Page 128 of Bid For Me
I barely have a moment to process his words before the blindfold is gone, the world flooding back in a haze of low light and him – Sebastian, all sharp angles and raw intensity, his gaze locked on mine like he’s daring me to look away. I blink against the sudden brightness, my breath hitching at the sheer hunger carved into his features.
His fingers brush my cheek, lingering, before they trail down to my jaw, tilting my face toward him. “Don’t close your eyes,” he murmurs, the command soft but firm. “I want to see everything. I wantyouto see everything.”
I nod weakly, my lips parting as he shifts lower, his lips trailing fire down my neck, over my collarbone, across my ribs. Each press of his mouth leaves a mark that feels like a brand, claiming me in a way that words never could.
When he reaches my thighs, he pauses, his hands spreading them wider. The cool air brushes against my slick skin, making me tremble. His gaze locks on mine again, dark and unyielding, as he leans in, his breath ghosting over the heat of me.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his voice roughened with desire. “So perfect. Do you know what you do to me?”
I shake my head, unable to form words, every nerve in my body attuned to the way his breath teases my most sensitive parts.
“I’ll show you,” he promises, and then his mouth is on me.
The first touch of his tongue is pure electricity, a slow, deliberate stroke between my folds that has my back arching off the bed. He hums in approval, the vibration sending another ripple of pleasure through me. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as his mouth works me over, licking and sucking with a precision that leaves me gasping.
“Seb!” I cry out, my hands fisting in the sheets. He looks up at me, his lips glistening, and the sight alone nearly sends me over the edge.
“Eyes on me,” he reminds me, his voice dark and commanding.
His fingers slide into me, curling in a way that has me seeing stars, and he watches my every reaction, his gaze locked on mine like he’s cataloging every moan, every tremble, every shattered breath.
The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers is too much, a perfect torment that has me teetering on the brink of release. He sucks on my clit, the pressure just right, and I cry out again, my body writhing beneath him.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against me, his voice a low rumble. “Come for me, Elle. Let me see you fall apart again.”
I can’t hold back. The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, my vision going white as my body convulses with pleasure. I can feel him watching me the entire time, his gaze burning into mine, as if he’s drawing strength from my surrender. He continues to lick and suck, kiss and curl his fingers in that delicious way, drawing my orgasm on and on and on.
When I finally come down, trembling and breathless, he presses a soft kiss to my inner thigh, his fingers easing out of me with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of what he’s just done.
“You’re stunning when you come undone,” he says, his voice a reverent whisper. “And I’m not done with you yet.”
Seb stands, his body a beautiful, powerful silhouette in the dim light as he slowly begins to strip. Every movement is deliberate, pulling my attention to him with a magnetic force I can’t resist. First, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing the hard, sculpted lines of his chest, covered in lines and whirls of ink. I itch to trace them with my fingers, lips and tongue. Themuscles shift beneath his skin as he pulls the shirt off, tossing it carelessly aside. My eyes trace every inch of him, from the sharp angles of his shoulders to the defined curve of his abdomen.
Then his belt, the heavy click of it echoing in the room as he slides it off, making me shiver with desire – I long to feel the painful kiss of the leather. Followed by his pants. Each piece of clothing falling away only brings him closer to me – naked, raw, and impossibly perfect. I swallow, my throat dry, the hunger inside me rising with every passing second.
He catches me staring, a smirk playing on his lips, and I can’t look away. His cognac eyes gleam with an intensity that sends a thrill straight to my core. Without a word, he walks to the side table where the champagne flutes sit, picking up the bottle with a casual ease. He pours and takes a sip, the liquid gliding down his throat, his gaze never leaving mine. The sight of him drinking, so composed and confident, stirs something deeper in me.
“Want some?” he asks, his voice low and husky, dripping with suggestion.
I nod, barely able to find my voice, my need for him escalating with every passing second.
Seb takes another drink, savoring the liquid before walking toward me. He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a brief, tantalising kiss. The taste of champagne lingers on his lips, a promise of what’s to come. Then, without warning, he pulls back, his hand tilting my chin up as he pours the cold liquid into my mouth.
I gasp as the cold champagne hits my tongue, the shock of it mixing with the heat of everything else that’s coursing through me. The liquid is bitter and sweet all at once, and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me as it slips down my throat. It’s a strange contrast – the coldness of the drink against the warmth of his body, the sweet burn of the alcohol mingling with the fire in my veins.
I swallow eagerly, eyes locked on his, feeling both vulnerable and empowered in this moment, my senses heightened. When I finish, Seb presses his lips to mine again, his kiss deeper this time, the taste of champagne mingling with his own, intoxicating in a way that has me clinging to him.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire, and I can see the flicker of satisfaction in them. And then he’s there, his body pressing against mine, his weight grounding me, his hands cradling my face. “Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my hips arching toward him. “Please, Bas. Don’t make me wait anymore.”
He positions himself, the head of his cock nudging at my entrance, and I moan, my body straining toward him. He pauses, just for a heartbeat, long enough to make me feel the full weight of the moment.
“Mine,” he murmurs, his voice rough and full of promise.
“Yours,” I echo, and then he pushes inside, filling me completely, utterly, perfectly.
I was made for him.