Two years ago…
MATURE CONTENT AHEAD
Elizabeth
Orders poured into my inbox almost every hour, tugging me in a thousand directions. The past few months had been nothing but a whirlwind, and the pace hadn't slowed even now. I barely had time to breathe, let alone carve out a moment for myself. On rare days, I managed to squeeze in an evening with my friends—but even then, my apartment was overflowing with dresses, shoes, bags, and countless deliveries waiting for me.
Sleep had become a luxury. My nights were short, my mornings heavy, and my mother never missed a chance to tease me during our FaceTime calls. "You're going to have permanent black eyes, Serena," she'd say in Portuguese, her laughter echoing through the screen. She wasn't wrong. But I couldn't slow down—not when work meant progress, growth, money. I didn't complain; the exhaustion felt worth it. Every completed order, every satisfied client added another brick to the legacy I was determined to build for myself.
Yes, my boyfriend was a multibillionaire, but I had never wanted to live in anyone's shadow—not even Sebastian's. His wealth could never define me. I wanted my own mark, my own story.
Still, my ambition came at a price. These days, Sebastian and I barely saw each other. He left before dawn, returning late at night with exhaustion written all over him. Half the time, I was asleep when he came in, and when I stirred in the morning, he was already gone. I couldn't resent him—it wasn't his fault. His empire demanded his presence just as much as mine did mine.
Recently, his schedule had grown even heavier. With his sister's wedding drawing closer, he was forced to shoulder most of his stepfather's legacy on top of his own projects. He traveled constantly, flying from one continent to another. Just two days ago, he returned from Japan, still smelling faintly of airports and sleepless nights.
Yet despite the madness, Sebastian always found a way to reach me. Whether it was a stolen FaceTime call in the middle of the day, or a quick check-in when he had a moment to breathe, he made sure I felt his presence—even across oceans.
And he never came home empty-handed. London had brought me a flawless set of Hermès bags, Italy a Bottega Veneta scarf soft as clouds. I'd lost count of all the signature gifts he'd surprised me with, each one carrying a little piece of where he'd been. They weren't just luxuries; they were reminders. Proof that even while building his empire, he never forgot me.
Thank God he was finally back in town and steady—or at least, steady until something else dragged him away again.
But now, the tables had turned. It was my career pulling me under. Fashion designing had become my entire orbit. I left home early, returned late, sometimes barely catching my breath between orders. Sebastian would occasionally swing by to pick me up, but dates? Even intimacy? Those had become rare. And lately… well, I couldn't deny it. I craved the latter more than I wanted to admit.
Whenever I needed silence and focus, I escaped to my apartment, where my sewing machines hummed like trusted companions. Tonight was no different.
Bianca was sprawled on the couch, filing her toenails with the ease of someone who had all the time in the world. At least she kept me company.
"Girl, it's obvious," she said, flicking her gaze at me. "You might as well consider yourself married."
I snipped at a piece of crepe fabric, refusing to look up. "Bianca, you're out of key."
"Out of key?" She gave a little laugh and tilted her chin. "No, babe, you're out of touch. Look at it this way: he's keeping you close, hiding condom foils like a man with a mission, fucking you raw even when he knows you're ovulating, and then—oh!—making that noble promise of taking responsibility if anything happens. Hello, Lizzy? The man's got plans. The only missing piece is him dropping on one knee. Did you even confront him about those hidden condoms?"
I paused, then quietly admitted, "No."
Bianca's groan filled the room. "God, Lizzy! Can't you see? He wants you carrying his baby."
I looked at her, uncertain. "You think?"
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "He's scheming. Men like Sebastian? When they fall, they fall hard. He thinks knocking you up is the only way to make sure you'll never say no to him."
Her words sank into me like dye into silk. For some reason, they made sense—dangerously so. I thought about the nights with him, the heat, the way his body seemed to speak more than his mouth ever did. My sex life had become… different. Charged. And if Bianca was right, I had no clue what might come next—only that the possibility scared me and thrilled me all at once.
But one thing I know is—he's heavenly handsome and rich. Who wouldn't want to carry his child?
I wanted to. God, I really did. Half the time I caught myself daydreaming about Sebastian and me, our future, our home, little ones running around with his dark hair and sharp eyes. I prayed silently that I'd be the woman chosen to walk beside him forever—the bone of his bone, the flesh of his flesh, just as Genesis described.
I just hoped he saw that in me too—that he looked at me and thought wifey material.
"Have you missed your period yet?" Bianca's sudden question snapped me right out of my fantasy.
I blinked at her. "No. Why are you asking?"
She capped her nail polish, smirking like she'd just cracked a code. "Lizzy, I think those antibiotics gummies you're always chewing aren't just for calming asthma. I swear they've got some kind of birth-control mix in them."
I almost burst out laughing. "Seriously? I've been taking them for years. There's no such thing in them."
Her face turned stubborn. "How would you know? Hm? He's just like Antoni. I caught that idiot throwing a whole bunch of condom foils into the bin. If I hadn't been on the pill, I'd probably have my second child by now."
My eyes widened. That wasn't exactly what I expected to hear from the self-crowned queen of wild sex. "Bianca, you're hilarious."
"Stop laughing, girl!" she whined, tossing the nail file at me. "It's not funny."
I tried to rein it in, raising my palms. "Okay, sorry. My bad."
But she wasn't done. Her tone dropped, more thoughtful this time. "Sometimes when we're cuddling, Antoni hesitates before asking me about my cycle… when my last period was, whether I'm ovulating. Men don't ask that unless they've got plans, Lizzy."
Her words lingered, heavier than I wanted them to.
Because what if Sebastian was doing the same?
"That's… on purpose."
"Yeah," she said casually, blowing on her nails. "We've been having unprotected sex for a while now. And then he drops this bomb—when I'm on FaceTime with Mom next, he wants to talk to her. Like—Lizzy—tell me, is that man planning to marry me?"
I couldn't help but pity her a little. "You'll see. But honestly, how's he gonna cope with your mom? She speaks nothing but Spanish."
I'd only met Bianca's mother once, through a call. The woman was stunning—like looking at Kylie Minogue's twin. Same blonde hair, same striking blue eyes. It felt like meeting Bianca's older double.
Bianca gave a sharp snort. "Who told you? Antoni's been secretly taking online classes on Duolingo."
My jaw nearly dropped. "Holy angel. You've got to be kidding me. He's doing it for you? Girl, you need to see that from the positive angle."
"Don't tease me about my words," she murmured, her sass faltering for a second. I could sense the weight behind her confession. "If he asked for my hand in marriage today, I'd say yes without thinking twice."
I believed her.
Switching the thread on my sewing machine, I glanced up. "Then why don't you give him the chance to plant his seed? Maybe the proposal will come even faster."
She shot me a glare. "Maybe if you do it first, I'll learn and follow your lead."
I snorted. "You can't copy me. You know my family background. It's crazy. Formal. My father? He's a jackass. Too religious to tolerate something like that."
Bianca rolled her eyes with the kind of nonchalance only she could pull off. "Fuck whatever he thinks. Sebastian can handle him." She said it like the whole thing was nothing more than a glass of spilled wine.
I sighed. "Moreover, chances of having a baby now are very low."
Her eyes widened, horrified. "Are you infertile?"
"What?" I shook my head so fast my hair nearly slapped my cheek. "Jesus, no, Bianca. God forbid that for me."
She placed a hand over her chest, exhaling in relief. I added quickly, "What I meant was… I can't even remember the last time Seb and I had sex. We barely mingle these days. He leaves early, comes back exhausted, while I bury myself in sewing."
Bianca padded into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. "Yeah, Antoni mentioned he has a bunch of duties dragging him to different parts of the world lately."
I shrugged. "I don't bother asking. I'm not nosey."
She leaned against the doorpost, sipping, then downed the whole thing in one gulp. "Mmm."
"We're still trying to understand each other over FaceTime. No time for sex, fun, or… anything. I didn't even catch him this morning. He was still at the gym when I took a quick bath, texted him I was leaving, and dashed out."
She plopped herself back onto the couch. "Does he know you're here?"
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Seb's an understanding guy. Antoni said he's noticed a lot of changes in him since he met you."
That made me giggle. "Glad I'm making an impact on someone."
And then—bang! The door swung open so hard both Bianca and I nearly jumped out of our skins.
"Yay!!! He proposed!!" Natasha shrieked at the top of her lungs.
"He what!?" we both cried in unison, bolting to our feet.
We rushed to her, eyes glued to the glittering rock on her finger.
"Holy—Natasha, that's huge!" Bianca gasped, grabbing her hand like it was made of gold.
I couldn't stop staring. The ring was dazzling, practically blinding under the living room lights. "Oh my God… when did this happen!?"
Natasha was flushed pink, grinning like a lovesick teenager. "Just now. Leonard got down on one knee right outside the car. I swear, I almost fainted!"
Bianca squealed and hugged her tight. "Girl, you're officially off the market!"
I laughed, though a small flutter rose inside my chest—half joy, half something else. Watching Natasha's glowing excitement made me wonder: When will it be my turn?
Wow!
It's true. She's engaged.
"Oh my world, Tasha." I gasped, leaning closer to make sure my eyes weren't tricking me. "Am I really seeing a ring or am I just daydreaming?"
"Wow! Congratulations, babe." Bianca wrapped her arms around her, and I joined in, pulling both of them into a tight squeeze.
We only pulled back when Natasha, practically trembling with joy, was ready to spill.
She couldn't hold it in—her voice was quivering with happiness. "Leonard proposed today! God, I've already called my entire family and they're celebrating in Los Angeles right now."
"You know what?" Bianca suddenly bounced up like a spring. "I think there's a wine I stole from Antoni's bar. We're popping some champagne tonight!" She dashed into the kitchen like a thief in her own house.
I shouted after her from the lounge, "Is it alcoholic? You know I can't handle alcohol with my weak blood cells."
"Fuck alcoholism, Lizzy. Let's drink to zero!" Bianca reappeared triumphantly with a tall bottle of Italian champagne and three martinis. "Damn, ten years of relationship is no joke, bitch."
I blinked, trying to process. "It's… fucking ten years already?"
Natasha and Bianca nodded in unison, and for a moment, my chest tightened. Ten years—loyalty, patience, waiting. Could I survive that long with Sebastian?
"How did he do it?" I sat closer to Natasha, curiosity buzzing.
She squealed, her eyes locked on the ring like it was the sun itself. "Girl, I'm still in shock. Leonard actually went all the way to Hong Kong last week just to get me this ring."
"Here." Bianca handed us each a glass filled to the brim. "Cheers to our new bride."
"Cheers!!!" we chorused, clinking our glasses together.
The bubbles rose to my nose. For a moment, I hesitated—should I risk it? Then I killed the thought and took a gulp, letting the sharp, sweet burn slide down my throat. It was Natasha's night, after all.
As Bianca laughed too loud and Natasha stared dreamily at her hand, I caught myself drifting off into a quiet thought: Will my turn ever come? Or am I just the girl watching everyone else wear the crown first?
"I've always wanted to walk down the aisle someday." Natasha sighed, twirling the diamond on her finger like it was part of her skin already.
Bianca, already finishing her glass, poured herself another like a thirsty fish. "I know, honey. Me too." Her words slurred just a little. At this rate, she'd be tipsy before the end of the evening. Thank God Antoni was the one coming to pick her later.
"So, how did it happen?" I asked, carefully setting my glass down. My limit had already been crossed with just one shot.
---
At exactly 7:30 p.m., I knew Sebastian would be outside waiting to pick me up. My phone was still at his penthouse, forgotten deliberately. Whenever I worked, it distracted me, so I'd left it behind. He probably had called a million times already, and the thought of him getting worried made me restless.
The urge to run into his arms, to feel his lips crash against mine, kept clawing at me. God, I missed those tantalizing lips. I bit mine nervously as I stepped out, my heels clicking against the pavement, and spotted the billionaire's car waiting like a predator in the night.
Sebastian was inside his black G-Wagon SUV, one of the beasts he rarely touched in his garage. He always favored his sleek sports cars, but tonight he had chosen this. Maybe because speed wasn't on his mind. Maybe because tonight, it was me.
The tinted windows kept him hidden until I slipped inside. The moment the door clicked shut, the SUV swallowed me in dim light and low music pulsing from the stereo—something unfamiliar, something that made the air feel like a private party.
"Hey," his voice dropped low, smooth as velvet, as he turned the volume down. "I've been calling. You didn't pick up."
I barely heard him. My eyes lingered on him instead, drinking him in. He looked devastating as always—effortlessly sophisticated yet rough-edged, a man who knew his power. The clean, magnetic scent of his cologne pulled me closer. And of course, his bandana. He never went anywhere without it. I loved slipping it off first whenever we made love, as if unwrapping a secret that only belonged to me.
God, I wanted to kiss him right then. Weeks apart had felt like years, my body aching with a hunger that words could never cover.
I swallowed back the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Oh, I left my phone at home earlier," I explained, trying for casual. "How was your day?"
He sighed, shoulders heavy. "Hectic."
I laughed, soft and nervous, betraying how much I wanted him. "I know."
It was always hectic. Lately, his world had stolen so much of our time together, and I hated it. I hated how much I missed him even when he was right in front of me.
As if he could read my thoughts, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was firm, familiar, hungry. "I miss you," he murmured against my mouth.
I melted into him, shameless in my response, pouring every ounce of my longing into the kiss. "Mmm… I miss you too." Inside, every nerve in me screamed: Don't stop. Don't just kiss me—take me.
But he pulled back, leaving me breathless and aching for more. His gaze swept over my face, sharp and searching. "Did you drink? You smell like alcohol."
That was when I realized—his bandana was already in my hand. Greed would be the death of me. I twirled it between my fingers and gave a sheepish smile. "For Natasha's sake. She got engaged today."
He leaned back in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the steering wheel, and that single gesture was enough to crush my hope for sex tonight.
"Oh," he muttered.
I inhaled deeply, trying to console myself with words instead of touch. "Yeah… after ten years together."
His head snapped toward me. "Ten what?"
He definitely heard me right. "Mm-hmm. She deserves it, don't you think? To finally settle down?"
"Precisely." His agreement was smooth, steady. Then he paused. "That's… a decade."
I nodded, though my mind was screaming at him to quit talking and pull me in for something reckless and hungry. "That's because they've been dating since high school."
"Except that," he murmured, half-distracted, as if the thought intrigued him more than the ache I was silently radiating.
I hadn't tasted him in weeks—it felt like starvation, a slow death stretched over time.
Desperate to reroute the night, I tipped my head toward the stereo. "What are you playing?"
He twisted the knob, letting the bass rumble a little louder. "All Eyez on Me, 2Pac. You like it? He's my favorite."
I bit back the urge to roll my eyes—he despised that. "You know I have no taste in… worthy songs."
The memory hit me—how I once set God's Not Dead by Newsboys as my ringtone. He teased me for weeks.
Without warning, his arm reached back and he set something in my hand. A sleek, boxed phone—brand new.
I blinked at it. A gift? I wasn't expecting that. I was expecting… him. His mouth, his hands, maybe even the heat of wild car sex Bianca swore was romantic and untamed. This was the perfect moment, but instead—he gave me glass and metal when all I wanted was skin and sweat.
My lips twitched at the sight of the phone—2025's latest model glowing in my palm. "Seb, this is nice. Thanks."
He caught the strain in my tone immediately. Not me. If this were before, I'd have squealed, thrown my arms around him, kissed his face a hundred times. But right now? I wasn't in the mood for gadgets.
I turned toward the window, fingers fidgeting with the box.
"Honey?" His voice dropped—low, concerned.
"Hm?" I didn't even glance at him.
That didn't sit well with him. His hand reached over, firm, tilting my jaw until my face met his. "Come here. I've craved you all day."
Exactly the words I'd been starving to hear—but words were nothing if not followed by action.
We locked eyes, heat simmering between us, until his gaze dipped to my lips. And then—finally—his mouth claimed mine.
God, it was happening.
Hallelujah! Praise God!
Amen, somebody!
I wrapped my arms tight around his neck, moaning into the kiss when he guided me smoothly onto his lap. My voice broke against his mouth, shameless. "Seb… does sex in the car feel nice?"
I almost regretted blurting it out, knowing how drained he was after work—but desire was clawing at me, impatient, reckless.
He brushed back the strands of hair shielding my face, his thumb lingering at my cheek. His voice was molten. "Yes. You want us to try it?"
"Yeah, but I thought you were exhausted from work already." Oops—what a lie. I wasn't worried about him; I was selfish. I wanted him.
"Not when I'm around you." His hand slid down, caressing my ass and thighs. "Come on, let's make it quick. I'm starving for dinner already." He pressed a control, and the doors locked with a soft click.
I lifted myself slightly so he could unbuckle his belt and shove his pants down. A nervous laugh slipped from me. "You're crazy."
"Open up for papa." His voice dropped lower, rougher, as he pushed up my mini skirt. Heat pooled in my stomach, anticipation burning through me. "I want to see your speed being on top."
I bit down on my lower lip when his erection brushed my thighs, thick and hard. "You think I'll do better up here?"
"I'll guide you," he promised, voice tight with hunger. The moment he ripped off my underwear, all pretenses fell apart.
I straddled him fully, knees digging into the seat, arms clinging to his shoulders like if I let go, I'd fall straight into the abyss. And maybe I already had—because nothing about this was tender.
Not the way his hands gripped my waist.
Not the way his mouth devoured mine.
And definitely not the way he pushed me down onto him—stretching, filling, breaking me open like I was meant for him alone.
"God—" I gasped, breath strangled as he sank deep, too much and yet exactly what I needed.
My hips rolled, searching, shaky at first, but he seized control almost immediately—his hands bruising on my thighs as he thrust up into me, relentless. Possessive. Like he was determined to ruin me for anyone else.
"Oh…" I whimpered, my head falling back.
"Yeah," he growled, his mouth trailing fire down my neck before he bit—sharp enough to rip another moan from me. "That's it. Let me hear you."
I gripped his shoulders, nails digging in, heart racing, breath ragged. "Sebastian…" The sound of his name slipped out strangled, half a whimper, half a curse.
"Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough, hoarse, eyes locked on mine like I was the only thing that existed. "Louder."
I obeyed. "Sebastian—" a gasp, a moan, a pleading note. "God, don't stop—" He was moving too fast, too precise, guiding me with a force I couldn't resist.
The car rocked beneath us, tinted windows fogged, air thick with heat, sweat, and the chaos we created. Outside, the world didn't exist. There was only the slick sound of skin on skin, my breath catching every time he hit that spot again, and the filthy things he murmured in my ear that made my body tighten in ways I didn't know were possible.
He moved me harder, faster, controlling every roll of my hips like I was his addiction—and I was. Every groan of my name from his lips, every tremble in his hands as he pulled me closer, drove me further over the edge.
"Sebastian…"
"Louder!"
"Sebastian!" I gasped, my senses a haze of pleasure and heat. How could someone be so devastatingly professional in the way he loved?
"I love you like this. Always tight for me," he groaned, thrusting deeper. "Fuck! You feel… insane," he rasped, eyes fluttering closed before snapping back to mine.
And I lost it. Right there, in his lap, body on fire, mind surrendered, screaming his name without restraint. "Seb—Sebastian!"
His chest heaved, voice breaking. "Say it again—"
The wave of release swept through me. "Sebastian! Sebastian!"
And then he came, hard and unrelenting, right after me, our bodies trembling together in the aftermath of everything we couldn't say, only feel.
We crashed together in a blur of sound and sweat, bodies jerking, hearts hammering, voices tangled in curses and need. My hands clutched his hair; his grip around my waist was fierce, possessive, like he could mark me with it.
And then—stillness.
Breathless.
Shaking.
Our faces hovered inches apart, foreheads pressed together, mouths slightly open, panting as if we'd just run through fire.
"You okay?" His concern was quiet but steady, the way he always checks on me after we—well, after everything.
I nodded, legs like jelly, thighs heavy. "Damn… I'm so sore."
"You wreck me," he whispered, raw and low.
I let out a hoarse, breathless laugh. "Good."
He captured my lips in a long, lingering kiss, hungry and soft all at once. "I love you."
"I love you more," I whispered back.
He groaned when I pulled away, collapsing back into the seat. Adjusting his pants, fastening his belt, he stole a glance at me as I smoothed my skirt.
The engine roared to life. "God, I'm so damn hungry."
"Me too," I sighed, sinking into the seat.
"Let's eat out today," he said, pulling into the driveway, still radiating that mix of satisfaction and mischief.
"I already stocked the fridge. We can microwave." Better than splurging on a full meal for two with champagne.
"Please, I insist." He glanced at me briefly, then back to the highway, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was amused.
Fine—this was the first time I'd actually agreed to eat out with him. "Is it… a date?"
He was quiet for a moment, as if weighing the consequences. Maybe he worried it would ruin my reputation for frugality if he said yes. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah."
I exhaled, a mix of hope and nervousness. "Hopefully."