Touched By The Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 3)

“I want to make you come first,” he says, hot and rough into my ear. “Want you nice and ready for me. Tell me,” he demands, nibbling at my earlobe. “Tell me you want it.”

I buck my hips into his hardness, feeling it against where I’m hot and already wet. “I want it,” I breathe, voice trembling.

He props himself up on an arm to look at me, hand feathering my hair back from my forehead. “Don’t let me fuck it up, okay? If I do something... I can stop.” At the look on my face—Christ, if he stops, I might actually fucking die—he quickly amends, “I can do better, I mean. I can do it the way you want, you just have to tell me.”

I give a rapid nod. “Yeah, okay.”

With that, he finally drags my panties down my legs, resting back on his heels to gaze down at me. He smooths his hands up my thighs, and maybe it’s because of what we did last night—because he’s already seen me—but I don’t feel that urge to curl up into myself anymore. If anything, I want to spread myself wider for him.

So that’s what I do.

His eyes drop down to my pussy and he groans, voice low and ragged. “Damn, girl. How do you want it? You want my fingers or my mouth?”

I feel the warmth of a flush spread all the way down my chest when I respond, “Yes.”

He instantly moves back to get his mouth on me, hooded eyes fixed to mine as his tongue licks a wide path up my folds. I make this awful, mortifying keen that has me clamping a hand over my own mouth.

He reaches up to tug it away. “Fuck that, let me hear you.”

I know it’s just us here. I know from the tour earlier that his mom is so far away, a gun could probably go off in here and no one would know. Nevertheless, when he sinks a finger into me, tongue working over my clit, it’s still hard to push away the instinct to muffle my whimper.

Because this is Sebastian between my legs, it’s almost like he takes it as a challenge, holding my gaze as he tongues at my clit in a rapid bout of flicks, finger pumping in and out of me.

It’s not long before I give in, completely unable to hold it back anymore. I dig my heels into the bed, head thrown back into the pillow as loud cries spill from my lips, arching into him. He grunts against me when my fingers fist into his hair, but I know it’s not out of pain. He pulls back every few seconds to watch his finger moving inside me, muttering strained curses, before diving right back d

own to assault me with more of that wicked tongue torture.

Mere minutes later, I come with a sharp gasp, so surprised by the intensity of it that I have to fist my hands in the bedsheets just to feel any sense of being grounded. Sebastian is ruthless as he chases me through the shudders, watchful eyes flashing with heat, working me like an instrument until I’m a mess of squirming whines.

I collapse into the bed, breathless, like all my strings have been cut, but Sebastian is anything but. His movements are tightly controlled as he rises back up onto his knees, shoving his boxers from his hips. I watch in a daze when his hard cock springs free, bouncing with his movements as he yanks them off his legs.

His eyes travel down my naked, spent body like a trail of flames. “Fuck me, you’re so hot like this.” His hand runs up my thigh, over my hip. He must have found that box of condoms at some point, because he’s holding one in his other hand. “You’re hot all the time, but like this, all fucked out from my tongue, in my bed? Goddamn, girl.”

He’s still transfixed when he rips open the wrapper, resting back on his heels to roll the condom over his erection. It’s a smooth, practiced motion, and when he gives his covered dick a stroke, I tug his hand away, replacing it with my own.

Fuck, he’s big.

“Fuck, you’re big.” I instantly regret saying it. The boneless, ‘fucked-out’ feeling is nice, but the part where I lose my own brain-to-mouth filter leaves something to be desired.

His mouth curls into that slow, self-obsessed grin of his. “Think I’m hung, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve only touched a couple dicks before.”

He bends down, meeting my lips with a slick, open-mouthed kiss. I think I can taste myself on his lips, his tongue, and the spark in my belly is already trying to come back to life. “Come on,” he says, nosing beneath my chin. “Can’t you indulge my ego, just this once?”

I fight down a smile, feeling ticklish when his fingers graze too lightly over my ribs. “I already said you were big.”

He reaches between us to run his fingers through my slickness, saying, “Doesn’t matter. I can already feel how wet you are for me.” He sinks a finger into me again, slow and testing, and I can feel his cock surge in my hand. Despite the playful mood, there’s no missing the tightness of his jaw, or the way he impatiently knees up into the cradle of my legs, brows crushed together. “You feel ready. Are you?”

I take a deep breath, carding my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “I’m ready.”

I feel him take himself in hand, guiding his dick to where I’m wet and open for him. Despite my assurances, he still watches me closely as he pushes forward, sinking his dick slowly into me.

It’s nothing like that first time, which had felt a bit like being split open—a long, arduous sting that never quite ended. With Sebastian, it’s like being filled up, holding something inside me that I hadn’t even realized was missing.

My jaw falls slack on a gasp at the feel of it, and he breathes out a low, “Fuck yes,” as he sinks deeper and deeper, inch by inch, until there’s no space between us. He rests low on his forearms, letting me feel our chests pressed together as I get used to the stretch of him. Curling an arm over my head, he sweeps my hair back, planting a sweet, lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“You good?” he asks, and even though his eyes are lazy with that lust-sex-glaze, lips loose as they pluck leisurely at my own, I can tell from the way his muscles flex and roll that he’s holding himself back. “Need a minute?”