Some Sort of Happy (Skylar and Sebastian): A Happy Crazy Love Novel (20 page)

He knelt on the bed again, legs apart, and took himself in his fist. Slowly he began working his hand up and down its thick, hard length. I was breathing hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “God. I could watch you all day.”

“I can still taste you.” His voice was low and gravelly. “You’re on my tongue, like honey.”

“Oh, God.” Desire ignited again inside me. I sat all the way up, knees wide, one hand moving between my legs. “I’m so wet. You’ve got me dripping.”

“Yes,” he hissed, his jaw clenched. His hand moved faster. “Drip all over your fingers. Let me watch.”

Without tearing my eyes from his body, I rubbed my clit in hard, steady circles, widening my knees and arching my back. The second orgasm built even quicker than the first, gathering momentum inside a minute. “Christ,” I whispered, working my fingers faster, watching the muscles in Sebastian’s abs and forearm and shoulder flex. “You’re going to make me come again. And you’re not even touching me.”

A few seconds later his body was sprawled over mine, his cock pushing easily inside my slick wet center. “I can’t take it, you’re too beautiful,” he whispered, driving deep. “And I’ve thought of this so many times—I can’t have you in my bed and not be inside you.”

“I want you inside me.” I clawed his back, his arms, his ass, digging my fingers into his flesh, pulling him closer. “You feel so good there.” And he did—so good I was starting to panic this was the best sex I’d ever have and I’d never feel this way again. What if this was a one-time deal? What if tomorrow the voice in his head told him he’d smother me in my sleep if I stayed the night? He reached behind me, tilting my hips up so he could rub the hard base of his cock against my clit as he rocked into me. I was both amazed and terrified by his skill, by his size, by the way he knew exactly what I needed to feel. Deep inside me, something began to tighten.

Too deep.

That
deep.

Oh Jesus. Oh no.

Please, please don’t let Sebastian Pryce own the one cock that can reach The Spot.

But he did. The tip of Sebastian’s cock was hitting The Spot, territory uncharted, unknown, unreachable by all prior cock owners who’d attempted to scale the surrounding heights.

This couldn’t be.

No! No! No!

“Yes, yes, yes,” I breathed against his neck, my entire lower body seizing up, my nails clawing at his skin. Fucking hell, Sebastian…you’re so amazing and generous and hard and deep and fuck—“Oh God, you’re perfect. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“Never,” he growled, thrusting faster and tighter to me. “Come again for me, let me feel you.”

My second climax hit me hard, and I dropped my head to the side, mouth open, gasping as my core muscles tightened around him, again and again and again.

He came before my orgasm had even ended, throbbing long and deep inside me, his body going plank stiff above me. My hands felt the muscles in his ass flexing, causing a fresh wave of contractions in my lower body, and I rode them out on a long, blissful sigh.

Perfection.

Perfection.

Every moment.

From the front seat of my truck (who’d have guessed Skylar Nixon had a dirty mouth?) to the hammock (her hair pouring like liquid gold through my fingers) to my bedroom (better than any fantasy I’d ever had about her, and certainly better than any reality I’d ever experienced), every single second with Skylar had been perfect.

I’d been able to stay in the moment ever since she’d agreed to come home with me, so focused on her that there was no room in my mind for anything else. It was enough to make me utter those two little words to myself, the scariest two words I knew…
What if
? Only this time, the words didn’t frighten me because I was anxious about causing harm—the question wasn’t What if I hurt her? The question was What if I could make her happy?

And that was fucking terrifying.

How had she done it? I lay atop her now, our bodies still connected, our breathing still synced, our skin still slick, and wondered what spell she had cast to make me think after just two days that she could be mine and I could be hers and we could have this little place in the woods on the water where no one would bother us? Where we would love each other and explore each other and hurt each other and forgive each other and find grace in one another’s bodies and souls? Surely there had to be something enchanted about tonight—some sort of witchcraft that was bound to fade and break once the sun came up.

Because I knew better than anyone that this feeling never lasts, not for people like me. It’s an illusion that makes you feel good for a time, but it makes the fall that much worse when you realize it was only a tease.
See what it could be like? See what you can’t have?

Skylar shifted beneath me, and reluctantly I rolled off her, stretching out on my back, hands behind my head. I locked my fingers together, refusing to let myself touch her the way I wanted to. Expecting her to get out of bed, I was surprised when she turned toward me and laid her cheek on my arm. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, but I couldn’t—I had to steel myself for the inevitable crash that was coming after such a high. I closed my eyes, inhaled and exhaled, desperately trying not to think about how hurt she was going to be when I pushed her away again.

She lay next to me for a minute before nudging my side. “Hey.”

“What?”

“What are you thinking?”

That I wish tonight would last forever. That I knew how to love someone without disappointing her. That I believed in happily ever after.
“Nothing. I’m tired.” Her disappointed “oh” softened my heart, but I willed iron into it. “I should take you back.”

Slowly, she sat straight up. Looked at me in disbelief. “That’s it?”

“What’s it?” Like I didn’t know.

“That’s it for tonight? I don’t want to leave you, come home with me, I’m so glad you’re here…and after everything we did tonight, all you can say is I should take you back?” She threw my words back at me.

“Yeah. I guess so.” I shifted uncomfortably. “You were expecting something else?”

“Oh my God. Whatever. Fine.” She got off the bed and scooped her panties off the floor, stepping into them before throwing her dress over her head. The silhouette of her curvy breasts and hips against the window made my jaw clench. “Your sheets are a mess,” she said, fluffing that cloud-of-gossamer hair I loved. “Do you have a spare set to sleep on?”

“I have seven spare sets.”

She stopped moving and looked at me. “You have eight sets of sheets?” Then she threw her hands up. “What am I thinking? Of course you do. Do you want help stripping the bed?”

“No.” Did she think I didn’t want to sleep with her honey-and-almond scent next to my skin? I knew it was my soap she’d used but damn if it had ever smelled that good on me.

“OK then. I’ll meet you in the car.” She went for the ladder and started down.

Fuck. FUCK.

“Skylar, wait.” I sat up, dragged a hand over my hair. “Don’t go.”

“Too late, asshole.” She continued down the ladder and I heard her jump to the floor.

“Fuck!” I thumped a fist into the mattress, hard. Then I did it again, and again. I knew I shouldn’t take my frustration with myself out on her, but if I didn’t harden my heart against the what ifs, they’d drag me under. She’d drag me under. I’d be fooled again into thinking I was capable of being the person a woman like her deserved, of loving her the way she needed to be loved. And I knew—
I knew
—I wasn’t.

So fuck the big, sad ending. I could stop this bleeding at the source, and I would.

Angry and sad, I threw my clothes on and jogged out to the truck, where she was already waiting in the passenger seat, legs tight together, arms crossed. I knew she was really mad because it was the first time she was totally silent for more than five minutes. We were almost to her parents’ place when finally she broke down.

“I’m sorry,” she said shortly, her tone cold.

I glanced at her, but her pose hadn’t changed. “What are you sorry about?”

“For thinking I could do this. It’s too frustrating. You’re too frustrating. You’re hot and cold too fast.”

I pressed my lips together. Stared straight ahead.

“This is what I mean!” She glared at me but I kept my eyes on the road. “If you’d just tell me what’s going on in your head, maybe I could help!” she snapped.

God, she was so maddening—how could I explain that I had to keep her at a distance for both our sakes?

“You told me earlier today that you wanted to let me in. To give you time to let me in.” Her voice had softened a little. “And I wanted to. I was willing to. It was you who asked for more tonight.”

She was right. I felt some of my hardness crumbling, and I fought back. “Look, this is me. This is what I do. And if it’s too frustrating for you, then it’s better to end this now.”

“End what? We never started.” She looked away from me again.

A few minutes later, I pulled in her parents’ driveway. She had her hand on the door handle before I even put the truck in park.

“If you just wanted the lay, Sebastian, you could have said so,” she said bitterly. “You’re a great fuck.”

Then she jumped out, slammed the door and marched angrily over to her little house. When she disappeared inside without even pulling out a key, I realized she hadn’t even locked it tonight.
Damn it, Skylar! You should lock your doors!
The ferocious need to protect her growled and bit at me beneath my skin, and I thumped the steering wheel hard twice, fighting the urge to go make sure it was secure now.

The urge won. Furious, I strode to her door and tried the handle. Locked.

“Fuck you!” I heard her cry from inside. “Go away!”

Back in the truck, I threw it in reverse and tore out of there, tires spinning.

• • •

When I got home, it was after midnight. I went straight up to the loft, where her scent still lingered. After undressing, I lay on my stomach atop the sheets where she’d offered herself up to me, no questions asked. I closed my eyes and she appeared…sultry and brazen as she straddled me in the truck, shivering and sweet as she lay with me in the hammock, hotter than fuck sprawled under me in my bed.

Hurt and angry on the ride home.

Groaning, I punched the pillow twice and flipped over onto my back, staring at the sloping ceiling as my thoughts turned resentful.

Did she really think I’d used her just for sex? How could she, when I’d confessed to her how I used to feel about her ten years ago? When I’d told her today I wanted to let her in but needed time? Did she think I hadn’t meant the things I’d said?

It was just like a woman to say she understood about needing to give a guy time and then demand to know his feelings at every turn. What the fuck did she expect from me? I’d told her before things even got physical with us that I was bad at relationships and not interested in one. What else was there to tell her? If she didn’t want to hang out anymore, fine. Good. I didn’t need her. I didn’t need anyone. Better to be alone than a constant disappointment to someone.

At least she thought I was a great fuck.