Sebastian - Secrets (10 page)

The kids are in the car and, after Alan bids me a curt goodbye, I drive to my mother’s house.  I kiss and hug my children and mother, feeling a pang of guilt as I do so.  Then I am on my way and I haven’t felt so excited since I was a teenager.  I feel I may burst.

P
enmorrow is even more spectacular than I remember.  Perhaps because I won’t be sharing it with countless other women, it seems even more inviting. 

I drive slowly up the tree-lined drive and the butterflies in my tummy are doing back flips.  I park and cut the engine and step from my car. 

As I take my small suitcase from the trunk, I inhale the salty sea air – it is invigorating and rejuvenating, and my troubles seem a million miles away.  I hesitate at the imposing oak door of the austere house, before raising the lions’ head and knocking loudly.  Stepping back I expect to be greeted by Slave Girl, but instead Sebastian throws open the door.  I hold my breath and look at this man and in that moment I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything before. 

7

We don’t speak. Instead he takes me in his arms and hugs me tightly before kissing my hair.  He smells so good, I breathe in his manly scent.  Taking my suitcase from me, he takes my hand and leads me into the house.  I hesitate in the hall but he has a firm, commanding grip on my hand.  He puts my suitcase down next to the fireplace in the vast hall, and continues walking and I follow submissively.

Sebastian purposefully treads each stair, still gripping my hand he leads me up the Gothic looking staircase with cast-iron balustrade.  We reach the top stair and he leads me to the left, underneath a vast octagonal lantern and down a long straight passageway off which are several closed doors.  He stops at the fourth door on the left and turns the handle, pushing open the heavy oak door and I follow him.

Sebastian stops in the centre
of the room and pulls me into his arms.  All that I’m aware of is a vast four-poster bed with ornate carving and heavy, dark purple velour drapes.  We kiss then, our tongues hungrily seeking each other’s.  His lips bruise mine with his passion and I moan with desire, a warm trickle seeping from my sex.  I feel his hand press into the small of my back and move downwards, where it grasps and kneads my buttocks.  He takes a handful of my hair with his other hand and tugs it firmly.  Still our tongues explore each other and I run my fingers through his short hair at the back of his head, pulling on it in my passion.  He bites my lip and I wince but seek more hungrily.

I feel Sebastian unzipping my dress and, as he glides the zip down, my spine tingles.  He slides it off each shoulder and it slithers to the floor.  He unhooks my bra and I press my naked breasts against him, my nipples hardening
painfully, elongating with the need for his touch.  I pull back and lift his sweater over his head and he raises his arms to help me, then I take off his t-shirt and both are cast to the floor.  He pulls me tightly to him and my nipples now press against his bare chest, the mass of dark hairs there tickling my skin.  His muscles are well defined and hard as I run my fingers across his bare chest.  He is the most beautiful male specimen I have ever seen and I am feral with desire for him.

He runs his hand
s firmly down my back and his fingers find the top of my panties, which he roughly pulls down over my hips and I step out of them.  I am naked and squirming with desire, feeling myself gush with desire and yearning for his touch on my clit and his cock inside me, deep, oh so deep.  I push my hips forward, rubbing my groin against his hard cock, which is pressing through the denim of his jeans screaming to be released.  I undo his leather belt and tug down his zipper, my impatience growing.

“Mmm so impatie
nt Elizabeth.  You need it darling, don’t you…” he breathes. 

A gasp escapes my lips as I take his huge
, erect penis in my hand and squeeze it’s length, rejoicing at the way it throbs in my hand.  It’s been such a very long time since I felt so desired, since I could be free to explore my own desires.  I can’t wait any longer. 

He guides me backwards until I feel the hard frame of the bed against the backs of
my thighs and then he pushes me hard, down onto the bed so that my ass is on the bed, but my legs are draped over the frame.  He bends and lifts each of my feet from the soft carpet, and I feel my legs lifted… so high and apart, exposing me, opening me wide.  He kneels then, placing my legs over each of his strong, broad shoulders.  Arching my back, I close my eyes and wait for what I know will come.  His kisses trail moistly on the inside of my thighs.

“Yes, oh yes, higher… go higher.” He’s driving me insane. 

“If you tell me what to do, I’ll stop Elizabeth.”

What? Oh no, don’t stop.  Please.

He pauses a moment, to make his point, before h
is fingers part my labia, the tip of his tongue flicking slowly at my clit.  It’s exquisite and I relish every flick, side to side, then circling as I throb down there.  My fingers reach down, tugging at his hair, pulling his tongue harder onto me until the full roughness of his tongue is driving me wild, lapping again and again across my clit, circling until I feel my orgasm building.  The warm flush builds from my pulsing sweet spot, and courses through my groin to my stomach, my nipples aching, the tremors rocking me unrelenting.  He tastes my wetness as I come then moves up, his tongue tracing a line up past my belly button, to each of my nipples and up to my neck then my lips.  He kisses me deeply and I taste the sweetness on his tongue, his mouth and chin drenched in my juices.

He moves away
and lies next to me on the bed, as he does so he pulls me on top of him and I am looking down into his lustful eyes.  He grabs a fistful of my hair again and I feel him pushing me down.

I kiss his neck, trail kisses to
his chest, which is so strong … and down, following the line of his course black curls, which run from his taught stomach down to his mound of thick manly pubic hair.  His erection is throbbing and I take him in my hand, he moans, “ yes. Take me in your mouth.  Now,” and I need no encouragement.  My tongue finds the first drop of salty dew on the head of his cock and then I take his manhood in my mouth, teasing him, taking him out, licking before taking him deep while my hand grasps and strokes his shaft.  He’s moaning and writhing now, guiding me with his strong grip.

“Yesss, that’s right.  T
ake it deep, good girl”.  His hand is pushing my head down faster, rhythmically then suddenly, he pulls me by my hair, it hurts and I wince.  He keeps the pressure on my hair forcing me up toward him then he releases me.

“Ride me.” He grabs my hips and guides me onto him, then down.  I am so very wet that his cock glides into me, he is so thick, so long that I gasp as I take all of him into
me, grinding down hard until he fills me completely to my end.  My back is arched, my head back and I’m moaning, it feels incredible. 

I’ve wait
ed so long for this and I savour every inch of him.  He is firmly holding my hips, moving me up and down setting the rhythm, his hips rising to meet me.  Up and down, grinding and I feel my orgasm building again as his hardness strikes my sweet deep bundle of nerves.  He grabs my hands, our fingers entwined tightly, and he is moaning louder now and I feel him climaxing too. He explodes deep inside me as I come hard onto him, my orgasm making my whole body shudder. 

He calls out as he comes
, and it sounds like ‘Libby’ but it could be ‘baby’ but the sound is gone and I can’t be sure.  I flop down onto his chest, his breathing is laboured and he’s hot and slick against my skin.

“Fuck, Elizabeth, you have real potential.”  What the hell does that mean?  Was I good or was I crap with the potential to be less crap?  I’ll talk about that comment later but for now I love being in his arms, lying on top of him,
my head nestled against his chest, listening to his heart beating strongly.  He feels so powerful, so full of testosterone, a real man.  My man?  At this moment I’m glad that he chose me, none of the other 25 women but only me.

We doze peacefully and when I stir it’s nearly nightfall. The light is fading fast and shadows are cast about the room.  As I grow accustomed to the poor light, I take in my surroundings.  The room is huge despite the dark, heavy furniture.  There is a vast, ornately carved armoire and matching eight-drawer chest upon which photographs sit in silver frames. 

A ca
rved chaise upholstered in dark crimson silk, sits beneath the mullioned window.  There is an enormous chest beside the door and a winged leather armchair is placed beside a wooden mantled fireplace.  It’s a manly room lacking a woman’s feminine touch. 

Sebastian stirs beside me and opens his eyes sleepily, then stretches and yawns before pulling me toward him and planting a kiss on my shoulder.

“Come, let’s go and eat, I’m ravenous,” he says, and he climbs out of bed and retrieves his jeans from the tangled mess of clothes on the floor and puts them on.  Then he takes my hand and pulls me reluctantly from the bed. 

“There’s a bathroom through there,” he indicates to a door next to the armoire.
  “Freshen up and put on the robe behind the door.  I’ll be in the kitchen.” Before I can answer he turns and leaves.  He seems distant, dismissive almost and I feel the old feelings of self-doubt creep back.  What we did was amazing and I want him to share the glow I feel.  I feel so insecure yet know that the feeling is irrational.  I need to get a grip! 

The bathroom is vast and I wonder if it was originally another bedroom.  ‘Bedchamber’ is what it would have been called in days gone by.  The
white enamelled bath sits in the centre of the bathroom, on grey marble floor tiles – its’ weight is supported by curved black wrought iron legs, with brass ball and claw feet.  I wonder if it is original or reproduction but it looks authentic.  There are modern touches, I notice, such as twin basins with glass shelves above each. 

On one shelf sits a variety of Sebastian’s shaving equipment, aftershave and a comb.  On the neighbo
uring shelf are a selection of female perfumes in glass bottles, Chanel and Christian Dior.  There is a bone-handled hairbrush and a silver cased lipstick.  I pull off the lid and twist, it is a bright blood red and I can see it’s been used.  The thought occurs to me that these may be Libby’s perfume and cosmetics.  I wonder if he is therefore keeping his dead wife’s toiletries, and if so it is macabre.  If not Libby’s then which other woman could these belong to? Evidently it’s a woman with whom Sebastian is intimate, or they wouldn’t be in his private bathroom.  This is another thing to quiz him about and the more I reflect, I wonder also if the silk robe hanging on a hook behind the door also belongs to the other woman.

The warm water feels good.  Cleansing.  As instructed, I
slip on the short black silk robe and tie the belt.  It has a single red rose embroidered on the right breast and it feels luxurious and cool against my skin but a shiver travels down my spine as I ponder the provenance of it. 

Studying
myself in the mirror, the flushed, sex-tousled haired woman I see staring back at me - is the woman who has been waiting to be freed for seventeen long years.  I blow the vamp a kiss in the mirror and head downstairs to find Sebastian.

A delicious smell greets me when I walk into the kitchen and I realise that I am ravenous.  Sebastian is stood over the range, stirring something in a heavy copper pan and I kiss him on the back of his neck, my arms encircling his narrow hips as I peer into the pan to see what he is cooking.

“Hope you’re hungry, Elizabeth, I make a mean bolognaise sauce!”

“Mmm, it smells yummy and I’m starving.  I can’t think why!” I wink at him and he gives me a sexy wry smile. 

“Sit” he gestures, with his wooden spoon, to the church pew and I take a seat.  The candle is lit and it casts a warm
golden glow across the chunky wooden table. 

I sit and watch him moving
deftly about the kitchen preparing our food with a relaxed competence.  He pours me a large glass of mellow red wine - I drink deeply enjoying the warm flush from the alcohol.  Sebastian sets two dishes of spaghetti bolognaise, spoons and forks on the table, nudging a small dish of Parmesan shavings toward me.

“You’
re such a good cook, Sebastian,” I flatter him and I mean it as I slide a dish of the tempting food to my place setting and take some Parmesan.  “Do you cook for yourself every day?”

“No, I enjoy cooking occasionally
, but Scarlett cooks for me.  She prepared the meal for the Business event.  She’s exceptional, very capable … and imaginative.”
Wait right there, fella. Are we talking about cooking, or something else
? I bite my lip.

“I just bet she is!” I retort without subtlety, but resentment creeps up on me from nowhere.
 

Sebastian puts down his cutlery and frowns at me.

“Elizabeth Dove, are you jealous?” he asks, all innocence and boyish charm.

“Should I be?” I retort, shovelling a forkful of bolognaise into my mouth nonchalantly, my eyes firmly locked onto my food.
 

“I don’t tolerate jealousy Elizabeth, I’ve already told you I like to surround myself with beautiful things.”