Gramercy Nights (The Argo Press Trilogy Book 1) (25 page)

“If you hated him so much, why work for him?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he answers at last.

“You always have a choice.”

Sebastian just shakes his head sadly. “Not always. I did my penance and left as soon as I could. The money I made helped me start Argo, so in the end, it was worth it.”

His candor surprises me and he just looks at me, unflinchingly, daring me to ask him more.

“What happened to your mother?”

“Car accident. When I was twelve.”

His face is calm, impassive, but I know instinctively that it’s a mask, one that he’s spent years perfecting.

“I’m so sorry,” I barely whisper, at a loss for what else to say. How many times have I wanted to scream when people said those very words to me and yet, here I am, repeating them because I can’t think of anything else to say, anything to convey the deep sadness I feel for him. I was eighteen when mom died and it nearly destroyed me. Sebastian was just a child and I can’t imagine how that must have felt.

“Tell me about her,” I say softly and Sebastian sighs, lifting his glass but never taking a sip. His thoughtful expression breaks my heart, because I know he’s struggling to remember her.

“She was kind and loving and beautiful. The antithesis of my father. Every summer, we’d spend the entire month of August in this little town near Montseny, near where she grew up. Just the three of us. She always insisted my father took the whole month off. No business. It was the only time he ever took off. I remember thinking it was heaven. One month when I had my parents to myself.

“One night, after a party, my parents got into a fight. They fought a lot, but this was different. I was supposed to be upstairs, asleep, but I’d come down for some reason. Maybe their voices had woken me. I don’t remember. The next thing I knew, the door was slamming shut and my mother had stormed out. I wanted to go after her, but I didn’t. I didn’t want my parents knowing I’d snuck out of bed. I thought I’d get in trouble. The next morning, the police came to the door and told us she was dead. It was a car accident.”

I reach my hand out and place it on top of Sebastian’s, squeezing it lightly.

“I should have gone after her,” he whispers. “I should have stopped her. Instead, I snuck back into bed. My father closed up the house and we never went back. I never forgave him. If he hadn’t been such an asshole, she wouldn’t have left that night. She wouldn’t have gotten into that fucking car. She wouldn’t be dead.”

“I blamed my father, too,” I admit, making Sebastian look up at me suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

I shrug. I’ve never told anyone this before. “It’s stupid, but if he hadn’t left us, mom wouldn’t have been working so much. Maybe she would have gone to a doctor sooner. If she’d known about the cancer earlier, maybe…” I trail off and Sebastian gives me an understanding nod and we just hold hands, neither one of us breaking the heavy silence the falls between us.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sebastian clears the table in silence. Beneath his perfectly groomed exterior, I can see the pain. I never expected Sebastian and I to have anything in common, other than a fondness for a relatively obscure romance language, but I was wrong.

The pain he feels, I feel. I know exactly what it’s like to hate the person you are meant to love. The person who is meant to love you back. Unconditionally. Forever. I can’t imagine anything so terrible it could possibly force me back into my father’s life.

Penance. That’s what Sebastian called it. It’s a strange word to use, but I’ve come to know Sebastian well enough by now to know it was exactly the word that he intended.

I’d expected a light-hearted evening, but now a grim cloud hangs over the room. Reluctantly, I get up and go to the fridge. I bought dessert from a little French bakery near Union Square, just a small chocolate tart that I thought would make a nice finish to the dinner I planned.

Staring down at the dainty little tart in its cream colored box, it seems silly. Too frivolous a way to end the night. I leave the little box on the table. Sebastian is at the sink, rinsing our plates and I come over, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my cheek to his back.

“What’s that for?” he asks, startled.

“I just wanted to hug you,” I mumble into the warmth of his shirt.

For a moment, Sebastian says nothing, but I feel him relax into my arms, his hands coming to find mine, holding them to his chest.

Sebastian has been inside of me, but right now, I can’t think of anything more intimate than having my arms wrapped around him as he holds my hands.

Finally, he peels my hands off him and turns around to face me. Gone is the sadness in his eyes. His eyes flick over to the table then return to me.

“You brought dessert?”

I shrug, feeling suddenly embarrassed. He peers into the box. “We don’t have to eat it.”

“My father has ruined enough in my life. He’s not ruining tonight.” There’s a stubbornness to his voice and I realize I want to be the thing that makes him forget about his father. About all that pain.

“Dark chocolate,” he practically purrs. “My favorite. Let me grab some champagne. I got you something,” he says, popping the cork out of the bottle. “It’s in my briefcase.”

I purse my lips. “Don’t you think you’ve bought me enough?”

He shrugs, filling two champagne flutes. “I don’t think I could ever buy you enough,” he says without looking at me. “But don’t worry, this is just as much for me as it is for you. Come on. Go get my briefcase.” His words intrigue me. What sort of gift is as much for him as it is for me? I flush, thinking of the corset hugging my body. Yes, I’m definitely intrigued. “It’s right on top,” he says as I kneel beside his fancy leather briefcase.

There, resting on top of his papers, is a small black jewelry box. A cold sweat breaks across my skin. It’s not that I’m expecting a diamond ring or anything, but the thought briefly flashes through my mind and I don’t like it.

It’s one thing for his assistant to buy me lingerie. It’s quite another for him to buy me jewelry.

“It’s not going to bite. Bring it over, I want to see your face when you open it.” He sounds totally calm. If anything, I’d say he actually sounds amused.

I put the box down in front of me on the table, eyeing it suspiciously. My least favorite thing about birthdays and Christmas was always the part about opening presents, trying to match your expression to whatever is expected. Sebastian slides my champagne flute across the table and I take it thankfully. I realize presents should make me happy or excited or whatever I’m supposed to feel, but they don’t. They make me sick to my stomach.

Sebastian leans back, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Are you planning to stare at it all night?” He’s trying hard to keep a straight face, but I can tell he’s laughing at my clearly panicked expression.

“I don’t like presents,” I mumble, which only makes Sebastian laugh.

“Come on, please,” he cajoles.

“Fine.” I take a large sip of champagne and flip open the box, nearly choking when I see what’s inside. It’s definitely
not
jewelry.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Nestled into the black satin lining is a metal teardrop shaped butt plug. I blink several times to make sure I’m actually seeing it. I can feel Sebastian studying my face for a reaction.

“You bought me a butt plug?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice.

“I did.”

I run a finger along the cool metal. “It’s beautiful,” I exhale, lifting it gingerly from the box, feeling its surprising weight in the palm of my hand, the metal cool against my warm skin.

When I finally tear my eyes away, Sebastian is watching me carefully. “Have you ever used one?”

“No,” I whisper hoarsely.

“But you’ve thought about it?”

“Yes.” I blink. His words start a dull throbbing at my core and I lick my lips nervously. He’s so calm. So collected as he discusses the most intimate things and I envy his poise. “I’ve never…”

Sebastian gives me a wicked smile, anticipating my objection. “You seemed to like it when I had my finger in your ass last night.”

His candor, coupled with the memory of last night, make my cheeks flush. He toys with the stem of his champagne flute. “I want every part of you. I want to take your ass and I love knowing I’ll be your first.”

I squirm under the heat of his gaze, the intensity of his desire. Suddenly, dessert is the last thing on my mind. I glance once more at the heavy toy in my hand, watching it glint in the candlelight before reaching across the table and dropping it into his open palm.

“Okay.” I want to know what it would feel like, stretching me, filling me. I want to feel everything that Sebastian has planned for me. Every naughty thing that I’ve only ever dreamed about, that I never thought could be real.

Sebastian closes his fingers over the toy, enveloping it in his large hand. “Fuck dessert,” he says, pushing back his chair and standing. The outline of his dick is visible through his dress pants and I lick my lips hungrily.

He guides me to the bedroom, the sound of blood rushing in my ears, every nerve in my body sizzling. Somehow, Sebastian always seems to know exactly what I want, what I need. It’s as though he can read my mind, seeking out the darkest reaches of my fantasies. I want this. God, do I want this.

Sebastian places the toy on the end of the bed and goes to the bedside table while I pull my dress eagerly over my head, tossing it aside, my eyes glued on the toy. When he sees me, dressed in nothing but the sumptuous corset, stockings and heels, his eyes widen.

“I think I owe my assistant a bonus,” he says, grinning. He tosses a bottle of lube onto the bed and pulls me into a powerful kiss, his free hands trailing down my back and clutching my ass, kneading my flesh. I feel his erection digging into my hip, hard and insistent.

He yanks the elastic out of my hair, letting it cascade around my shoulders.

“Get on your knees and lean over the bed,” he says, releasing me with a final kiss. It’s sweet and tender, a gentle reminder that I’m safe with him.

I blink my eyes before dropping soundlessly to my knees, resting my corseted torso against the comforter. Sebastian nudges my knees apart with his foot and I comply, squirming slightly.

“Reach your arms out and grip the duvet. I don’t want you to move, understand?”

I nod, the cool power of his voice driving me crazy. With my cheek pressed to the bed, I have to rely on only my hearing. The sound of a door opening. Feet moving across the floor. A zipper. More precise footsteps. All the while, I struggle to keep my breathing even.

The mattress shifts under Sebastian’s weight and I sigh. One delicate finger trails along my shoulder blades, his touch filled with promise. I squeeze my eyes shut. I hear a clicking and I struggle to place the sound. It’s familiar and yet…

“What are you doing?” I ask when I can’t keep my curiosity to myself any longer.

Abruptly, the sound stops and the room is once again silent, the only sound my ragged breathing.

“Clipping my nails,” he says finally, before adding, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Goose bumps break out across my skin. He continues, unhurried, and I know I’ll never, ever, be able to look at nail clippers in the same way. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the clicking stops and Sebastian gets to his feet.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice choked with some unknown emotion. “I could look at you all day. If I were an artist, I’d paint you. Just as you are in this moment. The fear and excitement, the way your body trembles. But no artist could ever capture your true beauty.”

“Sebastian.” This anticipation is killing me, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. I feel his hands on my thighs, spreading me. My sex is exposed, wet and waiting. And in this position, I am his to take. Open for him. Vulnerable. He sinks to the ground behind me, placing a kiss to the swell of my hip.

“I didn’t realize how hard I’d spanked you,” he says thoughtfully and I know he’s considered my bruised flesh. “It suits you,” he says finally and I let out a sigh of relief.

Then his fingers are trailing down my cleft, pausing momentarily over my opening before continuing lower, finding my soaking pussy.

“I love how wet you are. Your body is so ready.”

“I’m always ready for you,” I admit, sucking in a breath as he slowly glides one finger into my waiting sex, teasing me. He knows it isn’t enough. He knows exactly what I need. I want all of him.

“You’re going to be so tight when I finally fuck you.”

I groan as another long finger joins the one already inside me, fucking my gently, spreading my juices, lavishing attention on my clit until I’m arching back into him, begging him with my body to fuck me, to let me come.

“Sebastian, please.”

He lets out a soft chuckle as my body sags, suddenly bereft of his teasing fingers. “Not yet. This will be inside you when I finally let you come.”

I groan in frustration, amazed by how well he knows my body, how he can control my every response to him.

“Spread your ass for me.”