The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (53 page)

He smirked, and bent down to rifle through the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Just wondering,” I said, casually, “but when did you buy them, or are they old stock?”

He grinned at me, and shook his head. “Nope, new packet. Check it out.”

He tossed me the small box and I saw that it was true: the seal hadn’t been broken.

“So, no need to practice putting one on then?”

I was teasing him: ten years ago, he’d admitted, somewhat shamefaced, that he’d practiced putting on a condom so he’d know what to do when the time came.

Sebastian laughed.

“Well, I haven’t practiced
that
recently, but I think I can remember what to do.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” I said raising my eyebrows. “When did you buy these?”

“Second day of the hostile environment training.”

“But you were still mad at me then!” I said, very surprised.

“Didn’t stop me wanting you,” he replied, grinning back at me.

“Hmm, well. Let me see if
I
can remember what to do,” I said, raising one eyebrow.

His grin widened and he stood in front of me with his hands on his hips, his erection heading in my general direction.

I tore open the box and pulled out a foil packet, running it down his length, and tapping him on his tip lightly.

“Whoa, careful!” he breathed out.

“Wimp! I thought you were a Marine not a mouse.”

“Just be careful with my weapon,” he shot back.

“Close your eyes and relax.”

“Why, what are you going to do?” he said, warily.

“Don’t you trust me?” I said, smiling innocently.

“Not with that look on your face,” he said, but closed his eyes anyway.

I ripped open the foil and pinched the end between my thumb and forefinger, but before I rolled it on, I leaned forward and took him in my mouth.

“Fuck!” he hissed between his teeth, as I stroked my mouth up and down him.

He rested his hands on my shoulders and flexed automatically, sending him deeper into my throat. I pulled back slightly and bared my teeth, making him shudder.

I sucked hard, and he groaned.

“No, baby. I want to be inside you.”

I gave another not-so-gentle tug, and released him.

He shook his head, his eyes amused but heated.

I smiled up at him and ran my hands over his ass, enjoying the defined dip where hip met muscle.

“Just put that fucking thing on,” he said. “You’re killing me here.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, Sebastian. We’ve waited ten years; you’re not going to expire in the next 30 seconds.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he muttered.

I held the condom at the tip of his penis, and as slowly as was humanly possible, I rolled it down him, making every second, every millimeter count.

He brushed my hands away as soon as I was finished.

“My turn,” he said, his voice allowing no argument.

I lay back on the bed, and raised my arms to pull him down to me.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said. “My turn, remember? Pull your knees up.”

“Yes, sir!” I barked, and threw up a salute.

“Are you mocking the US Marine Corps, lady?” he snarled.

“Why? What are you going to do about it?”

The expression on his face changed subtly, and I had a feeling I was going to regret my challenging words.

I slid my feet up the bed as commanded, and watched with a mixture of anticipation and delicious foreboding as his head disappeared between my thighs.

His tongue flicked up and I was so aroused I nearly came on the spot, my body bowing to meet
him.

For a second, he pulled back to glance up at me, grinned wickedly, and continued with his erotic assault that had me moaning at an embarrassing volume.

Then he hooked his shoulders under my knees and lifted my whole lower body off the bed, so my weight rested on my upper back.

And he was merciless.

My orgasm began to build quickly and even as the waves tore me apart, he didn’t stop until every bone in my body had turned to liquid.

I couldn’t help the nasty little thought that darted through my brain: practice makes perfect.

But he didn’t give me time to think too deeply because he laid my hips back down on the bed, and positioned himself over me.

“I’ve waited a very long time for this,” he said.

Then he slid into me, inch by slow inch, as my body adjusted to his invading presence.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Caro. I can feel you all around me.
So fucking tight!
”

And I could certainly feel every inch of him. My numb brain began to fill with memories, the times, the places, the many, many times he’d made love to me before. Many times, but somehow too few times.

I ran my nails down his back again, then pressed the tips of my fingers into his tight muscles.

He groaned, continuing to stroke slowly in and out.

Ten years ago, the boy he’d been had been unable to stop himself from racing to the finish line. Now I was benefiting from his experience.

He held his weight on his forearms, and gradually increased the speed. I felt the cool metal of his dog tags on my skin over my heart, which was beating furiously fast, as my body began to respond again and again.

Death by orgasm—what a way to go.

I moaned out his name, and he seemed to lose a fraction of his careful control because he started to move faster. Soon his hips were plunging fiercely, and I absorbed every delicious thrust as he ground into me.

His eyes were wide open, staring down at me, almost wild in their intensity, then his mouth was on mine, our tongues twisting and twining together.

I tilted my hips up to meet him and felt his body go rigid; he flexed deeply once more then stilled, his breath coming in rapid gasps.

I wrapped my legs around him, locking my ankles behind his waist and clenched inside, milking every last bit of him.

Then he let his arms give way, burying his face in my shoulder.

A slow minute passed, and gradually, our breathing began to return to normal, and I felt his lips pressing lightly into my neck.

He lowered his hand to where we were joined, making sure that the condom hadn’t gone missing in action, and pulled out of me carefully.

He rolled onto his back, and peeled off the thin rubber, pulling a face as he tied a knot in the end of the condom before dropping it into the garbage can. Then he leaned up on one elbow to look at me, resting his free hand on my stomach.

“Are you okay?” he said, tenderly planting a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose.

I wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

I’d
promised
myself I’d never get involved with another man in the military; I’d been
determined
never again to be attracted to a younger man; I
knew
that revisiting the past was a bad, bad idea; and I sensed that Sebastian was a volatile mixture of intense emotions and unexamined anger at the past.

And yet, my reckless body sang every time he touched me.

“Yes, I think so,” I replied, my voice carefully neutral.

I pushed his hand away and sat up, ignoring his confused expression.

“Where are you going?”

“Just to get some water,” I said, without looking at him.

I felt his eyes on me as I walked into the bathroom, brutally aware that my forty-year old body couldn’t match the exquisite perfection of his.

I pulled on the bathrobe and drank some water from the faucet. The bathroom mirror reflected my flushed face and tangled hair. I’d picked up my hairbrush to resolve one of the issues when I heard Sebastian, and turned to see him standing in the doorway behind me.

“Caro, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I said, too brightly. “I’m fine.”

His eyes met mine in the mirror and I could see that he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t challenge me either. Silently, he took the brush from my hands and slowly, carefully, brushed my hair until it hung in tidy waves down my back.

“You have beautiful hair, Caro. I’m glad you kept it long.”

His tone was gentle, almost loving.

I shrugged.

“Every now and then I decide to get it cut off; especially after I’ve been somewhere I haven’t been able to shower for a couple of weeks.”

“That would be a crime,” he said solemnly.

“You can talk!” I said, pointing my chin at the haze of golden hair that clung to his skull.

His lips twitched in a small smile.

“Believe me, babe, I’d grow it if I could. Maybe I should go to my CO and tell him my girlfriend wants me to…”

He stopped abruptly.

I sighed. “It’s okay: I keep forgetting which decade I’m in, too. It’s so strange.”

He nodded in relief.

“Yeah, this is so weird, I feel the same. It’s as if nothing’s changed but everything’s changed. It’s like being in some crazy time machine. I keep expecting your husband to be banging down the door.”

I winced.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m doing it again.”

I smiled, painfully.

“Oh well, I imagine you’ve had some experience with husbands banging on the door.”

“Don’t, Caro.”

I stared at him for a fraction of a second, then pushed past him, back into the bedroom.

I couldn’t believe he’d mentioned my ex-husband. Didn’t we already have enough painful memories between us? Apparently not.

I heard the faucet running, and he followed me, carrying a glass.

He handed it to me silently, and I took a small sip before placing it on the cabinet next to the bed.

“Thank you.”

He sat back on the bed, covering his lower half with the sheet.

“Caro, I know this is fucking weird but it’s good, too, isn’t it? I mean, not everyone gets a second chance.”

Is that what this was, a second chance? But a second chance at what? A second chance to rip ourselves apart again?

“Today was fun,” I said, trying to think it through, “and tonight was … good, but the reality is: I’m based in New York and spend between three and six months of the year away from home. You’re a Marine and go wherever they send you. Presumably this next tour of Afghanistan will be six months or maybe longer? And then where, because let’s face it, Sebastian, the chances of you getting posted to the Corps’ Division of Public Affairs in New York is slim to none—especially with your record. So I’m not sure what sort of ‘second chance’ you have in mind.”

Sebastian’s body went rigid with sudden, suppressed rage, and then he leapt off the bed, glaring down at me, gloriously naked—and very angry.

“Christ, it’s like listening to an old record, Caro! You
always
try to think of reasons why we can’t be together!”

“What do you mean ‘always’? I haven’t seen you for ten years!”

“That’s the whole fucking point, Caro! You used to say this shit to me when I was 17, and you’re still doing it now. We wasted
ten years
and you’re worried about a few thousand miles? Hell, we’ve got airplanes, we’ve got email, they’ve invented fucking cell phones. Jesus, if it comes down to it, I’ll even write you a fucking letter!”

I bit back a rather hysterical giggle that began to bubble up.

“You write letters?”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, but his eyes were still tight with emotion.

“I’ll write you on both sides of the fucking paper, Caro.”

“How can I refuse such an astonishing offer?”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Are you shouting at me?”

“Yes!”

“Then, ‘yes’ to you, too.” I sighed. “Look, today, tonight—it’s been fun. But like I said to you before, I’m really not looking to get tied down again. I work
a lot
and I love what I do. I’m still mad at you for screwing up my travel papers. I won’t get paid until I’ve filed a story, and I won’t be able to do
that
until I get to Leatherneck. All this time, I’m not earning—and I have a
very
expensive mortgage to finance.”

He rested his hands on his hips, and looked me in the eye.

“I’m sorry about the money, Caro, and I’m sorry that I made you mad at me again, but I’m not sorry about what I did. I hoped I’d get a chance to spend some time with you, but I would have done it just to keep you safe.”

I sighed. “This is getting us nowhere.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to me, and rested his elbows on his knees.

I had the opportunity to study his finely muscled back, sculpted shoulders and glowing, gold skin—my golden boy.