a dramatic promo.” He buried his face in her hair. “You always smell so good. I love that you’re so into soaps. I don’t suppose you could brew up something stinky for my mother that we could give her as a gift?”
“Skunk soap?” Chelsea laughed at the thought. “I could, but the house would reek of it for a while, so it might be a double-edged sword.”
“Hmm. We’ll put that on the back burner, then. But tomorrow, I’d like to visit my family, if that’s all right with you?”
“So you can talk to your mother? I don’t want to start trouble—”
“No, so I can show my mother that no amount of her interfering is going to make us part. That she needs to end this story line with Lisa.” He thought for a moment, and then added, “And visit my father and my other brother and sister. You’ll actually like Dad. He’s normal. I sadly cannot say the same for my siblings. They’re very into the show.”
She grimaced at the thought. “Should we call in advance, then?”
“Oh, hell no,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “We’re going to use one of my mother’s favorite tactics and drop in unannounced.”
Oh, boy. Chelsea couldn’t help but worry that his life was a lot simpler without the addition of a fake w
ife. What was she going to do if he came to the same conclusion?
Chapter Eighteen
Early the next morning, before the start of rush hour traffic and when dawn was still a mere suggestion in the sky, Sebastian and Chelsea headed out to confront the Cabrals.
The Cabral family lived in a spacious penthouse in a big old building on Madison Avenue over on the Upper East Side. Of course they did. Tree-dotted Lenox Hill was one of the priciest—if not the priciest—neighborhoods in Manhattan. And in the swanky, expensive building? The Cabrals owned several floors. The bottom one, Sebastian explained as he held the door open for Chelsea as they entered the lobby, was for the camera crews and makeup people.
As they entered the quiet building, Chelsea was glad she’d worn something tame and attractive. Not that she felt the need to prove herself to Sebastian or his family, but just being inside the marble-floored building with the white, modernist design made her feel somehow small and gauche. She’d worn a cute floral skate dress that went to mid-thigh and topped it with a white cardigan and matching white strappy sandals. Her legs looked awesome (well, if you ignored the bruises) and she knew from Sebastian’s appreciative looks in her direction that she looked damn good. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that hung over one shoulder in a riot of big curls.
Sebastian had dressed up for the occasion, too. He wore a dark burgundy sport shirt and a white sports jacket over it, along with a pair of dark pants. His normally curly hair had been brushed into a semblance of neatness that made her want to run her fingers through it and muss his curls back into shape. She liked his wild, untamed artist’s hair.
They wore their matching plain wedding bands and Sebastian’s fingers were linked tightly through hers as they headed in for the elevator.
“So which floor does your family live on?” Chelsea asked.
“Seven,” he said, and then pushed the button for six.
“Then why . . .”
He grinned mischievously at her. “Because we’re going to give my mother a taste of her own medicine. If she’s going to drop in unannounced and force people to do what she wants, she can damn well experience it herself. The camera crews stay on six, and so do the makeup people. We’re going to insist that we have a few cameras with us when we go in. You know how my mother loves to get her every moment on film. Well, this is her chance to get some footage with me since she’s dying to have some.”