Chapter 11
CELESTE
Leo's not the kind of man to take anything without permission. So I'm not begging him to kiss me, not really. This is simply the opening I recognize he needs. My consent. My approval.
And I'm happy to give it.
And when his mouth lands on mine, gentle at first, it's everything I hoped for and exactly what I'm afraid I'll never have again.
Leo gives a growl when I kiss him back, and the restraint holding him in check shreds.
The kiss shifts, passion taking us both over, and I love every moment.
The way he nips at my lips, and his tongue explores me.
The way his fingers flex against my back, holding me as close as possible while I explore him in return.
The way I shiver involuntarily when his fingers trail up under the sweatshirt, skating over the edge of my spine, and making my knees almost buckle at the sensation.
"You can tell me to stop, anytime, sweetheart. Anytime."
His words are guttural, almost painful, but it aligns with everything I've seen about him.
"Understood. And please, please, please, don't stop."
I'm rewarded with a smile and then he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me toward the bedroom. I'm intensely grateful it's a small cabin, because it's only seconds before he lays me down on the bed, eying me with awe and pride like I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.
He helps me pull the sweatshirt over my head, and chuckles when I wiggle my way free of the borrowed sweatpants. He takes them from me, tossing them into a pile on the floor, before returning his focus to me.
There's an intensity in his gaze when he looks me up and down, and I don't want to squirm or hide myself.
I let him look his fill, then reach for him.
He comes to me and allows me to undress him as well, relishing the feel of his muscled skin as he's now the one shivering beneath my touch.
The sharply cut surface of his chest tapers to the lines of his abs and lower, to the arrow of his hips pointing down.
Down to where his desire for me is most obvious.
He's thick and rigid, and in the dim light I catch the shine of fluid at the tip. Before we're done, I want to taste him, and I can tell by the way he's eying me that he has a similar plan. But first, I want him inside me. Need him to fill me up.
He seals his mouth to mine, and we roll back onto the bed, and I'm not cold at all.
I'm burning up from the inside as he plunders my mouth with his tongue while his hands work magic on my body.
Stroking over my nipples until they're hard and aching, trailing his fingers down over my rounded belly and tickling my hips.
Until he's there, at my center, and teasing that most sensitive part of me to life.
He learns with each caress what makes me arch up and gasp, or beg for more, and I'm so wet when he finally slides a finger inside me.
He glides in and out, stretching me and spreading my own fluid around until there's no resistance, and he adds another finger to the mix.
I can feel it when he curls them just right, up against the wall of my core, and his thumb ghosts over my clitoris, and I bow up, my cries of pleasure unexpected as the wave hits me hard.
There's unmistakable satisfaction I hear in his voice when he says, "So beautiful."
Then he positions his tip at my opening, holds himself over me on his forearms and kisses me as his cock presses inside. Inch by slow, delicious, torturous inch. Until he's finally fully seated and we're both panting with need.
And he begins to move.