17. Leo
17
LEO
I t makes no fucking sense what this woman does to me.
She shouldn’t have such a visceral effect on my being, yet when my cum hits her tongue and she huffs out a startled noise, I nearly black out from the pleasure.
Stella moves to wipe her chin, but I grab her wrist and yank her up to me. She keeps her mouth open, as if aware on some intrinsic level that I want to see—that I need to see it. The evidence of me on her, in her.
I tug her close, and she stumbles, bracing against my chest. I take my gloved index and middle fingers, scoop the warm spend off her skin, and press both into her mouth.
“There we go,” I say, my voice low and tight. “Can’t have you wasting that when I’ve spent seven years saving it for you.”
She slowly closes her lips around the leather and licks it clean, swallowing audibly. As if stuck in some haze. Finished, she blinks, and I remove myself so she can speak. “What does that mean? You haven’t?—”
“Been with anyone else?” I finish, deviant sensations spinning around my sternum. “How could I, knowing you were out here all by your lonesome, waiting for me?”
That seems to catch her off guard, and she spends several seconds just looking at my throat.
“Beautiful,” I mutter, mesmerized by her mouth, her stare—every-fucking-thing about her.
Those brown eyes are wide and lust-filled, and I grit my teeth to keep from bending her over right here, right now. My cock stirs, likely ready to go again, but I need to play my cards right.
Otherwise, I’ll leave empty-handed, and I refuse to do that.
Pinching her cheeks with my free hand, I push my fingers back in until she gags, then pull them all the way out. Before she has a chance to escape, I tilt my head down and plant a smothering kiss to her lips, swirling my tongue and tasting myself on her.
The mix of musk and her minty blueberry breath sends delectable tension spiraling through my chest. Our teeth clash, and she uses her tongue to push the remnants of my cum into my mouth, sharing like the good little wife she is.
With a frustrated groan, I disconnect. She looks so goddamn ethereal standing there, her red lipstick smudged from me, that I turn away immediately to avoid taking more than she’s ready to give.
“Are we even then?” she asks, dabbing saliva from the corners of her mouth. Her mask of discontent slips back into place. “You got me off seven years ago, and now I’ve gotten you off. Our deal is done.”
She’s putting words in my mouth, but I don’t feel like correcting her yet.
I do have to wonder if she’s purposely misremembering our arrangement and the marriage it promised. Consummation was just an excuse— extra .
Then again, perhaps she’s hoping I forgot or changed my mind. That her sucking me dry would sate me.
Or she thinks I’ve grown tired of her in our time apart. That my interest waned.
Unfortunately for her, it’s never been stronger.
“I don’t remember agreeing to a new deal.” I toss her a grin that has the tips of her ears turning pink—or maybe it’s from me finally bothering to pull up my pants and put my cock away.
It doesn’t matter, I suppose, so long as I know I can affect her. That’s my in here.
I’ll keep her safe, driving her back into my waiting arms.
Before she can blink and try to stop me, and before I can make an even greater fool of myself, I stalk toward the exit and grip the doorknob in one fist, twisting violently. More so than necessary.
“You said ?—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I interrupt over my shoulder, slipping out of the room and into the shadows.
She scrambles after me, her breathing frenzied as she screeches to a halt, her head swiveling left and right as she searches the darkness. Fury radiates from her figure when she turns the wrong way and stomps off to find me.
I smirk at the plain-colored wall as music from the ballroom trickles into the corridor like rainwater.
Tomorrow, my wife.
Frankie hands me a red silk tie, then flops down on the sofa across from the wall-mounted mirror. The guest rooms at the auction site are straight out of an Architectural Digest spread, complete with massive beds, luxurious satin sheets, and remote-controlled blackout curtains.
It’s the picture of ultimate comfort, yet I barely slept at all last night.
A part of me is simply unhappy with being away from home, as I’ve never had much luck sleeping anywhere but my own bed. The other part is filled with an inordinate amount of adrenaline from thinking about my wife sleeping somewhere else in the mansion, all alone for the last time.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Frankie asks, kicking his feet up over the sofa arm and reclining with his hands behind his head. “Your uncle isn’t exactly scouring the earth to find her. Maybe we should just leave her be.”
“Gino might say he’s not looking,” I respond, knotting the tie at my throat, “but I don’t believe him. Since the Elders haven’t been able to make me pay for my crimes fully, I have no doubt they’ll be closing in on her soon. There’s no way her presence is going unnoticed. Not when they know I’m also here.”
My uncle might have been undecided at first with an expectation to rat, but he turned completely after learning that Stella had simply walked out of our lives. Though forced to work under me after my father’s death, the man’s been waiting for an opportunity to correct what he views as treason, but not by Stella—by me .
Because I let her go.
“Why did you let her go?” Frankie asks.
I freeze, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Excuse me?”
He stares up at the vaulted ceiling. “You didn’t think I bought the story about her just walking out of one of the most guarded towers in Boston, did you? Give me a little credit.”
“I…wanted her to have more.” My jaw shifts, clenching tight. “A real life.”
“In exchange for your own?” He cocks a brow. “I mean, I’m sure you predicted they’d go after her.”
I had, but there was never a version of that image that ended with them actually getting her.
I’ll do whatever necessary, manufacture whatever meeting or rendezvous, to make sure of it.
A knock sounds at the door, and Frankie gets up to answer, one hand on the gun he smuggled in at his waist. Because of the auction’s strict no-violence policy, we had to get a little creative in retrieving our weapons, enlisting the assistance of one of the royals in attendance.
I slide my gloves onto my hands, stretching my fingers.
Genevieve’s smiling face appears in the doorway, and Frankie lets out an irritated noise, stepping back to let her in. She sweeps right past him in a bold, shimmering black evening gown, her toned biceps and deep cleavage on display in the strapless piece.
Without greeting me, she makes a beeline for the minibar in the far corner of the room, then immediately uncaps a small bottle of water. She tosses Frankie a Diet Coke, which he catches and pops open before taking a seat on the chaise at the foot of the bed.
Genevieve struts over before draping herself on my shoulder. She’s several inches taller than Stella, even without heels, so our eyes are almost level in the reflection.
An image of her yesterday with my wife flashes through my mind, and I shake her off. She chuckles, the sound dark and sensual, and every fiber of my being regrets roping her into this convoluted plan.
“Ready to get your bid on?” she quips, unbothered by the change in atmosphere in the room.
“I’m ready for you to be out of my life.”
Genevieve pouts, leaning forward to adjust her bloodred lipstick. “Ugh, are you still mad about yesterday? I was playing , Leopoldo. Just like you asked me to.”
I cut her a measured look. “I didn’t ask you to seduce my wife.”
“You didn’t even tell me she was your wife! And she didn’t mention anything either. How was I supposed to know?”
Frankie clicks his tongue. “She makes a good point. You can’t respect boundaries you don’t know about.”
“Ah, but she did know when she kissed her.” Shrugging into my suit jacket, I smooth down the collar and button it in the middle. “If not for the fact I already paid for your services, I’d have killed you for touching her.”
“You know,” she says, “most men would die for the chance to watch me entertain their partners. My own husband’s begged me to bring others into our bedroom.”
“Probably so he doesn’t have to touch you himself,” Frankie mutters against his can.
There’s a story there, only I don’t care enough to ask about it.
I glare at her. “Unfortunately, I have no interest in seeing you in any state of undress. Ever.”
She smiles, turning away from the mirror. “Not even if I were riding your wife’s face? Or making her come with my mouth on her pretty pussy?”
“Not even if you sucked the cum from her cunt after I finished with her.” Heading for the door, I glance over my shoulder, ignoring the mischievous glint in her dark eyes. “Touch Stella again, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
I leave the room without another word, slamming the door shut behind me. The sound echoes down the hall, and a couple coming out of a different room across from mine pauses to stare inquisitively. I nod at them, tugging at my lapels, and make my way to the ballroom.
Like the rest of the mansion, the ballroom is ostentatious with its almost-reflective polished floor and furniture plated with twenty-two-karat gold finishings. Luckily, the obnoxious wealth is hushed by the dim lighting, kept low to promote anonymity in the crowd.
Most people are here purely for the spectacle of an auction. The only thing rich people love more than throwing their money around is watching others do the same.
A handful will bid on whatever items are put up onstage. Typically, because viewing opens up earlier in the afternoon, attendees will know what they want and what they’re willing to pay for it, so bidding wars aren’t terribly likely.
But I foresee one happening, and satisfaction wraps around my ribs at the thought.
I find Stella immediately in the room, despite her being directly in the middle and engulfed in shadows. She stands beside a pub-style table, nursing an umbrella drink, with her hair in that same updo from last night.
She looks positively unsettled.
It’s delicious.
Her outfit is different, though, which is likely the cause of the discomfort. A spotlight washes over the crowd for a moment, giving me a plain view of her before it lands onstage. The dress she wears is white lace and partially see-through, revealing skin I’ve only had the pleasure of seeing once.
Tight, perfect tits. Diamond-hard, dusky-pink nipples. Her tender cunt covered only by a nude thong.
A few people are standing far too close, stealing glances at her from the corners of their eyes. For some reason, it makes my cock twitch behind the zipper of my slacks to know they want her.
For no one other than me will have her.
Bracing my palms on the table, I bracket Stella in from behind, pressing my front into her backside. “You look good enough to eat,” I mutter against her ear, my desire for her unwilling to take a back seat to reason.
“And you sound like the villain in a corny fairy tale.” She doesn’t try to get away, nor does she turn her head to look at me. Instead, she just takes a sip of her drink, keeping her gaze trained on the stage.
“Does that make you the damsel in distress?”
“Only because you’re here.”
I shift, relishing in the feel of her ass cradled against my dick. “I never quite understood why everyone said you were nothing more than a quiet, boring carbon copy of your sisters. Dull, they told me back then. No one in my family could fathom why I’d married such a dud.”
One of my hands leaves the table’s surface, dropping to her hip and slipping lower. I flatten my palm to the outside of her thigh, squeezing her soft flesh.
“But from the moment I met you, you’ve been nothing short of bewitching. I think people have somehow mistaken your ire for monotony.”
She doesn’t say anything. The auctioneer—a tall, pale man named Reaper with long white hair, dark eyes that seem to penetrate everyone he looks at, and several piercings on his face and nipples—takes the stage, introducing himself to the audience before moving on to the first item.
“Maybe they think that because it’s what I show them,” Stella says quietly, spinning her drink in her hands.
“Why should I be any different?”
Stella clenches her jaw. “You’re not.”
“No? You’ve been lying to me then?”
“ No , I just—” She halts, sucking in a breath. “Don’t go getting any ideas, okay? Telling you the truth doesn’t mean anything, just like you being here all of a sudden doesn’t.”
“Is that what you think, stellina ? That us being here, it’s a coincidence?”
“Of course not. I don’t believe in coincidences. I’m sure you have some convoluted explanation for showing up out of the blue, but I’m not interested in hearing it.”
Amusement toys with the corners of my mouth as I study her profile. She keeps her mesmerizing face forward, as if hiding her eyes from me might keep her truth within. But I didn’t spend seven years watching her from afar without learning everything about this woman, and I can tell she’s still sour over how things ended between us.
“Everything happens for a reason, right? That’s the kind of research you do, trying to identify potential genetic abnormalities that might cause health issues in people. A reason behind a problem so you can one day develop a solution.”
Her spine stiffens. Clearly, she didn’t expect me to know much about what she does for a living. “Do you honestly think being a creepy stalker means you know me? News flash, it’s actually pathetic.”
“Most men in my position would have killed you the first time you talked to them like that,” I tell her, pushing my cock more firmly against her ass. “You’re lucky I happen to like being hurt by you.”
“I don’t think ‘lucky’ is the word I’d use.”
“No?” I slide my hand forward, my throat thick with desire. My fingers skim her thong, though the fact I can’t feel her because of my gloves makes me irrationally irritated. Keeping my hand beneath her dress, I slowly work one off, then resume my exploration.
“Would you stop? I have no clue when they’re announcing the orchid, and I don’t want to miss it because you think you’re entitled to my body.”
“Everyone in this place thinks they’re entitled to your body. They’d pay millions of dollars just to see it up close.” My teeth graze the shell of her ear, and she shivers as my fingers dip beneath the elastic of her underwear and spread her soaked flesh. “The difference is, I’m the only one who actually has a claim here.”
“I’m not a piece of land. You can’t?—”
She’s fucking dripping, so my index finger slides right into her, stealing the rest of her sentence. Her muscles contract, warm and so goddamn wet that it takes me a moment to steady my own breathing.
“You talk too much. Try enjoying yourself for an evening, baby.”
A small, almost-inaudible gasp slips through her lips, and she frowns. “I cannot enjoy myself in your presence.”
“Mmm, that’s not how I remember it. In fact, I distinctly recall you enjoying yourself all over my face. Right in the middle of my kitchen.” My finger pumps deeper, curling. “Perhaps you need a reminder? It has been quite some time.”
“Whose fault is that?” she says through gritted teeth, gripping the table and abandoning the placard with her guest number on it.
“Not mine, if that’s what you’re implying.” My movements in and out of her are agonizingly slow. Electric heat rushes through my veins, and I grunt in her ear as her hips seek friction, her cunt squeezing me so hard that my fingers start to go numb. “If it’d been solely up to me, I’d have tracked you down the second you asked Irene for help escaping, then tied you to my bed until you apologized for trying to rescind our deal.”
Even if it was my idea for you to leave in the first place. I regretted it the moment she walked out.
Someone next to us shoves their hand in the air, bidding on an auction item. Stella’s spine straightens as if she just remembered that we’re in public. Granted, I’m angled in a way that blocks her from onlookers at our sides, but there’s nothing stopping the crowd in front of us from twisting and getting an eyeful.
I watch her throat bob as she swallows, and then her cunt gets even tighter.
Smirking against her bare shoulder, I move my thumb up and strum at her clit. Stella jolts, apparently not expecting the contact, and her mouth falls open as she glares at the stage.
“You didn’t honestly think I’d be satisfied with last night, did you?” I ask, stroking her flesh languidly. My eyes are glued to her profile, tracking every twitch, every sharp inhale, every tiny noise she makes so I can get her pleasure exactly right.
Onstage, a diamond necklace goes for an amount I don’t care to pay attention to, and they sweep it away swiftly. From the corner of my eye, I see the illusion of bright, glowing petals, and every muscle in my body tenses.
With my free hand, I grip Stella’s chin and angle it toward me, capturing her mouth with mine. She jerks back, then seems to sink into the act, as if everything else melts away at the mere meeting of our lips.
Delight swirls in my stomach, a massive fireball of emotion I’m not used to. My fingers work harder, faster, attempting to wring the euphoria directly from Stella’s soul so maybe I can keep bits of it for myself.
She closes her eyes, slumping back against me. Even when she grips my wrist, it’s not to bat me away but to guide me better—to show me precisely where she needs me. I add a third finger, swallowing down my own desire.
“Fuck me, you’re so goddamn tight. I actually don’t know if I’ll fit in you later.” My words are barely more than harsh whispers against her skin. “I’ll have to stretch you nice and wide so it doesn’t hurt too much.”
A soft moan drifts toward me. “Stop talking .”
“But don’t you feel what it’s doing? You’re practically milking me, baby. You’re ready to come, aren’t you?”
If I stop talking, it’s possible she’ll be able to listen to the auction in real time. My hand leaves her face, slamming down on the table where hers was moments ago.
“Come,” I tell her in a rough, choked voice as my dick throbs and begs for release. I clench my teeth, balling my fist on the table in resistance. “While we’re surrounded by dozens of people who wouldn’t care if you lived or died, come on my fucking fingers. Like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do or give me and you can’t think of anything else. Come while these fuckers stand here, none the wiser.”
It takes a second, but she gasps a moment later, squeezing her eyes shut as my hand on the table lifts into the air. Her cunt grips me, sucking and soaking me where I’m lodged as deep as I can get three fingers. She spasms, her inner muscles throbbing, and drags my face to hers for a kiss while she crests that blissful wave.
There isn’t enough time for her to stop it all from happening.
The second she opens her eyes, those beautiful brown irises like molten lava with the aftershocks of her orgasm, Reaper’s voice calls out over the crowd. “ Sold! The Orchidée Sans Nom to guest number seventeen hundred.”