Bettie Page Presents: The Librarian (10 page)

CHAPTER 19

They rode the private elevator up to Sebastian's loft in silence.

He had barely spoken to her since walking out of Nurse Bettie. Outside of the bar, his car and driver had been waiting, and he held the door for Regina and then settled silently into the backseat next to her. He seemed tense and angry, and she was hesitant to ask why he was pissed off.

Now, in the apartment, the frosty vibe continued.

“Follow me,” he said, walking to the back of the apartment without a glance at her. She hobbled after him, her shoes clacking on the hardwood floors.

He led her past the first wall of photographs, then the erotic photography, and she found herself moving into an area of the loft she hadn't seen on her first visit. The walls narrowed to form a hallway, and the loft angled off into two distinct rooms. She started to peek into one, and he quickly closed the door.

“This way,” he said, opening another door. She stepped inside and realized it was his bedroom.

The walls were rich hunter green, the king-size bed framed in chunky dark wood. One side of the room was completely floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Hudson River. Another wall was filled with paintings, a few of which she recognized from her college textbooks. And she doubted these were prints. She was familiar with one in particular, a beautiful Marc Chagall painting of a woman riding a blue horse. A man rode behind her, his arms around her waist, his face half obscured by her raised arms. The top of the woman's red dress fell below her breasts, exposing them.

Interestingly, there were no photographs on the walls.

Sebastian flipped a switch on the wall, and a heavy dark curtain moved across the windows. Regina shivered with a sudden chill.

He turned to her. “Who was that guy you were out with tonight?”

“I wasn't out with him. I was out with my roommate, and we met these two guys there. . . .”

Sebastian held up his hand to silence her, as if even hearing that much was an affront.

“That dress was for you to wear with me—for me—only. So now I'm taking it back from you. Please remove it.”

She knew by now that he was not joking, that she had not heard him incorrectly, that there was only one thing to do.

With shaking hands, she reached behind her back and unzipped the dress.

Sebastian watched her with great intensity and seriousness. There was a solemnity to his face, and she understood that the act of taking off her dress was weighted with great significance.

Wincing with self-consciousness, she let the dress fall to the floor. Standing in front of him in her white Gap bra and plain cotton underwear, she was mortified. Then she thought of how he had touched her the last time she stood before him, and a sharp pulse started between her legs.

“You're beautiful, Regina,” he said, his eyes sweeping up and down her body. “But you know you can't wear an old bra and panties with me. Please remove them as well.”

Her heart started to pound, and her palms were slick with sweat. She fumbled with the bra clasp she had done and undone countless times, and for a minute she didn't know if she would be able to take it off. But she finally got it unhooked and let it drop to the floor.

She felt his eyes on her but couldn't stand to look at him. Pretending she was alone in her own room, she pulled her underwear over her hips and down to her ankles. She kicked them off.

“Your body makes me so hard,” Sebastian said.

She flushed so deeply, her face felt tingly. Her heart beat against her chest, and she wondered if it was possible to have a heart attack from sheer embarrassment.

“Lie down on the bed,” he told her. She turned to look at the king-size bed, wondering how she could climb onto it without giving him a view of her bare ass.

He saw her hesitation, and as if reading her mind, walked around until he was directly behind her. “Go,” he said.

With no place to hide, she did as he asked.

“On your stomach,” he said. She followed his instruction, burying her head in the crook of her arm, her backside exposed to him. After a few seconds of not hearing anything, she turned to see what he was doing.

“Don't move,” he said, his voice low. She tucked her head back down.

A few more minutes passed, and nothing happened. Again, she turned around. This time, he responded with a smack on her ass.

“Ow!” she said.

“I said don't turn around,” he said, his voice patient, as if dealing with an undisciplined child. She stayed perfectly still, bracing herself for another hit. More time passed, and nothing.

She heard him moving around the room. Then, the bed shifted with the weight of him on it.

“Spread your legs,” he told her. She did, and more agonizing seconds passed with no movement. Finally, she felt his hand stroking her ass on the spot where he had smacked her. His hand brushed down between her legs, and she felt his finger press into her. She felt herself grow wet, and he withdrew his finger, then inserted it again, in and out until sharp sparks of pleasure ignited inside of her.

“Turn over,” he said, taking his hand away. She felt the absence of his touch, her pussy throbbing. There was no space in her buzzing mind for embarrassment as his eyes pored over her body. She noticed that his shirt was unbuttoned, and that his erection was straining against his black pants.

He pushed her legs apart, and she waited eagerly to feel his hands on her and inside of her again. Instead, to her shock and horror, he pressed his face between her legs. She sat up, pulling away from him. The thought of him looking at her down there was too much.

“I didn't say you could move. Get on your stomach again,” he said. She got back down and rolled over, her head once again resting on her arms. She was not surprised when the blow fell on her ass, harder this time, bringing real pain.

And again.

She bit her lip, and then gasped as his finger found its way back to the most sensitive place inside of her. Her pussy convulsed against his finger, and she moaned in a way that made it hard to recognize her own voice.

He withdrew his finger, and pushed her thighs apart. She felt a warmth and wetness against her pussy, and realized his mouth was on her. She used all of her willpower not to squirm away. And then his finger worked her at the same time, and she forgot about resisting, forgot her embarrassment, forgot everything except the waves of pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. She cried out, something unintelligible, some base, animal communication telling him not to stop, that she wanted more.

But he did stop, and she felt him rustling beside her on the bed.

“Turn over,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

She moved onto her back and found that he was naked. His body was even more beautiful than she had imagined, his wide shoulders and tapered waist more perfect than she ever knew a man could be. But what she focused on, what she couldn't take her eyes off of, was his erection, big and straining toward her. It wasn't just that she'd never seen a man naked before—at least, not in real life. It was that Sebastian's cock, thick and engorged for her, offered such an undeniable display of his desire.

He bent over, and she realized he was rolling on a condom. It was the first moment that she admitted to herself what was about to happen—what she wanted to happen.

He moved on top of her, and she put her arms around his broad shoulders, closing her eyes.

He kissed her neck, then moved his mouth down to her breasts, teasing her nipples with teeth and then his tongue, until he latched onto her with his mouth, sucking at her, greedy with his own need. Her pussy throbbed, and she wanted his fingers in her like she had never wanted anything before. Her hips shifted underneath him, pressed forward, begging for him. But instead of his hand, she felt the tip of his cock press into her. She tensed, but he moved slowly, thrusting gently, deeper and deeper, until she was almost filled with him. He stopped, then pressed forward. She felt a sharp pain, then a warm wetness as her body welcomed him.

He pulled out of her.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked, holding her face, his dark eyes stormy with something she couldn't read. Anger? Confusion?

“I didn't want you to stop,” she said.

He rested his head on her shoulder. She touched his hair, stroking it, feeling closer to this strange man than she had ever felt to another human being. She felt a deep calm, but her body still pulsed with need. “Don't stop,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said.

He kissed her mouth, and she threw her arms around him as he tentatively moved back on top of her, but not inside. She felt his hesitation and murmured, “I won't break,” though she knew a part of her just had.

She reached her hands down to his buttocks to pull him into her. Slowly, he filled her again, and this time her pussy clenched against him as if he was meant to be inside of her. He moved in and out, moaning once. The sound of it sparked her own pleasure, a feeling that spread from her pelvis up through her body. His body moved faster, taking hers along with it. The sensation of pleasure intensified, and then broke, like a wave.

“Sebastian!” she cried out, helpless in the throes of the orgasm, her body moving with his in some sort of instinctive dance that was beyond her control.

His thrusting grew quicker, almost frantic, until he cried out with a roar like an animal.

She was amazed that her body was able to give him such ecstasy. It made her feel powerful for the first time in her life.

And when he collapsed against her, his dark hair damp with sweat, his arm draped over her chest, she knew there was no pain she wouldn't suffer to have him.

CHAPTER 20

She woke up disoriented.

The room was dark, but something told her it was morning, no longer night. She rolled over and found herself staring at a wall of museum-worthy paintings—a reminder of where she was and how she had spent the night.

Sebastian's side of the bed was empty, although she had fallen asleep with him beside her.

She reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on so she could orient herself. The blackout curtains made it hard to know what time it was, but she had a feeling she was going to be late for work.

Then she noticed a piece of paper was folded on Sebastian's pillow. She reached for it.

Beautiful Regina,

I hope you slept well.

When you are ready, meet me in the dining room for breakfast.

The bathroom is to your left. You'll find fresh towels and a robe.

—S.

Regina stepped out of bed. Even though she was alone, she was self-conscious in her nudity. Sebastian had insisted she sleep naked, and though she had protested that she would never be able to fall asleep without wearing something, the intensity of the night got the better of her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep probably as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She closed herself in the bathroom and locked the door. As she would expect, it was pristine, sleek, and modern, full of mirrors and black marble, a sunken tub and white-tiled shower encased in glass.

As promised, a long white La Perla nightgown and matching robe hung on a hook behind the door. On the black counter, she found a toothbrush still in its packaging, a pile of plush black towels, and a silver tray filled with Molton Brown and Kiehl's products.

She brushed her teeth, then washed her face with a soy cleanser. Her hair was messy, her bangs askew. And she knew what she really needed was a shower.

Regina opened the door of the glass-encased stall. It wasn't like any shower she had ever seen before. The showerhead descended from the center of the stall, perfectly round, and flat like a pancake. When she turned on the water, it fell like rain.

She found shampoo on the shelf. She knew there was probably a razor if she looked around the bathroom, but she didn't want to take too long. She soaped up her body, her hands pausing over her breasts and between her legs, where she rubbed gently. She felt sore, but it was an ache she welcomed.

Her body was like an unfamiliar new friend. Who knew it could give such pleasure—to herself, and to another person.

The thought of Sebastian sent a delicious shiver through her body. She closed her eyes and pictured the riveting sight of his cock, and the feeling when she realized he was going to put it inside of her. She had, of course, long imagined what it would be like to have sex for the first time. But she realized now how naive and one-dimensional her fantasies had been. How could she have imagined the smell of his skin, the way his mouth felt on her breasts, the pressure of his hands behind her as he guided her onto his cock, or the way her body would open to him as if she were finally feeding it after a hunger strike . . . ?

She turned the water off. This was madness. She had to get back to reality. She had no idea what time it was, and she would have to get home before she went to work. The only clothes she had with her was the black dress she'd worn to Nurse Bettie.

Regina toweled off and ran a comb through her hair, then pulled her bangs into place. She reached for the La Perla nightgown and saw that it still had tags on it. She yanked off the tags and slipped it over her head. The fabric was so soft, it caressed her skin. And she realized it was see-through.

She pulled on the light robe and cinched it around her waist. Meeting her eyes in the mirror, she felt, for the first time in her life, truly beautiful.

•

“Good morning,” Sebastian said, smiling at her. He wore dark jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up just above his strong wrists. His hair was wet, his eyes bright and challenging as always.

She found him at a long breakfast table. It was narrow, black, and gleamed as if it were covered with a sheet of ice. Sebastian sat at one end with a laptop, surrounded by plates of bagels, fresh fruit, muffins, and a carafe of coffee. He poured her a cup as she sat down across from him.

“This is . . . really nice,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. “But I'm so late for work. I have to get going,” she said.

“I already called Sloan,” he said.

“You what?”

“I told Sloan you wouldn't be in today. That we are working off site.”

“You had no right to do that. Did you ever think that maybe I
want
to go to work today?”

“You aren't entitled to want anything. You have been extremely bad, and you need to be punished.”

In the harsh light of day, this talk sounded a lot less reasonable than it had at eleven o'clock at night.

“This isn't a game,” she said, putting down her coffee cup.

“You're right. I'm completely serious. The question is, are you?” he asked angrily.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“How could you not tell me you were a virgin?”

She blushed. “I'm sorry. There didn't seem to be a right moment. I mean, I felt stupid just coming out and saying it.”

“I never would have fucked you like that if I'd known.”

She couldn't believe his arrogance. “How and when I'm ‘fucked'—as you put it—is not your decision to make,” she said.

“If you are so good at making that decision, why did you never make it before? If you had the confidence to make the choice for yourself, you would have made it by now. But you're afraid. I'll teach you to be unafraid. If you'll let me.”

She was shocked to feel her eyes fill with tears.

“It's okay, Regina,” he said. “I know it feels good to let me be in control. You don't have to think about anything. You don't have to figure it out. You don't have to do the right thing. Surrender to me, and see how you like it.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Now eat something,” he said. “You're going to need your strength.”