Abandoned Luna Now Untouchable (Cecilia) novel Chapter 236

Cecilia’s pov

Sebastian’s wet lips trailed a hungry path from the small of my back up to my ear, leaving fire in their wake, his tongue a hot, wicked stripe against my sensitive skin.

His grip was iron, unyielding, as I struggled beneath him.

He was devouring me like a starving wolf who’d found prey after weeks of hunting.

No matter how protested, his hands continued their relentless exploration, my dress practically hanging in tatters as he tried peeling it away.

I twisted beneath him, panic rising fast. “Sebastian, stop…this isn’t you.”

But he didn’t even blink. His pupils were blown wide, as if he couldn’t hear me at all.

His knee forced its way between my thighs, the rough fabric of his tailored pants a brutal friction against the thin silk of my panties.

I could feel the hard, insistent ridge of his cock pressing against my ass, a blatant promise of violation even through his slacks.

Every shift of his hips ground that heat against me, a crude simulation that sent a jolt of traitorous lightning straight to my core.

My body was betraying me, a damp heat gathering where his thigh met my pussy, a silent, shameful answer to his aggression.

“Sebastian!” I shouted. “Snap out of it!” He didn’t.

Not until I scraped my nails down his arm in warning.

His skin gave beneath my fingers, a red trail blooming in my wake.

I thought pain might shock him back. I was wrong.

Wrong move. Catastrophically wrong. It only made things worse.

A rough, guttural sound ripped from his throat.

One large hand slid from my waist, fingers hooking into the fragile lace at my hip.

He didn’t tear them away, but the threat was there, his knuckles digging into my flesh, the barrier so thin it was like he was already touching me.

He yanked me back harder against his erection, making me gasp.

He flipped me over like I weighed nothing..

My cocktail dress–already more suggestion than coverage–was barely clinging to me. His eyes raked over me like I was dinner.

Hot. Ready. Served. His gaze locked on the rapid rise and fall of my chest, on the pebbled tightness of my nipples pressing against the ruined silk.

He Towered himself, his hips slotting between my spread legs, the full, daunting weight of his arousal now a direct, pulsing pressure against my clit through our clothes.

. It was an intimate cage, a preview that stole the breath from my lungs.

“I swear to God, I will fight you,” I warned.

Then I did.

My voice shook, but my body didn’t. I shoved hard at his chest, kicked out with my knee.

He caught my wrists mid-swing, slammed them above my head with one hand, and pinned me down like I weighed nothing.

Then he kissed me. Hard. Like punishment. Like he wanted to brand the shape of his mouth into mine.

I writhed beneath him, twisting, trying to bite, trying to breathe.

His grip was unrelenting. I kicked at him, pushed, but he didn’t let go.

He kissed me hard, without hesitation, without recognition.

We were locked in a brutal rhythm, all tension and motion, no thought.

Then he stopped.His entire body went still. His breathing hitched.

His eyes flicked toward mine. Focus returned, slowly at first, then sharply.

Realization hit him. He looked down at my face. He released me.

Without a word, he grabbed his jacket from the floor and threw it over me.

Then he stepped back quickly, as if afraid to be too close.

He collapsed at the far end of the couch, chest heaving.

Every muscle in his body pulsed with restrained violence.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify