Reina remains calm, too, as she silently chews her salad before she addresses me. “It’s not like you want to join us, anyway, is it?”
“No, thanks. My bitch battery is full for the day.” Now that I’ve had my fill of him and made sure that this is reality, I can head to the garden and eat in peace.
I turn to leave when a strong hand wraps around my wrist and brings me to a screeching halt.
My lips part as I stare back at Sebastian and then his hold on me. He’s grabbing me like when we’re alone, savagely, without giving me any room…
My thoughts trail off when his assertive voice echoes in the air, “But I want you to stay, baby.”
Silence falls over the table.
It takes everything in me not to die of embarrassment then and there. No matter how much I think myself above the social game, even I can’t handle being doted on and called ‘baby’ in front of all his entitled friends.
Most of them hate me.
Lucy squirms in her seat, then her eyes meet mine and it’s like they’re begging me to do something. What, I don’t know.
“She doesn’t have a place to sit,” Brianna snaps, twisting her pink lips in obvious disapproval.
“Yes, she does.” He tugs on my wrist until I drop onto his lap. I gasp as I land straight against a warm bulge.
He’s…hard.
Oh, God. At what point during the conversation did he become this hard?
Sebastian’s arms loop around my waist so he’s spooning me from behind. I shift, entirely unfamiliar with the position, but he casually tightens his hold around me. If I’d planned to leave, there’s no way I’d be able to do that now.
Brianna is grumbling about something and Owen is changing the subject, but I can’t for the life of me decipher what they’re saying.
All I’m tuned to is his warmth at my back, the rise and fall of his chest, and his cock that’s throbbing against my ass cheeks.
Or maybe it’s my core that’s pulsing.
I think I’m going insane, because all I can imagine right now is him inside me.
All over me.
Taking me with no mercy.
Sebastian slides his plate in front of me. “Eat.”
“I’d rather we talk,” I whisper, staring back at him.
He brushes his nose against my cheek and I shudder. “Then talk.”
“Not here. Somewhere private.”
He pauses, and I’m not sure if he’s reading the desperation in my gaze or not, but then he murmurs in a dark tone, “The forest. At seven.”
I gulp as images from that weekend assault me all over again. It takes all of my will to ask, “Why at seven?”
He strokes my cheek with his nose, making me shiver. “Because it’s night and you become my whore at night.”
19
Sebastian
It’s not supposed to be like this.