Mister Black: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Part 1 (In the Shadows) (10 page)

There’s something incredibly heartwarming and seductively sexy about the volatile pulsing of his attentions from fierce possessor to tender lover then back again while his hot breath bathes my sex. Everything about him heightens my senses, teasing me even more. I nod in response, near frantic for him to take all of me fully into his mouth.

When he adds another finger at the same time he teases my clit with his teeth, my legs start to quiver. “Oh God. Oh, God. I’m going to—”

“Not yet,” he says harshly. He stills his hand and moves to plant a soft kiss where my leg meets my body.

I whimper and dig my heels into the covers, trying to get him to give me what I want. Tender kisses bathe up my inner thigh, then down toward my sex but not touching. Finally I get it. He’s waiting for me to calm down.

The second my hips settle on the bed, he moves back to kissing and sucking on my clit while his fingers plunder and tease, exploring every part of me. Again and again, he does this until my head is thrashing, my body is quaking, and I’m near incoherent with need.

As waves of heat flush my skin, I beg him, “Please, please, Sebastian.”

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice calm and controlled. He slows the sensual glide of his fingers inside me, then withdraws, his movements now a teeth-grinding unhurried pace. Sweat beads between my breasts. My skin feels too tight on my body, all prickly and warm.

“Let me come!” I demand through clenched teeth.

“That’s my girl,” he says in a smug tone before latching onto my clit with a ravenous ferocity he hadn’t used before.

I scream his name as all the raging tension building in my body unfurls in spasms of pleasurable, mind-numbing contractions. I might be tied to the bed, but I feel intimately tethered to his hands and mouth, like I’m floating in a surreal dream I never want to wake from.

Once I stop panting, he gives me one more long, lingering lick, then quickly stands to kick off his shoes and shuck out of his pants. When he reaches inside the nightstand to grab a condom, my gaze locks on his hands while he rolls the protection down his very impressive erection.

The second he sets his knee on the bed, I scoot back, tugging on the belt to sit up. He’s massive. Both thick and long. He puts BOB to shame by at least three inches.
Oh shit!
“You’re too big,” I strangle out, worried he’s going to split me in two.

Reaching over, he effortlessly pushes my fingers out of the way, tugs one end of the belt, and the whole thing comes undone, releasing me. Before I can ponder his expertise with magical knots, he clasps my wrist and pulls my hand toward his erection. “You will take all of me.”

I experience a moment of panic, expecting him to wrap my fingers around his cock, but when he releases my hand just as the tips of my fingers touch him, I relax. The trust I feel for this man melts my heart, rocking me to the core. Taking a breath, I revel in the heaviness lifting off my chest the moment I slide my fingers around him. I love that he’s giving me free reign. When he shudders and groans, I flex my fingers, enjoying the fact I can make him feel as deeply.

Biting my lip, I start to slide my thumb over the rounded tip, but he lifts my chin and bends close to capture my mouth in another devastating kiss, whispering against my lips, “You’ll be begging me for every inch soon, Little Red.”

T
he thought of connecting with him like this overrides my apprehension, and my fingers reflexively tighten around him. He bites my bottom lip again, exhaling a deep groan as his hips flex forward. “Lay back,” he says, his words almost guttural.

Leaning over me, he slides a seductive kiss along my jaw as he eases the head of his cock inside me. When he pulls back slightly, I exhale an unsteady breath. That wasn’t so bad. I lift my hips, encouraging him to continue.

He shakes his head. “Take it slow.”

I flatten my hands on his hard pectorals, loving the feel of his muscles flexing under my palms. Running my hands past his wide shoulders, I clasp his neck to pull him to me for another kiss.

His fierce eyes snap to mine for a second before he kisses me, his tongue hungrily swiping inside my mouth, swirling against mine, thrusting deep…pillaging me. My whole body tightens in blissful response.

I moan against his mouth and lift my hips again. I trace my nails down his back, thrilled that he’s finally letting me touch him. He’s sculpted in all the ways that make my mouth water, slabs of defined muscle and sinew flexing with each move he makes.

This time he slides deeper and I let out a low, pleased moan, enjoying the sting of my body resisting his girth. Slowly, ever so slowly, my muscles give way a fraction at a time.

His breathing ramps and his hips flex forward, moving deeper. “Holy shit! You’re so fucking tight.”

Rock hard arms strain over me, his body a tight bow, arching, ready to release. I hate that he’s holding back. I surge upward, forcing him to take me.

Swallowing my yelp of pain, I tense for a second. I can’t help it. Damn that hurt, but in a good burn kind of way.

He completely stills and curses under his breath. “Why did you…are you okay?”

When he doesn’t move, just stays buried deep, the heat of his balls teasing my sex, I flex my muscles, tightening my walls around him. “I’m not made of glass, Sebastian. I want to see you unleashed, to be yourself with me. I want you to
fuck me
.”

A hiss escapes his mouth and the beautiful planes of his face harden. He’s on the edge. Leaning down, he runs his nose along my cheek before he husks next to my ear, “You’re going to feel me tomorrow. When you pee, you’ll burn. When you sit, you’ll squirm. When you cross your legs, you’ll throb. Every movement will be uncomfortable, and you’ll know I was here.” To punctuate his point, he surges even deeper, taking my breath.

“Is that what you want?” he sounds shocked and hopeful and intrigued all at once.

I hook my hands behind his neck and slowly nod. “If I don’t have a hard time sitting for at least three days, you didn’t do it hard enough.” His breathing ramps as I trail my fingers through his thick hair and hold his gaze. “I always bet on black. Now make it memorable.”

“Think you can match me?” he challenges as he withdraws, then slowly eases back inside, setting an unhurried pace.

I move my hips in tandem to his, pleasure building all over. He counters my movements, his hand sliding to my ass. Gripping me tight, a growl rumbles from deep in his chest right before he slams inside me in one hard, powerful thrust.

I scream out as my orgasm roars past the swift pain in my core, pleasure shooting from my sex straight to my chest. Clenching and contracting, my body fists tight around him, wanting to milk him, but he’s not done. Not at all.

His breathing rushes out in harsh, rampant gusts as he slides his hand to my thigh and hitches it high around his hip, giving him better access.

When he surges into me this time, I swear I see stars, the jarring pleasure radiates all the way to my scalp. I dig my nails into his back, and with one heel anchored on his hard ass and the other pressed into the soft bed, I meet each of his thrusts with my own.

“That’s it, Red,” he grates out. “Damn, you feel so good. My own fucking beautiful wet dream.”

I know I’m going to be sore for a while. And I’ll probably have bruises. His grip on my ass and hip is beyond bruising. He’s just so freaking big, his body incredibly powerful, like steel covered in skin. But I don’t care. I welcome the onslaught and rake my nails down his back to encourage his thorough taking. “That’s two days, not three,” I taunt through my own panting.

He roars, then grabs my other leg and pushes them both up to his hips as he thrusts hard, pounding into me.

This time my scream is a bit of pleasure and pain. The new position allows him much deeper access, and I know I’m definitely going to have a hard time sitting comfortably for a while.

Sweat drips off his face, sliding down my chest, but all I can feel is heat and want. Delicious, toe-curling anticipation builds, tightening my belly and lower muscles.

The second my next orgasm hits, he grunts out against my throat, “Take me. All of me,” before he pumps his body deeper and deeper. He’s relentless, continuing to overwhelm me, hitting on nerves I never knew I had. And I do take all of him, shocked that my desire starts to build all over again. He doesn’t stop until I come once more, arching against him, crying out his name. Only then does he let out a deep growl of satisfaction and collapses on top of me in a masculine heap of muscle and warmth.

I lay there, a bit dazed as he cups the back of my head and presses his forehead to mine. When our breathing slows, he runs his nose across my cheek, leaving tender kisses along the way. “Mine,” he says in my ear, then he leans over to reach for the tissue box on the nightstand.

Before I can move, he turns and gathers me against his big frame. Tucking my back in the cradle of his body, he wraps his arm around my waist and locks me in place.

As we lay together, listening to the rain, the sports watch on the nightstand lights up, flashing one eleven. A couple seconds of worry flickers when he starts to lean over me. The glow is illuminating my whole face.

But he just touches a button on the watch and the room goes dark once more. Exhaling quietly, I ask, “Is this your room?”

He settles back into place and traces his fingers up my hip. “I stay in here, yes.”

Mina’s room is decorated like any other young woman’s living space, with bright pillows on her bed and matching curtains. Posters line her walls and trophies and dance pictures litter her desk. A lifetime of memories. It looks lived in. In contrast, his room resembles a hotel with its bare walls and only a watch, a phone, and a few toiletries on the nightstand.

“But you’ve never lived here.” It isn’t a question.

His fingers stop moving, resting in place. “I only come to visit when Isabel’s not here. She and my father are away for the weekend, hence the party to entice Mina to reengage with the real world and the masks to make it easier.”

“If you didn’t live here, where did you live growing up?” I ask before thinking better of it.

He tenses behind me, then slides his arm under my breasts, pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder. “Unless you plan on answering my question, I’m done sharing.”

I close my eyes, wanting to tell him my real name—God, I’d give anything to hear him say it while we’re in the throes of passion, but what good would it do? It’s not like I’ll see him again. How unfair is it that the one thing that links us together is the one night I can never discuss with him. A past I don’t want but still exists. And he seems like the type who would want to know. No, he’d
have
to know. He’d never let it go.

His mother had died and he’d never lived with his father. I need to know that he had family to go home to that night he’d helped me. I’d always assumed he had. Maybe I was wrong. “I’ll tell you one thing about me if you answer my question,” I say quietly.

He buries his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply, then traces his fingers over my hip and up my stomach. I think he’s not going to answer when he says, “I lived with my father’s brother. Calder is my cousin. Uncle Jack is like a father to me.”

Ah, now it makes sense. He said he’d practically grown up with Calder.

“Your turn,” he says, kissing the top of my ear as his thumb leisurely slides along the inside curve of my breast.

I rest my head on his thick bicep and feel the strength of it flex under my temple. “Writing is how I express myself. Always has been. It informs, it persuades—”

“It can destroy too,” he says in a clipped tone, cupping his hand on my arm. “I’m going to assume whatever transpired between you and my sister will be held in the strictest confidence.”

The tension in his voice, the protectiveness reserved for loved ones, is back. I nod. “Mina and I came to an understanding.”

“Good,” he says, right before he presses warm lips to my temple.

“Who’s older? You or Gavin?”

“I am. Our birthdays are five months apart.”

I’d studied the Blake family extensively. Isabel had Gavin ten months after she married Adam. That meant Adam hadn’t had an affair while they were married, which had been my initial assumption as to why Sebastian’s father hadn’t acknowledged him publically. So why
isn’t
Sebastian allowed to say he’s a Blake?

He slides his fingers through my hair and chuckles, an edge to his amusement. “I can practically hear the wheels turning in your investigative mind. You get one last question.”

“Why won’t your father acknowledge you?”

“I guess I embarrass him. A kid born to a tryst with a cocktail waitress.” He shrugs and rests his chin on my shoulder. “After I first came to live with him, I was angry and rebellious. I’d just lost my mom. Isabel resented my sudden presence in their home. When I lost my birthday gift the same day my father had given it to me, Isabel accused me of hocking it for cash because ‘that’s what gutter trash does.’ I said some not so nice things in return. Not long after, I got shipped off to live with my uncle. My father and I haven’t been close since. Though I was angry at the time, moving in with my uncle was honestly the best damned thing that ever happened to me,” he says, a fond smile tilting his lips.