Page 87 of When We Ignite
“Not as much as you want to touch me,” I quipped, clinging to the last scraps of my dignity.
Sebastian chuckled, his lips curving into a smile. “You have no idea.”
Before I could respond, he kissed me again, his lips claiming mine with a kind of hunger that left me breathless. I wasn’t expecting his hand to snake between us, brushing over me with a deliberate graze of his knuckles.
The kiss broke as he smiled, his face filled with something between amusement and astonishment. “And here I was thinking I’d have to get you into this,” he murmured, his eyes half-lidded as they met mine. “You couldn’t be more fucking perfect if you tried.”
Before I could form a coherent thought, he kissed me again, his hand closing over my shaft. His touch was firm but exploratory, mapping me out like he wanted to memorize every detail. The pressure was maddeningly soft at first, and I found myself keeping my hips still against my will. Then he tightened his grip, running his thumb over the head, and I bit my tongue to stifle the sound threatening to escape.
He stroked me with confidence, his movements skilled, and I started losing focus on everything except the feel of his hand. I was used to tentative touches or overeager ones—neither giving me the same kind of pleasure I could bring myself. Sebastian’s touch was entirely different. In a few strokes, he was already putting my own efforts to shame.
“Why aren’t you letting me hear you?” he whispered, his voice gentle but insistent.
I closed my eyes tightly, frustrated by how quickly he’d picked up on my restraint. Just as I was about to offer some sarcastic retort, he adjusted his pace, hitting just the right rhythm, and a moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it.
“Much better,” he murmured, his tongue grazing my lips before he pulled back slightly.
I bit down on my lip, trying to regain control, but he reached up, his fingers brushing my chin to make me look at him.
“Stop doing that,” he said, a crease forming between his brows.
“I have a roommate,” I argued weakly.
Sebastian shook his head. “I’m not asking you to scream, but don’t push it all down. I want to hear you—I need to,” he said, punctuating the demand with a soft kiss. His hand resumed its movements, and I gasped, pressing my forehead to his.
“Like that,” he murmured approvingly, his voice a low rumble as he kissed me again.
Then he tried to shift me onto my back, but I resisted.
“Don’t,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sebastian paused, his hand stilling as he studied me. “What are you embarrassed about?” he asked, his tone gentle but curious. “Do you think I’m kidding when I tell you how good you look?”
I shook my head, my eyes darting away from his. “I’m just…” I began, but the words stuck in my throat. I hesitated, then glanced down between us, my face burning, before looking back at him.
Understanding flickered in his eyes, and he chuckled softly.
“I knew you were going to laugh,” I mumbled, trying to hide my face in the pillow.
“It’s absurd that you’re embarrassed about being hard,” he said, his voice warm with reassurance. “I want you to feel good—remember?”
I hummed in acknowledgment, still too mortified to respond.
“And do you honestly think I’m immune to you?” he continued. “Do you think I can lie here, touching you, kissing you, hearing you, and not be hard as a rock?”
I glanced at him skeptically, but Sebastian chuckled again, grabbing my hand and guiding it between us. My knuckles brushed over him, still restrained by his briefs, but there was no mistaking the evidence of his arousal.
“See? This is what you do to me,” he said softly. “You have nothing to be embarrassed of. So, will you let me face you now?”
He let go of my hand, pressing more kisses to my lips as he waited for my answer.
I closed my eyes and nodded.
Sebastian smiled against my lips and resumed his touch, stroking me firmly as he settled between my legs. His lips moved to my jaw, then to my neck, his hand never faltering. The new angle heightened everything, and a moan escaped before I could stop it.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, my face burning with embarrassment. Sebastian froze for a moment before gently pulling my hand away.
“Ethan,” he said, his tone serious. I met his gaze, his dark eyes holding mine. “Your roommate isn’t going to hear you—it’s three in the morning. Now stop that.”
