Page 151 of Bastian

Every part of me is burning up for him.

Then his lips part, and I feel his soft, hot tongue run along the shell of my ear before he bites it. That’s it. Not being able to take it anymore, my hand goes down to my parted thighs, and I let my fingers slip through the wet folds of my pussy, slowly moving down until I find where we are joined. I let my fingers part in the middle, with Sebastian’s solid cock thrust between them. The pad of my thumb presses against my clit, and the orgasm that was building becomes urgent. My entire body is buzzing with the need to come undone for him.

Sebastian’s head comes down to rest against the top of my spine, and I know he is close. Which is why I tighten my pelvic muscles and start to stroke my clit faster. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, yes. That’s my good girl. Rub that pretty little clit for me.” Sebastian hisses, before his hot breath explodes against my neck.

Good girl.

I’ve never been good. Not really. I am aware that there’s little good in me but in bed and while in his arms I enjoy it.

Being his good girl.

While he does bad, bad things to my body.

A moment later, he grunts, his belly tightening, and I feel his cock start to twitch inside of me. Then, I feel his rough hand move to my breast, pinching my sensitive nipple. That’s what does it, because next thing I know, I gasp as my orgasm rolls over me while Sebastian fucks me harder riding out his own release. My body bows, and the only thing that is holding me where I am, is Sebastian’s tight grip on my breasts and his cock planted deep inside of me. “Oh, yes,” I breathe out, my head falling back limply against his collarbone. He hums, letting my breast go.

We lay like that, both of us trying to control our breathing for long moments. Then his hand slips back down to my stomach. “This feels like a dream. Sometimes I think to myself that I’m still in that coma and this will all fade away once I wake up.” Sebastian confesses, still breathless.

Hard beating fast, I whisper. “Not a dream, baby. This is real. We are real and I am here. I am not going anywhere,” I place my hand on top of his as I promised him.

This is real.

The most real thing I have ever had.

Maybe the only thing real in my life.

Us.

Our family.

* * *

Morning sunlight comes through the window the second I open my eyes. Then, a feeling of bliss takes over me when I see Sebastian standing at the end of the bed dressed impeccably as always with a newspaper in hand.

Amusement fills my heart when I think of how most men don’t read the paper anymore. They just read their news on the internet but not Sebastian, no. Because he is not like most people. He enjoys sitting down with a cup of coffee to read the newspaper instead of being glued to his phone and getting his news from the internet.

I, on the other hand, don’t have a preference. I do enjoy both.

The stupid smile on my face widens when I notice he chose a pink tie for the day. That tie has Ella written all over it, of that, I have no doubt.

Then the smile drops from my face when I see the look of devastation on Sebastian’s face.

I also notice how he is looking through me, not at me.

Forgetting my current naked state, I move towards him. “What happened?” I can’t hide the panic that takes over me. “Is it Ellaiza?”

Sebastian looks down at me and then pushes a newspaper between us. “If you wanted to break my heart, darling. This was the way to do it.” My brows furrowed in confusion. I feel a pang in my chest at his tone. His words. Flipping the newspaper open, the Washington Weekly, my newspaper I read the headline.

History has a way of repeating itself… Sources close to President Kenton allege that his shady businesses, so much like his father, are the reason behind his attack outside of the Museum of Arts.

I want to throw up when I see side-by-side photos of Sebastian as a young boy being held back from his mother’s dead body on the ground and the other is of his attack. A photo of Sebastian covered in blood being lifted to the ambulance before he was transported to a hospital.

This is cruel.

Disgusting.

The type of news I would have never published in my newspaper.

Never.

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