The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (64 page)

“Ches isn’t like that. He was pretty shocked by everything that went down that day at your place, but he knew that what we had was real. He’s my buddy: he’ll be pleased.”

“When are you going to tell him?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. When are you going to tell your friends about me?”

“Are you kidding?” I laughed. “After your little stunt with Nicole it’ll be hot news in NYC by now. Your photograph will be on screensavers everywhere.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, don’t be all coy with me, Hunter. You know you’re cute.”

He grinned up at me. “Just as long as you think so.”

“I think you’re devilishly handsome, with the emphasis on ‘devil’.”

“Yeah, well as it happens, Ms. Venzi, I think you’ve got some devil inside you, too.”

“Oh, I’d really like to have some devil inside me right now, Sebastian.”

He sat up, pulling me with him.

“Let’s go,” he said.

It wasn’t a request.

I stood up and brushed some of the sand from my pants, while Sebastian retrieved the bottle of wine that he’d stashed in the dunes.

We strolled back to our room, and every now and then, Sebastian would pull my hand to his lips and kiss my fingers gently.

But once we were in the room it was a different story. It was as if someone had flicked a switch in his body: gone was sweet, gentle Sebastian; in his place was a man on a mission who knew what he wanted, and he wanted it now.

No sooner had we closed the door than he pushed me up against it and started kissing me hard, one hand molding my breasts, the other pushing down inside my jeans.

“Where’s that fucking condom?” he muttered.

“Bedside table,” I gasped.

He strode over and snatched up the condom, and had already ripped the foil off before he got back to me.

“Sebastian, the bed?” I said, doubtfully.

“No, here.”

He unzipped his pants and expertly rolled the condom over his erection with one hand. Then he yanked down my zipper and lifted me up by my hips.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, the tension evident in his voice.

“How?” I gasped, pointing at my jeans that were trapped around my knees.

He swore and yanked them further down, but found they were caught by my boots. Instead of waiting the 30 seconds it would take for me to kick them off, he stepped over the denim and ignored the trailing material.

He rammed into me and I cried out. His face was buried in my neck, his breath coming in loud gasps as his body worked faster and faster. I held onto his shoulders while he pounded me into the door. It was so raw and urgent, so completely unexpected, I thought I could see stars.

And then his phone rang.

“Oh, fuck!”

“What? Don’t stop, Sebastian!”

He carried me over to the bed, still joined together, and pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket.

“Sebastian,” I whimpered.

“Just a minute, baby, I’ve got to take this call. It’s my CO’s ringtone.”

What?!

“Hunter, sir.”

Then there was a long pause and I shifted uncomfortably, still clinging on, and Sebastian frowned at me.

Fuck you, Hunter! You’re answering the phone during rampant sex, and you’re frowning at me?

He raised one eyebrow, smirked, then started moving again in a way that should not be permitted while carrying on a phone conversation.

Thrust.

“Yes, sir.”

Thrust.

“No, Italy, sir.”

Thrust, thrust, thrust.

I gasped and bit back a moan.

Thrust, thrust, hip roll, thrust.

“Um … I’ve just been out for a run.”

Thrust, thrust.

“Yes, sir.”

Hip roll, thrust, thrust.

“Yes, sir.”

Pound, pound, pound, thrust, thrust, thrust.

“I’ll be there.”

Then he threw the phone in the corner, dropped me onto the bed, angling his hips in a way that made me gasp, and I threw my head back. He fastened his mouth over my nipple so I could feel his teeth through my bra and t-shirt.

I came loudly and he followed with two quick moves.

“Sebastian?” I gasped, astonished by what he’d just done.

He pulled out and looked down at me, grinning wickedly. “Did you get what you wanted, baby?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you wanted some devil inside you. I aim to please.”

I slapped his arm and tried to wriggle away from him, but his body was still pinning me down.

“Sebastian, you just fucked me while you were talking to your CO!”

“What, you think men can’t multitask?”

I stared up at him in astonishment.

“I can’t believe you did that!”

He laughed. “Felt good! Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that because either it was you moaning, baby, or my CO had a stomach ache.”

“I … you … that … unbelievable!”

He lay down next to me, pulling me onto his chest.

“I haven’t even taken my boots off,” I muttered, to no one in particular.

“Me neither,” he said, with a grin.

He sat up and peeled off the condom, tossing it in the garbage can. Then I heard the sound of him zipping up his pants.

I was still trying to decide whether I was mad at him, or too well fucked to care that he’d taken a phone call during sex with me.

He wandered off into the bathroom, and I heard the shower running while I was still prone on the bed.

He strolled back in, looking completely relaxed and at ease. I felt him pick up my left foot and he started to undo the laces. He tossed the boot over his shoulder where it landed with a thump, then peeled off my sock, and sucked my toes one by one.

“Sebastian,” I whimpered, “you’re supposed to do foreplay
before
sex.”

He grinned but didn’t reply, simply copying his movements with my right foot. Then he reached up to tug off my jeans and panties. It didn’t take much effort as they were already hanging off me. I was now naked from the waist down.

“Very nice,” he said, planting a soft kiss on my belly button.

He pulled me up and hauled my t-shirt over my head, then reached around to unhook my bra.

“Mmm,” he said, tasting both my nipples, his eyes glinting with mischief.

I slapped him away.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Sebastian.”

“Who says I can’t finish? You were the one who said we should be creative. I’m just doing as I’m told, ma’am.”

He unbuckled his heavy biker boots and kicked them into the corner, tugged off his socks and dropped his jeans and briefs to the floor in one quick movement.

Then he tugged his t-shirt from the back of his neck and pulled it over his head, scooped me up and carried me into the bathroom with military efficiency.

The shower was deliciously hot: so was Sebastian.

He lathered up the soap, and carefully washed every inch of my skin, stopping only to kiss me
softly.

“You want some more, Caro,” he said, smiling down at me, and suggestively massaging between my thighs.

“I’d love to say yes, but really I just want to go and sleep. Rough sex during phone calls always does that to me.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Hmm,” he said, frowning.

“By the way, why was your CO calling? What did he want at this time of night?”

Sebastian sighed and looked away.

“He wanted to know where I was.”

“I gathered that. Because?”

“I’m sorry, Caro; I’m going to have to be back in Geneva in four days. And then back to Afghanistan.”

“Four days?”

Oh no.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make the most of the four days then.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise, Caro.”

“Sebastian, don’t worry. Every day with you is a bonus. And we’ve got the rest of our lives to see Italy.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

I pulled him into my arms and we stood together in the tiny shower, letting the hot water flow over us, trying to reassure each other that it would be okay.

Eventually the water began to cool and I turned off the faucet.

“Come here, let me dry you, tesoro.”

Sebastian stood with his arms outstretched, as if waiting for an embrace that didn’t come. Instead, I used the large, fluffy towel to dry his back and shoulders, chest, stomach, arms and legs; slowly, carefully, methodically, soaking up each droplet of moisture.

“There you are—all done.”

He handed me a fresh towel to wrap around myself, then carefully rubbed my hair with a small hand towel.

“You shouldn’t sleep with damp hair,” he scolded me.

His words made me smile.

“Sebastian, I’ve done a lot of foolish things—reckless, you might say—since I met you: sleeping with damp hair doesn’t figure particularly high on that list.”

He scowled.

He looked so cute when he did that
.

I kissed him on the tip of his nose.

“Race you to the bedroom!”

I ran from the bathroom before he could move a muscle, and launched myself onto the bed.

“You’re so slow, Hunter,” I laughed at him. “You’re really out of shape. Maybe you should go for a run, like you told your CO.”

“Tomorrow, Caro, I’m getting a fucking sack-load of condoms, and I’m going to make you regret every word you’ve just said.”

I smirked at him. “Like I said, Sebastian, promises, promises. I keep hearing about these fuckathons, but nothing ever happens.”

His eyes flared with the challenge, and I knew for sure that I’d live to regret my taunts. I was looking forward to it.

I yawned loudly, and he looked amused.

He lay down beside me, his body warm and still slightly damp from the shower, pulling the sheets over us. I snuggled into him, and he wrapped his arms around me so I was curled up on his chest, our legs entwined.

“God, Caro. You make it all worthwhile,” he said, kissing my hair. “Thank God for you.”

“I love you, tesoro,” I whispered.

CHAPTER 10

Waking up in the morning, the first thing I saw was Sebastian’s beautiful blue-green eyes gazing down at me.

“Hey,” he said, smiling.

“Ciao, bello! How long have you been awake?”

“Not long. Just enough time to remind me that I’m a lucky bastard.”

I smiled and stretched, feeling his warm body against mine.

“I could get used to this, Sebastian, waking up next to you.”

As soon as I said the words, I felt a breath of sadness. Our time was limited.

I forced a smile, certain that the last thing Sebastian needed to see before he shipped out was a miserable, moping face.

“So, what’s the new plan, Chief? Do you want to see some more of Tuscany, or shall we go further north?”

He looked bemused. “What about Salerno?”

“It’s too much driving, Sebastian. We don’t have a lot of time and you…”

“Hell, no! I want to see where your dad came from as much as you do. Fuck the driving, Caro! We’re going to Salerno. If you get your beautiful ass out of bed, we can be there in maybe five hours.”

I felt the pull of Salerno and the warm south. I’d tried to be selfless but Sebastian had once again weakened my resolve, as in so many things.

“Anyway,” he continued, “we’re out of condoms, and much as I’m enjoying being creative, I really just want to fuck you into next week.”

“Such sweet words, Sebastian. How did you get to be such a smooth talker?”

He grinned at me. “I don’t know, baby, but it works every time.”

“Every time, huh? But you know, I have to say, last night wasn’t particularly creative—we weren’t even naked.”

He laughed happily.

“Not creative? Hell, Caro, I managed to keep a conversation going with Cardozo; I thought that was pretty fucking creative.”

“Is that the name of your CO?”

“Yeah, he’s an okay guy.”

“He must have his hands full dealing with you.” I paused. “What’s his wife like?”

Sebastian grinned wickedly. “Blonde, attractive … about forty. Why, are you jealous?”

“Of course,” I said, evenly.

He kissed me softly on my lips, his eyes gentle with love. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, baby.”

Love, lust, passion—all swirled through me, his touch blinding me with desire. I kissed him back, pushing my tongue between his parted lips as our bodies began to move together. At my hip, I felt his cock twitch. I wanted him badly. It was, as he’d said: total addiction.

“Caro,” he groaned, quietly, as I ran my hands over his thighs.

“Shh, tesoro.”

Ten minutes later, we were both lying on our backs, panting. There was a lot to be said for a quick burst of hand-to-mouth creativity before breakfast.

I was filled with a warm, satisfied glow, as Sebastian lazily stroked my thigh.

“You ready to get up, baby?”

I sighed, happily. “Mmm, if I have to. But to tell you the truth, I’d be quite happy staying here all day, if someone brought us food. And condoms.”

Sebastian kissed me quickly on my chest, then kicked the sheets back, the cooler air making me flinch.

“Hey!” I complained.

“Up,” he said, as he stood over me.

Then he leaned down and fastened his teeth over my nipple, tugging gently.

“You cheat,” I grumbled, staggering the short distance from the bed to the shower.

He swatted my ass, which I felt was unnecessary: he’d already made his point.

The water wasn’t hot, which didn’t encourage us to linger, and I stood in the bedroom, shivering slightly as I dressed.

“It doesn’t take you long to get ready, does it, Caro. You never even bother to put on makeup.”

Sebastian was sitting on the bed, smiling at me as he buckled up his boots.

I was slightly taken aback by his remark. Did that mean that he wanted me to wear makeup—that he thought I should?

“I do sometimes,” I replied, trying not to sound aggrieved, “if I’m going out somewhere dressy. But not usually, no. Why?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just saying. It drives me crazy when women spend hours getting ready to go out.”

I felt relieved—and annoyed at myself for feeling relieved. I was a modern woman who didn’t need a man’s approval on how I dressed. Except, maybe … yes, damn it! I wanted Sebastian’s approval on how I dressed. I craved the way he looked at me, like he’d never seen anything so precious. Maybe I ought to make a little more effort. Just for the next few days: give him the best memories I could, before we were parted.

I vowed to buy some lipstick and mascara in the next pharmacy or supermarket we found.

“You remember that time we went clothes shopping in San Diego?” he said, pulling me out of my self-flagellating thoughts. “You had to buy a new dress?”

“Oh, sure, I remember that! The sales assistant was flirting with you?”

He looked surprised. “She was?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you remember, she was asking you if you were a pilot from Miramar?”

Sebastian shook his head, amused and puzzled at the same time.

“Well, I’m not surprised,” I said, smiling to myself, “in those days you never used to notice other women flirting with you: you were such an innocent. Not like now.”

“Hell, you should complain, Caro! You were the one I lost my innocence to—a hot, older woman.”

I slapped his arm. “You know what I mean.”

His look of amusement faded and he caught my hand, pulling me down, until I was sitting across his knee.

“Caro, you’re all I want. You don’t have to worry about other women. Yeah, so I fucked around a lot, but you know what? It was just a game—I was using them, they were using me. It gets pretty old after a while.” He paused to tuck my hair behind my ear and kiss my throat. “But I might have to hunt down those old boyfriends of yours and beat them to a pulp.”

I laughed. “Double standards, Sebastian?”

“Nope, just two sets of rules … but I was thinking about the cute, black dress you bought. You looked so fucking hot in that.”

“I’ve still got it somewhere, although I haven’t worn it in years.”

“We should do that, Caro; go out somewhere you can dress up.”

I sighed. “I used to fantasize about seeing you in a tux.”

“Really?”

“Sebastian, I spent far too many hours fantasizing about you in a variety of, um, situations. And just recently, it’s become my new hobby.”

He laughed, delightedly. “I’ve never worn a tux.”

“Never? Not even at your high school prom?”

“I didn’t go. I hadn’t met you again, and I’d split up with Brenda. Ches didn’t have a date either—he swiped some of Mitch’s beer, I scored some weed—and we got trashed on the beach instead. It was a pretty good night—I think. I don’t remember that much about it. We didn’t need any women,” he said, looking at me with a sly expression. “But that was before I met you again.”

“Hmm, very virtuous of you. But didn’t you wear a tux for Ches and Amy’s wedding?”

“Nah, Amy kind of got off on the whole military thing, even though she didn’t want Ches enlisting, so she asked me and Mitch to come in our Dress Blues. I don’t know, I think she thought it would look cool in the wedding pictures.”

He rolled his eyes.

“She turned into a complete nightmare-bitch-from-hell over the whole wedding thing. Ches was freaking out, thinking he was about to marry some crazy person. She even tried to ban him from having a bachelor party,” he said, indignantly.

“Gee, I wonder why … maybe she didn’t trust
you
,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

He grinned at me, wickedly.

“Yeah, well, she was probably right about that…”

“I don’t want to know, Sebastian!”

He kissed me again. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Going somewhere upscale, really dressing up? I’d love to see you like that again.”

“Well, okay. Let’s do that when you get back from this tour. Then we can really celebrate.”

“Let’s do it
now
,” he said, decisively. “There must be some place in Salerno you can get women’s stuff.”

“Stuff?!”

“Yeah, silky dress, stockings, high heels … stuff. And then I could undress you—slowly.”

His eyes heated at the thought, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Okay, I’ll do it if you do—dress up.”

He laughed. “Sure, if I can find somewhere that will rent me a tux, why not? It’ll make a change from being in uniform.”

Then he kissed me quickly, scooped me off his lap and set me back on the floor.

“We’d better get going. Got me a date planned with a really hot woman.”

Instead of traveling along the pretty coast road, Sebastian headed inland for the Autostrada del Sole, the highway that ran from Milan to Naples. It was terrifyingly busy, with huge trucks roaring too close to us, but the route was designed to get us to Salerno in the least amount of time. I clung on and gritted my teeth.

We stopped briefly just outside of Rome, at a café on the highway where they produced fresh pasta to restaurant standards, then carried on south, past Naples and on to our final destination.

Sebastian finally pulled up at the curb when we ran out of road. Behind us, the small town of Salerno clung to the cliffs, the buildings square and white with terracotta roofs, and glistening below them, the Mediterranean was azure in the afternoon sunshine.

He pulled off his helmet and stretched out his back before climbing off. I felt as if the bike was still in motion, and my ass had been molded into the shape of the saddle.

Sebastian grinned at me, then helped me take off my helmet. It was as if I’d been underwater and I could finally hear properly again.

“You all right, baby?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “How are you?”

“Yeah, good. Look, I think it might be easier to find a pensione or hotel in Salerno than in your dad’s village. We’re only a couple of miles away so we could easily shoot on over there in the morning. What do you think?”

“Anything that doesn’t involve getting back on your bike sounds good, Sebastian,” I grimaced. “My ass is numb already.”

He pulled me into a hug, and rubbed his hands over the portion in question.

“Better, baby?”

“Mmm, much.”

He kissed me lightly. “Come on then, let’s walk for a while. We’ll find a room—and a pharmacy.”

“Good to see you’ve got your priorities in order, Sebastian.”

“Trained by the Marines, baby, what can I say?”

We strolled through the sunlit streets, listening to the rumble of local traffic, which seemed to consist of crazy drivers in beaten up cars, and teenagers on scooters buzzing around. Everywhere, people chatted, gossiped, talked, yelled and waved their hands in the air, animated conversations surrounding us. It reminded me of Papa when he got excited, and I could imagine him as a child running down the hill from the village, and climbing back in the evening, dusty, tired and happy.

Sebastian slung his arm around my shoulders with casual possession, and I let my fingers creep around his waist.

It was too warm to wear the leather biker jackets for long, so we found a small pavement café and gratefully sat, relaxing in the sun.

“I could really use a beer,” said Sebastian.

I wasn’t sure if he was just commenting or asking my permission. Either way, I had something else in mind.

“This is the home of limoncello, Sebastian, the real thing—made with Sorrento lemons. I think we should try some.”

“Yeah!” he said, enthusiastically. “You used to make those amazing ones when I was a kid.” He frowned, and I knew what he was thinking—he didn’t like to be reminded of our age difference either.

I shrugged. “Sure, but these are alcoholic.” I glanced at him sideways and smiled. “We could order them with a pitcher of water, too.”

“Sounds good,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

The young waiter slouched over, seemingly unconcerned as to whether or not he would serve us. But when I spoke to him in Italian, he seemed to cheer up slightly, his demeanor a fraction less surly.

“And would you know of anywhere we could rent a room for a couple of nights—nothing too expensive?” I asked, with a smile.

“My uncle might,” he acknowledged, surprising me with a friendly grin. “I’ll go and ask him.”

When I glanced over at Sebastian, he was scowling at me.

“You didn’t have to flirt with him, Caro,” he spat out.

I stared at him, utterly astonished.

“Excuse me? Flirt with him? I was being friendly, that’s all.”

“Well, it didn’t look like that from here,” he said, obviously angry.

I shook my head in amazement. “Rule number three, Sebastian, of my conditions for coming on this road trip with you: no displays of adolescent jealousy. Remember?”