Leon
Show me what I do to you.
The words echo in my head, and something primal snaps loose inside my chest. She has no idea…no fucking idea what she does to me.
I settle over her, caging her in with my arms, and force myself to go slow even though every instinct I have is screaming to claim her. To mark her. To make her understand that she's mine now in every way that matters.
"Florrie," I say, my voice rougher than I intend. "I need you to understand something."
Her eyes are wide, pupils blown, lips parted. She's so goddamn beautiful it hurts to look at her.
"What?" she whispers.
"When I touch you, when I taste you, when I'm inside you..." I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. "It's not just sex. It's not just fulfilling a mandate or getting you pregnant. It's claiming you. Do you understand?"
She shivers beneath me. "Yes."
"Say it." My hand slides under the t-shirt she's wearing, my t-shirt, and I feel her stomach quiver beneath my fingers. "Say you understand what this means."
"You're claiming me." Her breath hitches when my fingers trace along her ribs. "Making me yours."
"That's right." I pull back to look at her face. "And once I do this, once I have you, there's no going back. You'll be mine, Florrie. In every way. Forever."
The word hangs between us. Forever.
I watch her process it. Watch the fear and want war in her eyes. Watch her decide.
"Okay," she breathes. "Make me yours."
Something feral takes over.
I kiss her again, harder this time, swallowing the small sound she makes. My hand continues its exploration under the shirt, mapping the softness of her skin, the curves I've been thinking about since the warehouse.
She's perfect. Soft where I'm hard. Warm where I'm cold. Everything I didn't know I needed until she stumbled through that door.
I break the kiss to trail my mouth down her jaw, her throat. She tilts her head back, giving me access, and the trust in that gesture makes my chest tight.
"Leon," she gasps when I bite down gently on the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.
"I've got you," I murmur against her skin. "I've got you, moya krasotka."
My beautiful.
The endearment slips out in Russian before I can stop it, but she doesn't question it. Just arches into my touch when my hand slides higher under the shirt.
I need to see her. Need to see all of her.
I sit back on my heels and reach for the hem of the t-shirt. She watches me, chest rising and falling rapidly, but doesn't stop me when I start pulling it up.
"Arms up," I command softly.
She obeys, and I peel the shirt off, leaving her in nothing but that scrap of lace she calls underwear.
Fuck.
She's perfect. Small breasts, rosy nipples already peaked. The curve of her waist, the flare of her hips into those thick thighs I’ve been dying to get my hands on. Her skin is going to look so good marked by my hands, my mouth, my teeth.
"Don't," I say when I see her start to cover herself. "Don't hide from me."
Her arms drop to her sides, and I watch the blush spread down her chest.
"Beautiful," I say, and mean it. "You're so fucking beautiful, Florrie."
"Leon—" Whatever she was going to say cuts off in a gasp when I lean down and suck one nipple into my mouth.
I work her with my tongue, my teeth, while my hand comes up to palm her other breast. She writhes beneath me, making these small desperate sounds that go straight to my cock.
I'm so hard it hurts. Have been since I sat against the headboard with her in my lap. But this isn't about me. Not yet.
This is about showing her what she does to me. About worshipping every inch of her until she understands that she's mine.
I switch to her other breast, giving it the same attention, and her hands come up to tangle in my hair. Not pulling me away, but holding me there.
"Please," she whimpers.
"Please what?" I kiss my way down her stomach, feeling her muscles quiver. "Tell me what you want."
"I don't—" She breaks off, breathing hard. "I don't know."
"Yes, you do." I hook my fingers in the waistband of her underwear. "You want me to make you feel good. Want me to show you what it's like to be mine."
"Yes." The word is barely audible.
"Then lift your hips for me."
She does, and I slide the lace thong down her legs, tossing it aside.
Now she's completely bare beneath me, and the sight makes my mouth water.
Perfect. She's absolutely perfect.
I settle between her thighs, pushing them wider, and watch her face as realization dawns about what I'm about to do.
"Leon—"
"Shh." I press a kiss to the inside of her knee. "Let me worship you, moya krasotka. Let me show you how much I want you."
Another kiss, higher on her thigh. She's trembling now, her hands fisted in the sheets beside her hips.
"Has anyone ever done this for you?" I ask, already knowing the answer from her reaction.
"No." Her voice shakes.
Good. I'll be the first. The only.
"Then let me ruin you for anyone else," I murmur against her skin. "Let me make you mine in every way."
I look up at her one more time, meeting those wide brown eyes.
Her nod is small, almost hesitant, but it’s there, clear enough to burn away the last thread of restraint I was clinging to.
The first taste of her hits like a drug.
Warm, slick, sweet in a way that makes my jaw clench and my cock throb painfully against the confines of my trousers. I groan low against her flesh, the sound vibrating through her, and she jerks, a sharp little gasp escaping her lips.
I flatten my tongue and drag it up the center of her in one long, deliberate stroke, savoring the way her thighs tremble on either side of my shoulders.
Her hips lift instinctively toward me and I press my forearm across her lower belly, pinning her gently but firmly to the mattress. Keeping her exactly where I want her.
Every flick of my tongue draws a new sound from her.
Soft whimpers, broken gasps, little keening noises when I circle her clit without quite touching it the way she’s already starting to crave.
I learn her fast. The way her breath hitches when I suck lightly.
The way her fingers twist harder in the sheets when I use the flat of my tongue to lap broad and slow.
The way her whole body tightens like a drawn bowstring the moment I start tracing tight, relentless circles around that swollen bud.
I could stay here for hours.
I want to stay here for hours.
Her scent is in my lungs, her taste coating my tongue, and every tiny shudder that runs through her feels like a victory I didn’t know I was fighting for.
She’s mine to unravel. Mine to ruin. Mine to keep trembling and pleading under my mouth until she forgets what the world felt like before this moment.
“Leon—oh god—” Her voice cracks, higher now, edged with something desperate.
I hum against her in acknowledgment, letting the vibration sink deep, and she arches hard, a choked cry tearing out of her throat. My free hand slides up her thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to leave faint marks. Proof that she let me in. Proof that she chose this.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
Her chest heaves, nipples tight and flushed, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Her lips are parted, swollen from earlier kisses, eyes glassy and dark. She looks wrecked already, and I’ve barely started.
“Tell me,” I rasp, voice thick. “Tell me you want more.”
Her throat works. “I—yes. Please. Don’t stop.”
That please is going to live in my head forever.
I drop my head again, hungrier this time. No more teasing. I seal my mouth over her clit and suck, steady, rhythmic and relentless, while two fingers slide down and press inside her.
She’s soaked. Hot. So tight that my cock jerks hard at the thought of being buried there soon. I curl my fingers, searching, stroking, until I find the spot that makes her hips buck violently and a raw, broken moan rip out of her.
There.
I attack it without mercy.
Fingers curling, tongue flicking, sucking, licking, relentless pressure until her thighs start shaking uncontrollably around my head. Her hands fly to my hair, gripping hard, not sure whether she’s pulling me closer or trying to push me away from the intensity.
She’s babbling now, half-words, pleas, my name over and over like a prayer.
“Leon—Leon—please—I’m—oh fuck—I’m gonna—”
I don’t let up.
I growl against her instead, the sound vibrating straight through her clit, and suck harder while my fingers rub that perfect spot inside her in tight, insistent circles.
She breaks.
Her whole body locks tight, back bowing off the bed, thighs clamping around my head, a raw, shattered cry tearing from her throat as she comes undone.
Wet heat floods my tongue, her inner walls pulsing and fluttering around my fingers in frantic little spasms. I work her through every wave, licking slower now, softer, drawing it out until she’s whimpering, oversensitive, hips twitching with aftershocks.
Only then do I ease off.
I press one last gentle kiss to her swollen clit making her jolt, and crawl back up her body, settling my weight over her. Her eyes are dazed, pupils blown, cheeks flushed deep. She looks like she’s been through a war she barely won.
I brush damp hair off her forehead, thumb tracing the arch of her cheekbone.
“Breathe,” I murmur.
She tries. The breaths come shaky and uneven.
I kiss her softly letting her taste herself on my tongue. She makes a small, surprised sound, then opens for me, kissing me back with lazy, sated heat.
When I pull back, her eyes find mine.
“You…” She swallows, voice hoarse. “You’re really good at that.”
A low laugh rumbles out of me, unexpected and rough. “I’m glad you think so because I’m going to need to do that every day.”
She bites her lip, suddenly shy again despite everything we just did. “I’ve never… come like that.”
I drop my forehead to hers, breathing her in. “Let it be the first of many, then.”
I kiss her again, deeper this time, slower, letting her feel every inch of the truth in it. My cock is still aching, thick and heavy between us, but I make no move to push for more. Not yet.
She needs to feel this first, the afterglow, the safety, the certainty that I’m not going to take and take until there’s nothing left of her even if I want to.
I roll to my side, pulling her against my chest, tucking her head under my chin. Her body curls into mine like it belongs there.
“Sleep a little more,” I murmur into her hair. “We’ve got time.”
She makes a soft, sleepy sound of agreement, already drifting, her fingers curling loosely into my shirt again.