Sebastian - Dark Bonds (7 page)

Sebastian takes our bags to our rooms and I follow Scarlett to the kitchen where she fills the kettle and places it on to the range to boil.  Sitting down on the familiar church pew bench at the oversized oak kitchen table I study Scarlett as she busies herself setting out cups and saucers and spooning tealeaves into the white bone china teapot.  She looks slimmer than when I last saw her.  She is really thin, her hip bones prominent beneath her uniform black dress and I wonder if her weight loss was intentional or rather as a result of unhappiness.

“Tell me how you’ve been Scarlett,” I ask politely.  “How is Sebastian and the house?  It seems an absolute age since I was last here.”  She takes the whistling kettle from the range and pours the boiling water into the teapot, places the kettle down and turns to face me.  She is pale.

“Oh you know.  Same old, same old here Beth” she states with a sigh.  Wow she really is unhappy. 

“Sebastian’s fine.  He’s been in London much of the time on business so I haven’t really seen very much of him.”  This is news to me.  He hasn’t mentioned London and I feel affronted that he didn’t call in and see me en route.  I know Sebastian has an investment advisor and stockbroker in the city but I can’t imagine that either would require so much of his time.  For the first time, it occurs to me how little I know this man.  I decide to push for more information.

“What was he doing in London?” I ask lightly.

“He doesn’t tell me Beth.  I know he has friends in London so it may be that he visits them.  They stay here too sometimes so I’m sure that’s what he’s doing.  Seeing them.”

“I see.  Do the friends visit him here frequently?” I probe further. 

“What friends are these?”  Sebastian asks curtly.  Scarlett is startled by Sebastian’s presence in the kitchen and I notice she blushes.

“Scarlett was just telling me that you have been to see friends in London.  I’m surprised you didn’t call in and see me.”  I am pouting and I can’t help it. 

He eyes me cautiously and then turns his steely gaze upon Scarlett.

“I didn’t realise that you were my social secretary Scarlett.”  His words sting and she lowers her gaze and hangs her head immediately, studying the floor. 

“Serve the tea.  That is, of course, if you wouldn’t mind doing the actual job for which I pay you.” 

I feel mortified that he’s talking to the poor girl this way.  It is unjustified but I hold my tongue for fear of facing his wrath myself.  Scarlett places the china teacups and saucers on the table in front of me and pours the tea.  The rattle of the lid on the pot alerts me to her trembling hand and then I see an angry red weal around her wrist.  It is a circular wound, which looks as though she has worn a red-hot bracelet.

“Scarlett your wrist!”  I gasp.  “What happened to it?”  She nervously places the teapot down and pulls her sleeve down her arm to cover the sore welt. 

“It was a careless accident wasn’t it Scarlett?” Sebastian prompts.  “Silly girl burnt it on the range. 

Leave us now, Scarlett, I want to talk with Mrs. Dove.” 
So formal
.  Scarlett, still blushing, leaves the kitchen.

“You’re very tough on her Sebastian,” I scold.  “It sounds as though she’s been pretty much running things at the house while you’ve been partying in London.”

“I see.  I feel now would be the perfect time for us to establish one or two house rules.”  I raise my eyebrow at him in surprised defiance.  My parents were the last people to lay down house rules and I do not take kindly to Sebastian doing so now in adulthood.

“Firstly, kindly remember that Scarlett is a salaried employee of mine and, as such, is not a new best friend with whom you may gossip.” My jaw drops in astonishment. 

“Secondly, no familiarity with my staff.  I prefer that she and my estate workers refer to you as Mrs. Dove.  Thirdly, I have interests that are varied and diverse and these interests may take me away, or I may indulge them at Penmorrow.   I hope that, in time, you will share these interests.  Do we understand one another Elizabeth?” 

“Well.” I am almost, but not quite, speechless.  “I think you’ve made yourself very clear.  In fact I’m wondering what the hell I have let myself in for coming here to stay with you.” 

My skin prickles and my face is red with rage.  I look at Sebastian and see a steely resolve in his dark hazel eyes, his eyebrows knitted together to form a scowling snake, he regards me with both hands planted firmly on the table as he leans across intimidating me.  I will not back down.

“You are here, Elizabeth, because this is where you belong.”  What the hell does that mean? 

“You have belonged here since the first day I saw you, covered in mud if I recall.  You were beautiful then and even more so now.  You’re here because you need me, and I you.”  Need? Not love?

“And you’re here because you want me to take care of you and give you what you desire, deep in your core Elizabeth.”

He has straightened and is walking slowly around the table toward me.  In his black jeans and uncustomary black t-shirt he’s an image of sexy badness and despite my anger, I feel the familiar tingles in my groin and I tense my thigh muscles, clenching them tightly together.  I part my lips to utter a sarcastic quip in return but he is behind me and his hands are caressing the back of my neck, sliding down to my throat.  He sweeps the long hair from my back, across my right shoulder and I feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he trails kisses around to my left earlobe which he takes between his teeth and nibbles hard.  I arch my back, turning on the wooden pew so that my mouth can meet his.  His mouth is on mine then, his tongue probing mine.  I rise from my seat, turning to face him, resting up on my knees to meet his kiss face to face now.  His hands run down my spine and his fingers probe beneath the waistband of my cotton trousers down to the cleft of my buttocks and down further until he grasps a handful of my ass and squeezes hard so that my breath catches.

My mouth is on his hard now, the stubble on his face grazing my skin.  Our teeth grind against each other’s as our tongues fight a fierce battle.  My hands are in his hair, tugging, entwined in his black messy locks.  His hand cups my breast and then moves down and finds the hem of my sweater.  Moving beneath it, I feel his fingers moving up to my bra, forcing the cup upwards his fingers find my nipple and knead and tug at it until I feel that I may come here and now.

Sebastian pulls away and I moan in frustration.  He comes around the pew and then he is lifting me up onto the enormous oak table, sweeping aside the china cups, ignoring the smash of crockery upon the unyielding flagstones.  My ass is on the edge of the table, which bites into my buttocks, my legs are around his waist, gripping him with my knees, longing for him to enter my yearning wetness.  Stepping back, he unzips my fly and roughly pulls down my trousers and panties.  He turns and pulls off each of my ankle boots and tosses them behind him, pulling off my lower garments in one fluid movement.  I am naked and exposed from the waist down, my legs forced further apart by his rough hands.  I hope that Bella and Scarlett are busy elsewhere as I am powerless to stop what Sebastian has started.  The only conclusion I want is the orgasm I so desperately need.

“I need you…” I pant.  My hands grip the edge of the table as I ease myself back onto the hard wood, lost now to my desire.

“Oh be careful what you wish for.”

My swollen clit is going to combust but he kneels, his head between my thighs and I know that his sweet rough tongue will gift me my release.  My clit is left wanting.  His mouth is not upon me.  I’m getting so frustrated, unable to hold back a cry of disappointment and impatience.  He nibbles, bites at my thighs so sharply that I’m forced to push his head away roughly.   Standing now, he’s looking down at me, his eyes burning with what - Desire? Control? He forces down the zip on his jeans, unbuckles his belt and pulls it from his waistband.  Oh crap, what’s he going to do with that?

Lust succumbs to fear as I watch him over me, strong and powerful and grasping the leather belt in front of him. 

“Sebastian, Bella could walk in.  Or Scarlett.  Let’s go upstairs to your bedroom,” aware of the impropriety of our surroundings, and the risk of being caught further dampens my arousal. 

“Then I’ll be quick.  Stop talking.”  Crap.  Who the hell does he think he is to speak to me this way?  Inwardly seething, I sit up, my eyes lock with his dark coals and his cocked eyebrow dares me to defy him. 

“I see how it is, Elizabeth.  You want to play hard to get?”

“No,” I’m worried about getting caught and you’re freaking me out!

With a deep, frustrated sigh, he puts his shoulder against the far side of the oak dresser adjacent to the door, sliding the heavy furniture across the doorway.

“There.  Are you satisfied now?”  He ambles sultrily back to his position beside me.

“Yes.  Thank you.”  My hands reach out and grab his biceps as I try to stand. He sweeps both my hands away and holds them in a firm grip with his left hand, his right hand encircling my wrists with the leather belt.

“What the hell are you doing,” Fear gives way to anger - this is no longer sensual or consensual.

“Trust me, Elizabeth.  You have to learn to trust me.  You’re not in control now – you relinquished that when you came here.” He raises my bound wrists using the belt, and gently pushes me back down onto the table. 

Pushing his boxers down, he moves more snuggly between my open thighs.  Lifting my head from the table, I see his organ standing erect and vast, and I gasp as his hardness presses at the entrance to my sex, lust consuming me once more.  He’s leaning down over me, his chest hair lightly tickling my nipples.  His left hand holds firm my strapped wrists. This is so wrong, so sordid, and yet so divine. He forces himself deeper and deeper into my pulsing wetness and I close myself around him.  He’s hitting and rubbing my sweet spot deep inside me, then sliding out and repeatedly thrusting up into my core while his right thumb rubs at my clit, faster and faster and I am building.  Tipped over the edge of the precipice of pleasure, I feel the waves of my orgasm coursing through my body, every muscle contracts and it carries on building, not dissipating until I cry out for him to stop.  As my orgasm diminishes, my body prickles with unbearably heightened sensation. Still he pounds into me hard on the edge of the table, my legs firmly grasping him to me, pulling him in deeper.  His breath is quickening and I look up at him above me, his eyes are tightly closed, his expression one of carnal lust and dark despair and he comes with a guttural moan as I feel him pulsing inside me.  He flops forward onto me, hot and sweating and spent.  I stroke his hair as his breathing settles and tell him I love him.  His silence is agonising.

12

“Sebastian.  All these clothes, where did they come from?”  I stare aghast at the plethora of dresses, skirts and silk garments hanging in the antique wardrobe.

  “Do you like them?  I asked Scarlett to pick out one or two new pieces for you.”  He’s lounging on the chaise, long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, regarding me and gauging my reaction to his extravagance.

 
“I don’t know what to say.  When will I have the opportunity to wear these?” My eye is drawn to a full-length crimson taffeta gown with black sash and black lace underskirt.  Taking it from the hanger, I hold the exquisite dress to me and spin, feeling how the crisp fabric rustles as I turn.

“Put it on.”  Sebastian runs a finger across his top lip, his eyes burning as he observes me.

“You’d like your own fashion show?” Raising my eyebrow at him in recognition of the dark look I know so well now, I let the dress fall gently into a taffeta puddle at my feet and slowly, teasingly, remove my clothes down to my underwear.

“Take it all off,” he commands, “I want you to feel the taffeta against your breasts.  Feel how it rubs your nipples.”

“Certainly, Sir,” I goad.

“Sir?  You’re learning fast, Elizabeth.” The hint of an approving smirk flashes across his face.

Naked, I step into the centre of the dress and pull the fabric up and holding it to my body, pad over to Sebastian turning and indicating for him to fasten my dress.  It’s a strapless gown with fitted corset, flaring out below the black sashed waist – the stiff folds of fabric supported by the unyielding black net beneath.  Standing, Sebastian takes the black laces of the corset in his long fingers and pulls sharply.  Catching my breath, I hold in my waist to aid the fastening as he pulls tightly with each lacing.

“You’ve lost weight,” he remarks and he’s right, I haven’t regained my appetite fully, since I lost Joe and Alan.

“Do you like the slimmer me?” My waist seems impossibly small in the dress as he pulls me in even tighter, my hands on my hips to help him.  He’s fastening it so forcefully that I fear the seams may give.

“Fuck, Elizabeth, you have no idea how sexy you look.  Yes I love your figure, but don’t lose any more weight.  I like my women curvy.”  Your women?

“Which women would these be, Sebastian?” I ask haughtily.  He responds with a sharper tug on the cords.

“You know what I mean,” he mutters irritably. 

“Enlighten me.”  Not intending to let this drop, I attempt to turn and confront him.  He prevents me from doing so by pulling the cords of the dress in the opposite direction to my rotation, rendering me immobile.