Page 42 of The Spice Play

“Seb,” I groaned in frustration, placing a hand against his chest to playfully push him before realizing there was literally nowhere for him to go exceptthrougha glass door. “I’m sure there are…thingsyou like that we didn’t do last night.”

He rolled his eyes, his fingers snaking up the edge of the towel to where I’d tucked it in above my breasts. “Of coursethere are,” he relented. “But those aren’t things I’d expect of you. I get the majority of my pleasure from pleasing you.”

I dragged my hand down his chest, the feeling still a little foreign, but I came to a stop just above the waistband of his pajama bottoms. “But without that,” I swallowed, hooking my fingers on the elastic, “what do you like?”

He let out a breathy chuckle, his thumb catching my lip again and rubbing it against my teeth. “Your mouth,” he said, his voice gravely as his eyes followed the movement of my lip. “Both in the way you speak to me, and the way your tongue would feel.”

Thatwas the one thing I was somewhat confident about with regard to my skills.

Morris had never complained about that aspect in particular, and from the number of times he’d had me drop to my knees for him, I could only assume it was the one thing I was good enough at to keep him coming back time and time again.

“But I don’t want you to do that for me unless it genuinely excites you,” Seb clarified. “If you’re wanting to only because you think it’ll make me happy, it won’t. I don’t want you doing something just for me if you get nothing out of it.”

I shook my head, taking his hold with me. “I want to because the idea of doing somethingfor youis exciting.” He raised a single brow and pushed off from the glass, forcing me to walk backward toward the couch behind me. “Fine, it turns me on. Happy?”

“As a fuckin’ clam,” he smirked.

His mouth met mine while he kept us moving backward, his hand splaying out on my cheek and keeping me flush against his lips. Step by step, I went, until my knees hit the edge and he helped me regain my balance, until heurged me down onto the cushion, until he loomed over me, his shirt halfway up his chest, his unwillingness to stop kissing me the only thing standing in the way of getting it off him.

“Toys,” he grunted against my lips. “Where?”

“Bedroom,” I answered, parting just enough to finally get his shirt up and over his head.Christ, just looking at him, seeing every bit of well-earned muscle and mass, it was like he was carved from fucking stone, like myths should be made of him. It was insane.

He growled his disapproval to have to part, and before I could protest and insist that hands were more than enough, he was pulling his warmth away and stalking off to the bedroom.

Oh, God.

He’d see them all if he looked.

“Seb!” I shouted, scrambling off the couch in my towel and losing it on the journey. I dashed for the doorway, but by the time I was able to catch up, he was standing by the edge of the bed with the nightstand’s drawer fully open.

He looked at me over his shoulder, a sneaky little smirk tugging his lips up. Heat warmed my cheeks and between my thighs instantly. “Someone’s got a collection.”

I gulped. “I went through a phase?—”

“Which one’s your favorite, Nelly?” he grinned, his hand ducking into the drawer and lifting out what was definitely the girthiest, longest dildo out of the nine I had — the one I was positive was about the same size as him. “Is it this one?”

In response to my utter silence, he tossed it onto the bed in my direction.

“Wand or suction?” he asked.

Oh, my God, I wanted to die. “There’s… uh, there’s one that hooks?—”

He huffed out a laugh. “I see it.” His hand disappeared again, and I swallowed the overproduction of saliva in my mouth as he pulled out the little C-shaped vibrator. “You’re going to fucking melt.”

Before I could reply, he tossed it on the bed and shut the drawer, stepped toward me, and stopped on top of the plush carpet at the end of the bed.

“If you’re so eager to touch me,” he started, his voice dropping low as he wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, “then get on your knees, Penelope.”

He pushed down, putting pressure on the top of my right shoulder with his forearm, and I followed his lead without a second thought. My knees hit the carpet and I looked up at him, tracking every little movement as he squatted down in front of me like he often did with Matty.

But the way he was looking at me was so beautifully, perfectly different.

“What happened to your towel, Nelly?” he mused. His fingertips brushed against the underside of my breast, sending little sparks of heat rippling across my skin and sinking lower, lower,lower. My breath hitched as my pussy clenched aroundnothing, the need for stimulation swarming me and making me ache. “Were you just so excited that you left it behind?”

I swallowed. “Something like that.”

He huffed out an amused breath and played with the wet hair at the base of my skull, his fingers twisting in it. “Spread your knees for me,” he said, dropping the hand that had been exploring my chest down to my left thigh. “Sit on your heels.”

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