Sebastian

 

“Consider me impressed,” Anna whispers in my ear as she walks back to her table of students.

I can’t help the way the corners of my mouth tilt up into the type of lovesick grin that just a few months ago, I would have scoffed at. The light scent of her perfume lingers in the air and it takes me a second to get my head back to the ten year olds sitting in front of me.

When Anna asked me a few days ago if I’d come with her and her foster mother to Linden House, a youth group home downtown, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. I’ve done free pottery lessons for kids at a few different community centres before and knowing that it would put a smile on Anna’s beautiful face seemed like a win-win. Right now, I’m showing my group how to make pinch pots out of a smooth ball of clay. A great beginner project that I use often because it doesn’t require any equipment.

I remember when I was fourteen and in the pits of private school hell. I hated the uniforms, the formalities and the fact that I knew I was being groomed for a lifestyle that I didn’t want. I begged my parents to let me go to public school, but my father wouldn’t hear it. My mother tried to play diplomat but essentially, as much as she loved me, she knew that my father wouldn’t budge and instead worked out a compromise. I’d continue to attend private school, but I could choose any extracurricular activity that I wanted. I chose an art class because I knew my father would hate that one the most. I was cocky and arrogant and had no actual appreciation for art and was mostly just hoping to meet girls. I couldn’t and still can’t paint or sketch worth shit. But the minute we began a course on pottery and sculpting and I laid my cockiness on the line, something clicked and I knew that I was meant to create things, as cliché as it sounds. I’m still grateful that my art teacher managed to see through my arrogance and took the time to teach me everything I wanted to know. 

I glance over at Anna as she helps her group with their homework, watching her as she patiently answers questions and offers an encouraging smile to a girl who looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. She looks up and holds my stare, smiling softly and blushing lightly before she looks away.

Just as I’m about to explain how to add texture to the molded clay, a woman walks into the room carrying a plastic bin full of muffins and I swear every single kid in the room rushes over to her before she even sets the bin on a table. Once the crowd of kids thins out, Anna comes over and takes my hand, leading me to who I assume is Esme.

“Sebastian, this is Esme Dixon,” she says with a smile. “Esme, this is Sebastian Miller.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I say.

“So, you’re the young man who has put the stars in my Anna’s eyes,” she says.

Anna blushes and nudges Esme’s side, rolling her eyes as the older woman waves off her embarrassment.

“I would certainly love to take the credit for that,” I say, flashing a cocky grin at Anna who snorts and shakes her head.

“Hmm. I think you’ll fit in just fine, Sebastian,” Esme says, handing me a chocolate chip muffin. “Go be useful dear, you can come over for brunch next weekend and meet the rest of the family.”

I take a large bite and groan my approval, earning me a smile from Esme and a dramatic eye roll from Anna. I turn and head back to my group, Anna close behind me.

“Well played,” she says.

“Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you blush, freckles?” I ask quietly, dipping my head down to hers.

“No,” she breathes softly.

I press my lips to hers quickly, speaking low enough so that only she can hear. “So fucking sexy,” I say.

“Go be useful,” she grins, her cheeks turning pink. “Maybe later tonight I’ll show you something really sexy,” she says in a low voice before turning around walking back to her table.

 

 

*

 

I pause before I enter the kitchen, watching Anna as she stands at the counter, chopping up vegetables. Her hair is still wet from the shower we just had, her legs and feet bare, the only thing covering her up is one of my old T-shirts that hangs to her knees. My chest pulls tight, watching her. A feeling that I haven’t had in years. Correction, a feeling I haven’t let myself have in years. She’s got her iPod hooked up on the counter, humming along with The Lumineers, her favourite band. It should freak me out, seeing her in my space, with her things. But it doesn’t.

“I know you’re watching me,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.

I step toward her and place my hands on either side of the counter in front of her, blocking her in. She pauses and sets the knife down, leaning back into me.

“I can’t help it,” I say, kissing her neck. “It’s not every day that I have a half-naked woman in my kitchen, cooking me dinner.”

“Well I should hope not,” she smirks, turning to face me.

Her hands trail up my arms and clasp together behind my neck as she raises onto her toes and presses her mouth to mine. I press her back, groaning as she melts into me. I just had her in the shower and I already want more. I can’t get enough of this woman. I deepen our kiss, sliding my tongue against hers when my phone begins to chime. I ignore it, but a second after it stops, it starts again. Fuck.

“You should get that,” she suggests, slightly out of breath. “You can always have me for dessert.”

“Not helping, woman,” I grumble, adjusting myself.

She chuckles as I grab my phone off the kitchen table, not bothering to see who it is before I answer.

“This better be good,” I warn.

“Hello to you too, son.”

Shit. I cover up the mouthpiece and step into the other room while Anna is too distracted to notice.

“Look, can we make this quick, I’ve got company,” I grind out. “I’m well, everything is great, consider your parental obligation fulfilled.”

“Son, for the sake of your mother, you nee-.”

“Mom’s dead, she doesn’t give a fuck about any of this,” I spit. “And neither do you. Not really. It’s always about appearances, right?”

“Some things have changed,” he says. “We need to talk.”

“No. Don’t tell me what I need to do,” I say. “You didn’t give a shit before and I doubt you give a shit now.”

I press end and chuck the phone onto the floor. I know she’s standing there before her soft voice fills the room.

“Sebastian? Are you okay?”

I’m pissed off. I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her about my fucked-up family and the bitch who ripped my heart out and everything in between. But I don’t, because I’m weak and I don’t know how to let her in. I reach for a T-shirt and pull it over my head, shoving my feet into my shoes next. I stride past her, collecting my keys from the table on my way to the door.

“Sebastian, please talk to me,” she pleads, following close behind. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“I’m not mad at you,” I exhale roughly. “I just, I need to get some air.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “We can talk later.”

I reach for the door and let it shut behind me, I try to convince myself that I need to be alone right now. That I want to be alone. 

I slam the door of my pickup and rip out of the parking lot, no particular destination in mind. I just drive. I’m disgusted with myself for letting my baggage rattle me enough that I took it out on Anna. She doesn’t deserve that shit. I pull up to my studio and unlock the door, I flip the lights on and chuck my keys on the bench. Turning on the stereo, I flip through the satellite radio until I find something loud and fucking angry. I grab a beer from the small fridge in the corner and slump down into the old worn out chair, taking a long sip.

I look around my studio, at everything I’ve made for myself. I think about my mom, which is another thing I don’t let myself do often. I think about the last conversation I had with her before her eyes closed softly and never opened again. My vision blurs as I mindlessly stare at the space surrounding me, trying to forget but wanting the comfort of remembering.

It’s after midnight when I unlock my door and flip on the kitchen light. The countertops are spotless and when I open the fridge I see two plastic containers. One filled with rice and one filled with stir-fried vegetables. On top of the vegetables is a note with a key sitting beneath it.

You’re not alone Sebastian.

-Anna xo

Fuck. Guilt washes over me as I close the fridge and lean against the counter. I have to make this right. I look down at my freshly stained T-shirt and think I should probably go wash up before I sneak into her apartment and beg for forgiveness. But I’m too damn impatient.

I knock softly on her door, thinking she might still be up watching T.V. but a moment passes, and she doesn’t answer so I slip the key in and unlock it. I close it gently behind me and flip the deadbolt before I make my way to Anna’s bedroom. The soft glow of her bedside lamp fills the room. She’s curled on her side, her lesson planning notebook open beside her, the thick rimmed blue reading glasses that I’ve come to find very sexy are perched on her nose. Her chest gently rises and falls, her hands clasped beneath her cheek. My eyes burn a path from the top of her messy bun, all the way down, past her tank top and shorts to her bare feet and blue painted toenails. She’s so beautiful. And not just on the outside. I’ve never met anyone like Anna before. She cares about people in the most genuine way possible. And she’s so damn good. My chest aches knowing that I could lose her at any minute because of my own stupidity.

I sit carefully at the foot of the bed and place her feet in my lap. I watch as her eyelids blink open and focus on me. She gives me a soft smile, offering me the kind of reassurance that I probably don’t deserve but that I’m grateful for anyways.

“Hey,” she says sleepily.

“Hey.”

She closes her notebook and drops it to the floor before pulling off her glasses and setting them on the nightstand. She extends her arms to me but before I move, I look down at my clothes, hesitating.

“Come here,” she insists.

I kick off my shoes and crawl up the bed, tucking my arm beneath her and pulling her close. The soft scent of vanilla teases my nose as she buries herself against my chest and traces her fingertips above my heart.

“You want to talk about it?” she asks after a beat.

“I remember my mom standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes and singing along with the radio,” I begin. “My dad was born into wealth, but Isabelle Miller was the product of a blue-collar upbringing. He used to tell her to leave chores like that for the house staff because that’s what they were there for, but she would just shake her head and ignore him,” I say.

“How did they meet?” she asks.

“She was his secretary,” I snort. “She worked for him for two years before they eloped, and she got pregnant shortly after. There was a time when I think she kept him in line, a time when he didn’t spend every minute of every day at his office. But I hardly remember any of that.”

“And what do you remember?”

“Him never being around. My mom being sad and lonely,” I tell her, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I remember being miserable. And I remember the last conversation I had with her before she died. She told me to do what made me happy.”

“I assume you took her advice?” she smiles.

“I dropped out of business school the next day and put everything I had into my studio,” I say. “I took my mother’s maiden name. I didn’t want any breaks. I didn’t want any of the favours that automatically come to you when you come from money.”

“She’d be proud of you Sebastian.”

“I think so,” I say. “What you heard on the phone was a recurring conversation that I’ve had with dear old Dad numerous times over the last six years,” I explain. “He thinks I need to do certain things and I disagree.”

I tilt her chip up and meet her stare with mine. “I’m sorry Anna, you didn’t deserve me throwing my baggage at you,” I say. “I hate that this shit still gets under my skin, but it’s got nothing to do with you, it’s on me.”

She presses her mouth softly against mine. “I can be here for you,” she says. “You just have to let me.”

“I’m trying. Be patient with my dumb ass?”

“It might cost you,” she grins.

I yank her underneath me and pin my weight against her, she shrieks and laughs when I bury my face in her neck.

“Stop! I’m ticklish!”

I lean back and look down at her before my mouth is claiming hers in a lazy kiss. I glance down at her pink shirt and notice for the first time the black letters that are written across the front. I believe in fairy tales, it says.

“Fairy tales, huh? You really believe in all that?”

“Mmhm.”

“I don’t have much experience with those,” I admit.

“You just haven’t met the right person yet,” she says simply.

She places her hands on the back of my neck and pulls me down, nipping my bottom lip and kissing the mark. She wraps her legs around my torso and trails light kisses along my jaw, up to my ear.

“Is this the part where we have makeup sex?” she whispers.

“This is the part where I show you how sorry I am,” I correct, sitting up and pulling her with me.

I pull her shirt over her head and toss it to the floor, leaning forward I take one of her tight pink nipples into my mouth and tug on it gently. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders slightly as she rocks forward.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her, lying her back down on the satin blue pillows that line the top of her bed.

I press my mouth to her ribs, licking and sucking a path down to the elastic waistband of her pink flannel shorts. She lifts her hips as I pull them down her thighs, she’s naked underneath and my mouth waters at the sight of her pussy; perfect and waiting. For me.

I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside, watching as her eyes fall heavy, her fingers gently grasping the fabric beneath her. She watches as I bend her knees, opening her thighs wide. I nudge my shoulders between them and dip my head down, taking one slow taste of her slit. She’s perfectly still until I pull her clit into my mouth, gently sucking, her hips jerking up before she melts back down into the mattress. I swipe my tongue along her folds again, this time plunging it inside of her and rubbing my nose against her swollen clit, inhaling her sweet smell and groaning as I taste her.

In my entire life, nothing has tasted as sweet as Anna. I could live on nothing but her and be happy. I continue to lick, suck and tease every part of her that I can reach, satisfaction filling me as she moans, spearing her fingers into my hair and pleading for more. I look up, catching her hooded gaze on me and nearly come in my pants. She’s watching me devour her, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and stifling her own moans.

I slide one finger insider her easily and flatten my tongue against her clit, rubbing it as hard as I can until she’s panting and mumbling and the tightness of her pussy clamps down on my finger. She comes on my hand and on my lips, gasping my name and fisting the comforter at her sides.

I lick the sweet saltiness of her skin, back up to her collarbone and up to her lips. I want her to know what she tastes like. Her mouth finds mine, her palms on either side of my face making me feel like I fucking deserve her.

“Less clothes,” she pants against my mouth. “I want you.”

She nudges me onto my back and slides down my body, plucking the button on my jeans and tugging them down my legs. She reaches for my boxers next but before she pulls them off she leans down and places an open mouth kiss on my raging hard cock, the heat from her breath nearly making me growl like a fucking caveman. She rolls my boxers off and stares as my dick springs free. She licks her lips, looking up at me before she straddles my shins and bends down, using one hand to hold me up as she slides her lips over the tip and all the way to the base.

Fucking Christ, she’s taking me all the way down her throat and I have to stop myself from gripping her hair and fucking the hell out of her mouth. She drags her lips back and swirls her tongue around the tip, moaning softly when my hips twitch beneath her. She uses her fist to stroke whatever won’t fit, sliding her tongue along the bottom and placing an open kiss on the tip every time my dick slips free.

“Jesus Anna, you gotta stop,” I groan. “I want in that pussy.”

She grins up at me and releases me with a pop before she crawls back up and rests her wet pussy right on my cock. I tug her down and kiss her roughly as she slides back and forth.

“Fuck, guide me in baby,” I growl.

She lines me up with her pussy and slides down in one quick thrust, sitting up, she pauses and looks down at me. Sated and sexy as fucking hell, her dark red hair cascading down her back. She rocks back and forth, grinding her clit against me, her perfect little tits bouncing gently with every thrust of her hips. Her hands grip my chest.

“Sebastian,” she breathes.

“Fuck yes,” I groan.

She chants my name, fucking me harder and faster until she tenses around me and slumps forward onto my chest, her face in my neck. I roll us over and press her knees up to her shoulders. I plunge into her, so damn deep that I can’t even see straight. Her hands fly back to the railings of her headboard, wrapping around the bars and holding on as the entire mattress jerks and groans beneath us. My balls tighten, my muscles burn, and the minute I come inside of her and feel her second orgasm ripple around me, I sink into her one final time. The drumming in my chest slows down as I slide myself from her body. I roll onto my back and pull her into my side. She drapes her arm across my chest and holds me just as tightly as I hold her.

I can’t think of anything romantic or even remotely clever to say. So I keep my mouth shut and remain fucking grateful that Anna has the patience of a saint.