Chapter 13
Fallen Leaves
Prim had read enough history to know that there are some moments that change everything, that turn the world on its axis, that no one can escape.
This was that moment for her. Her sitting on his lap, the heat of him beneath her a solid, inescapable reality.
His lips on her ear, her neck, on her skin that was, in this moment, surrendered to him.
Her dress undone, her body exposed beyond any idea of propriety.
His fingers around the sensitive skin of her breast.
“Say my name again, Prim.”
His voice in his ear was a new form of torture that was so sweetly burning. It made something warm pool low in her belly, her body tensing and melting at the same time.
“I want to hear it, Prim. It’s mine,” he growled, his thumb stroking her aching peak.
“Leo!”
Her body arched shamelessly to him, chasing his touch, his heat, him. Reason, sensibility, and logic lay in tatters around them, as discarded as the sapphire necklace in the moss.
“There it is,” he purred, satisfied.
He moved to undo the bow that held her chemise in place.
Prim studied him, at his focused look, his steady touch.
His hands smoothed the chemise off her shoulders, following its descent with his palms, baring her skin inch by inch.
The soft fabric slid across her sensitive skin, a quiet caress of fire.
Prim held her breath only to let it out as a low sigh.
The sound made him look up, his face relaxed but his eyes a raging storm.
He pulled her closer to him and glanced at her lips.
Prim shivered in anticipation, yet in this moment, he felt magnanimous and closed the distance to draw her in a deep kiss.
His hands went from her waist to her chest, until they curved around the soft, aching weight of her breasts.
He cupped her, his thumbs sweeping in slow, deliberate circles over peaks that tightened instantly under his attention.
Her head fell back, exposing her neck to him. Leo moved, his tongue licking her bare skin there, lower to her collarbone. Then he dipped his head and caught one taut nipple in his mouth.
“Aah!” Prim bit on her hand to stop herself from screaming.
“Yes, this. I will take this too.”
He breathed over her now-wet breast before flicking his tongue over her once more.
Prim lost command of her body. Her hand flew to his hair, to push him away or to pull her closer, not even she knew which.
She felt the scrape of his stubble against her skin and the velvet of his tongue at the same time.
The rough and the tender. Leo knew what he was doing, how he created a delicious pattern with soft licks, feather touches, and relentless, wet pulls that made her moan.
There was a voice inside her, a sensible voice that still held onto what was proper, sensible, and what was safe.
It was a voice that told her what it meant that Leo knew what he was doing.
He had done it before times and time again, with who knew how many women.
She was just the last in line. And she tried really hard to hold on to that voice, to heed its warning.
But she could not. All she could do was feel him and his touch.
That's when she felt it. The digging of teeth into her skin. Leo was laying claim to her body again. He bit down lightly on the skin under her breast, and then he sucked that little patch of flesh, claiming it from him for himself, like putting a flag or a symbol on the things you own.
“Leo, don't!” she begged.
“Don't what, Miss P.J.?” he roared lowly. “I told you, you were going to wear me. Will you wear me, Prim?”
She knew she had to say no, push him back.
She was sure, certain deep down in her heart of hearts that Leo would never hurt her.
If she wanted to stop, truly wanted to stop, if his touch was unpleasant, scarring, painful, he was going to stop.
He wouldn't force himself on her against her will.
In reality, this was a battle with herself. And she was losing.
“Don’t worry, Prim. I am not as flashy as him. I don't want the whole world to know. I will know, and that’s enough.”
Prim dared one look to him, fighting the haze he had poured on her. Leo was there, anticipating her. His look was hooded, deep, unraveling. Perhaps Prim was too hasty to declare that he was not going to hurt her. Right here, he was the danger prowling in the dark.
I would know that here,” he said and sucked once more on her sensitive skin, “you would have my mark. I will be the only one who knows that here,” he bit hard on the skin on her waist, “you are branded by me.”
“Ah, Leo!”
“Yes, Prim, it is I doing this to you.”
Leo leaned closer, his touch travelled down her ankles.
He found the hem of her dress. His fingers played with the skin she exposed under that skirt.
Prim shivered on his lap. There was something primal inside her that told her that if she thought there was a limit, that limit was about to be evaporated. Leo was not done with her yet.
His hand breached all the layers of clothing until he found her stockinged calf. Prim gasped, a sharp, shallow sound that was less protest and more pure, startled sensation. He licked on that spot behind her ear. All resistance was burnt to the ground.
His ascent was slow, agonizing, and so sweet. He climbed up over the covered skin, his fingers as if slowly mapping her skin.
“Oh, god, Leo!”
“How deliciously you curl my name in your mouth. No, it’s not yours anymore. My mouth.”
Her speech and motor functions were blown into smithereens. And when his fingers climbed past the silk of her garter and found the bare skin of her inner thigh, Prim had to bite down on her own lip to keep her cry from being heard across all of London.
He took that as encouragement to keep going. And if her melted body was not indication enough, surely the way she moved to meet his searing touch, impatient and wanton, relayed a clear message. Shame painted her cheeks red. Or it might have been lust that made her skin inflamed.
She didn’t know what it was she craved, but she knew that his touch wasn’t close enough.
“Please,” she begged.
His response was a long lick on her neck as he adjusted her on his lap, just enough, just so that her legs fell a little open.
She looked down at herself, barely recognizing the sight.
On one side, her skirt fell with the intended cascade of fabric over her thighs and his legs.
But it was merely an illusion. On the other side, it was gathered high on her thigh, exposing her from the knee up, his hand scandalously dipped in the space between her thighs.
“I have more to claim, Prim,” he rumbled.
“Yes,” she surrendered completely.
He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound, and his fingers moved higher.
Until he met her core, the aching, desperate center of her existence.
His touch was deft, capable, torturous. He caressed her folds, once, slowly, a soft, testing stroke that tore a ragged sob from her throat.
There were no more limits. She had incinerated them all.
For Prim, the universe had collapsed to this single, searing point of contact. And still, it was not enough.
“Leo, please.”
“This is mine,” he growled, his thumb circling the sensitive apex of her need, making her jerk against him. “All of it. Say it.”
Prim’s eyes snapped open, meeting his. The heat she saw there, raw, possessive, utterly feral, floored her. It was the look of a predator poised to devour its prize. In that moment, Prim did not mind being devoured. She welcomed it. She needed it. Now.
“Say it, Prim.”
“It’s yours,” she gasped, her body bowing into his touch. “All yours. Please.”
Her words became a trigger that unleashed him.
A deep, guttural sound echoed in his chest, shaking her very existence.
A storm hit her all at once. His mouth returned to her neck not to kiss, but to consume.
His other hand claimed her breast once more, molded against the orb.
His thumb and finger closed around a pebbled peak rolling and pinching, walking that thin line between pleasure and pain.
His hand between her legs began its exploration. His fingers, sleek with her own readiness, found their own rhythm. The friction against her core was relentless. Each stroke designed to own and claim her.
His mouth moved lower to her rib cage. He sucked deeply, his tongue leaving the flesh sensitive until she sobbed and cried. His hand between her thighs never lost its pace. He circled her, put pressure on that little bundle that seemed to hide every secret.
“Mine, all mine. Every sigh. Every tremor. Mine.”
Prim felt overloaded, overwhelmed, this cataclysm of thoughts and sensation were rendering her logic useless.
White-hot need came over her, and she ground herself against that sinful hand.
All she could do was choke out broken sounds from her throat.
Her whole world became his mouth, his hands, his teeth, his lips.
“Your pleasure is your need. Give it to me, Prim.”
“Oh,” she sighed. “Oh, please. I...”
Her sighs became his challenge. The fingers around her breast became persistent, his thumb teasing her again and again. His tongue mapped her skin, his teeth dug deeper. And those fingers! He focused on that peak between her legs, going over it round and round as if winding her. Till she snapped.
A rising tide came over her, the waves drowning her in a silent tremor she felt to her very core. Her back arched violently, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as the world dissolved into pure, blinding release.
“Leo!”
He held her through the last tremor, his breath hot and ragged against her neck, his fingers slowing down but not stopping.
He dragged out every little drop of her pleasure till she couldn't take it anymore.
She tried to move back away from his touch, but he didn't allow it.
One long stroke from her wet core to her peaked pebble and she cried out again.
“I will take it all, Prim. For me, all of it.”
As Prim got down from the heights of her ecstasy, she realized with dread that this man would claim even more than that.