Page 51 of Sebastian's Secret

His. The concept pinballed inside her mind. I’m his.

“No,” she whispered, pushing herself to slow her breathing and calm down. She wasn’t his. She wasn’t anyone’s, but God, a part of her longed for the sense of possessive ownership, even though it made no sense to do so.

Rebecca had spent years bound to a corrupt and possessive man. The last thing she should crave was a guy who sought to emulate any facet of her father’s twisted malice, but deep down, she knew Sebastian wasn’t like Jonas. Sebastian brought kindness instead of cruelty, and respect over humiliation. He’d proven that he’d push her, but only when she had the right to say no.

Her father hadn’t heard the word no in a long time and at this point, she doubted he’d even know what it meant. Jonas would loathe Sebastian, would detest everything a man like him stood for, but the idea only fueled her desire.

Rebecca had given up on pleasing her father years before. She had accepted that however unsatisfactory it was, Jonas would never be content. He’d never be the wholesome and loving father she knew she deserved, would never be happy with his daughter or anything that she accomplished with her life. She accepted that she would never garner his approval. But sniffing back her tears, she knew it was more than that. She no longer even sought the man’s approval. She didn’t need him anymore.

Jonas was the baggage of her past, and though she loved him, her mother, and even Oliver, she was done with their bullshit. Hugging Sebastian’s letter to her chest, it had never been clearer. Rebecca needed more, she merited more, and whatever did or didn’t happen with the budding romance she was developing, it wouldn’t change her mind. Her days of playing Daddy’s bitter games were over.

Smiling, Rebecca rolled onto her back, her fingers gripping the note and lifting it above her face. She wanted Sebastian, couldn’t help it, and although she understood they’d made no commitment to each other, she longed for his embrace, his intoxicating scent—for all of him.

Swallowing down the sentiment, her eyes settled on the note. As she devoured more of his words, her free hand strayed between her legs, stroking her needy flesh.

Stay naked.

That was a promise she could easily keep, especially as her fingertips grazed over her clit. Arching to meet its silent need, she groaned, wishing that he was there already, and could take over from her frantic fingers.

I’ll be back soon.

She certainly hoped so. Rebecca hadn’t realized how horny she still was until that moment, as if the weight of her tangled family relationships had tarnished her arousal. But now that she was focused on her needs again, it was easy to release all thoughts of her father and think only of the man who’d brought her release and comfort.

“Sebastian.”

She called for him, and as her digits worked faster, the final few words of his note burgeoned her passion.

Be a good girl until then,

From your Sir

S

A line of x’s accompanied his initial. Rebecca’s eyelids flickered closed as the word danced in her head. He’d called himself her sir. Dropping the note to her chest, her fingers shifted to her exposed breast, cradling the mound before they worked her left nipple into a hard bullet.

“Fuck.”

Arching her back, she let out the guttural moan, consumed by her growing need. Fleetingly, a slither of recollection exploded in her mind, a memory of him asserting his right over her pleasure.

“Tell me who owns your orgasms?” His voice thundered in her head, taunting the rising tide of her desire.

In the haze of her carnality and her frantic desperation to be rid of the vibrator, she had vowed that the answer was Sebastian—that only he could bring her sexual fulfillment, but she hadn’t really meant it. Their words were only those of a couple engrossed in a game of power exchange. Nothing more. Sebastian didn’t own her orgasms. No one did, but the idea sure helped to stoke her fire.

“Oh, Sebastian.”

He had more than satisfied her last night, but now he was gone, and she didn’t know when he’d return. He couldn’t just expect her to sit there and wait, to be unfulfilled.

What was she supposed to do? This was his place and everywhere she looked, the signs of him haunted her. It was his sheets she was sprawled in, his scent surrounding her, and rubbing her clit even faster, she realized, it was the fact that she was in his bed that made the looming orgasm so damn naughty. Rebecca had pleasured herself before a thousand times, but never in someone else’s house, never in the throes of such early and volatile passion.

Biting down on her lip, she tried to capture the guttural groan that wanted to leave, but only partially contained the sound. The remaining energy seeped from her mouth, expressing how close she was to coming apart, but what it couldn’t convey was how it was Sebastian that filled her mind as she teetered there. His face that she envisaged, his soft commands that edged her ever closer to the precipice.

Balancing on the brink of ecstasy, she didn’t hear the soft tread from the hall, nor notice the door handle as it turned. Rebecca was as lost to carnality as she was oblivious to the incoming repercussions.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sebastian

When most people said that they flew home, it was a figurative term, but when Sebastian said it, he meant it. Leaving their Fireside lodge, he rocketed through the air to the outskirts of the city, before changing quickly in the Vaughn house that sat on the border of the urban jungle. With its secluded woodland estate, it was the perfect place to hide incoming winged beasts, but its proximity to the town meant that it took his Ferrari less than fifteen minutes to cut through the traffic and be back by Rebecca’s side. Like with many things in his life, Michael’s money had bought ease and luxury. It was, he supposed, why Sebastian had signed the contract at all.