40. Leo
40
Leo
E very rep on this goddamn custom rig Auger set up in my home gym is a battle, not just against the resistance bands mimicking the pull of a deployed wingsuit, but the gnawing voice in my head.
Traitor.
Liar.
Fool.
My leg and shoulder scream with a familiar, grinding pain, a constant reminder of the Chamonix impact.
But I push through it.
Physical pain is a known entity, a distraction.
Better than the raw, unfamiliar ache Mia, and now Sabrina, have carved into some previously numb part of my chest.
When I came home an hour ago, the penthouse was empty. A quick text from Charlie, my head of security, confirmed Sabrina was out with Mia, meeting Tatiana Rossi .
Good for her. Probably needed to vent about the resident billionaire jackass she’s currently cohabitating with.
So, I came in here. To the gym. My sanctuary. My torture chamber.
My muscles burn. I focus on the strain, on the metallic tang of sweat in my mouth, on anything but the image of Sabrina’s face when she finds out I jumped.
And she will find out. There’s no doubt about that.
A video of my most recent jump leaked today. I don’t know if she’s seen it yet.
But if not, she will, eventually.
I hear the chime of the private elevator. It’s faint, but in this charged silence, it sounds like a goddamn alarm bell.
Sabrina.
She’s back. I hear her moving down the hall, the gentle murmur of her voice as she settles Mia in the nursery.
Then her footsteps approach the gym.
She appears in the doorway, still in her street clothes. A soft, dark sweater and jeans. That sweater clings seductively to her curves, and fuck me, my body is already reacting.
She looks tired, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that wasn’t there this morning. She doesn’t say anything, just watches me.
“Security tells me you were at the Rossi residence?” I ask, my voice rougher than I intend.
She still doesn’t answer. Her silence is a fucking indictment.
She just lets the tension simmer.
Finally I can’t take it.
“You saw the video,” I say, pushing myself up off the bench. “The quarry jump.”
Those expressive dark eyes that usually betray every thought are unreadable. “Yes, Leo. I saw it.”
She sounds defeated.
“And?” I challenge, taking a step towards her. “Got something to say?”
“You lied to me,” she says, her voice quiet. “You told me you were working all week. Instead, you’ve been jumping all week, haven’t you? Is that what ‘going to the office’ means now?”
“No,” I snap. “It was just that one day. When Luca called with the ‘emergency.’ It was a way to clear my head. I’m... I...” But I can’t find the words.
Does she think she owns me?
I can do what the fuck I want.
Spoken like a truly spoiled child. Nice, Leo.
“It was one jump,” I finish.
“One lie ,” she counters.
I don’t have anything to say to that.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice is laced with a pain that, for a second, almost cuts through my anger. “Why couldn’t you just be honest with me?”
“Because you wouldn’t understand!” I practically shout, the frustration boiling over. “Because you’d look at me with those fucking judgmental eyes, just like you’re doing now! Because you’d try to talk me out of it, and frankly, Sabrina, it’s none of your goddamn business what I do to blow off steam!”
“None of my business?” Her voice trembles, but there’s steel in it now. “Leo, what if you had died? And then what? What about Mia? What about me ?”
I laugh harshly, a sound that even I recognize as a shitty defense mechanism. “It was an easy run, Sabrina. Impossible to die.”
But deep down her words hit a nerve. There’s a razor-thin margin between flight and fucking oblivion. A wing could collapse. A parachute could fail. A thousand small things could go wrong, even on an ‘easy run.’
I know that better than anyone.
“If you say so, Leo,” she continues. “But what’s worse is the position you’ve put me in. Professionally. I’ve been telling everyone... investors, bloggers, the goddamn Wall Street Journal... that you’re focused on recovery, on the firm, on being a responsible father. I’ve been spinning this narrative, trying to make you look good, trying to protect Maxwell & Briggs. And now this? This video? It makes me look like a liar, Leo. Or worse, a fool. Now I have to start all over again, PR-wise. You’re not making my job easy. Not at all.”
“You knew when I hired you that it wasn’t going to be easy,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
That’s the old Leo talking.
The asshole.
A pained expression flickers across her face.
“I knew,” she admits. “But that’s not why I took the job. I only agreed to work for you, to move in here, because… because I wanted to be with you, Leo. Because I thought… I thought maybe we had a chance. That Mia had a chance.”
Those words.
Fuck.
They hit me harder than the cliff face in Chamonix.
She wanted to be with me.
Something possessive and raw ignites in my chest, burning away the anger and frustration. I’m starting to get hard.
Like, incredibly hard .
Sabrina’s chest heaves, her dark eyes flashing defiance, but beneath it...
Fuck.
I see the tremor in her bottom lip. The microexpression as her gaze drops to my crotch for the shortest of moments.
She wants me as much as I fucking want her right now. Despite our harsh words. Despite our arguing. Despite our sheer anger . Our bodies... they fucking yearn for each other.
Control.
Control.
I need to be in control.
So I don’t lose her.
She wants me.
I close the distance between us in two strides. Her gasp at my intrusion inside her space is sharp, sweet.
“You think you get to judge me?” I growl. “You, who lied for almost two years? ”
She tilts her chin up defiantly. “This isn’t about me.”
“Everything’s about you now.” My mouth crashes into hers, all teeth and possession. She fights the kiss for half a breath before moaning, her hands fisting my sweat-soaked shirt.
I bite her lower lip, tugging until she whimpers. “The bench. Now.”
“We shouldn’t...” Her voice wavers.
I smirk, dragging her to the squat rack. “You’ll say ‘we shouldn’t’ until you’re dripping. Let’s skip the foreplay.”
I yank my shorts down, my cock springing free, already fucking dripping pre-cum. Her gaze flickers to it, her throat bobbing eagerly.
Good .
“Sit on my face.” I lie back on the workout bench, then grip her hips.
“Leo—”
“ Now .”
Her knees shake as she straddles my face, hovering inches above my mouth. I slap her ass, the crack echoing. She jerks, but I catch her waist, pulling her down.
Heat and salt flood my tongue as I bury my face in her. She cries out, thighs clamping around my head.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” I growl against her pussy. “All that righteous anger has made you just… wet .”
“Leo—”
“Sit on me with all your weight,” I command.
“Leo—”
“Do it.”
And she does. My head is pinned to the bench.
Fucking hot.
I spear her with my tongue. Her back arches and a broken sound tears from her throat.
“You crave this.” I suck her clit, relentless. “Crave me .”
Her hands scramble for a grip on the squat rack above us. “I can’t— oh God —”
“I’ve been called many names before.” I reach under the bench, fingers closing around the vibrator I keep stashed there with a Velcro strap.
Don’t judge.
The sleek black wand hums to life. She freezes.
“Relax, my vixen. Let me show you what you’ve been missing.”
The second I press it to her pussy, she convulses. “ Wait —too much—”
But the vibrator’s hum drowns out her protests. Sabrina’s thighs quiver around my head, her pussy glistening under the gym’s harsh lights.
I press the toy harder against her clit, watching her breath hitch.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur, dragging my tongue up her slit. “But not from fear.”
“Leo— please —”
“Please what?” I flick the vibrator to its highest setting. Her back arches off the bench, a broken moan tearing loose. “You want me to stop? Or do you want to drown me?”
She grits her teeth, sweat slicking her throat. “I… it’s too—”
“Too much, my vixen?” I replace the vibrator with my thumb, circling her swollen clit. “Your body says otherwise.” I plunge two fingers into her sopping wet pussy. “Fuck, you’re dripping. Like you’ve been waiting for this moment for years.”
Her hips jerk, trying to escape the stimulation. But I wrap a hand around her ass, pulling her down. “Sit on my face. Good girl. Now let go, Sabrina. Now .”
Her orgasm hits like a dam breaking. A gush of warmth floods my palm, her juices streaming down my wrist, my face, her thighs.
She cries out, legs clamping around my head as she soaks me and the bench beneath us. I lap at her, groaning as her flavor explodes on my tongue. Sweet, earthy, addictive .
I cum then, too. Although there’s nothing directly stimulating my cock, I can’t help myself, and groan even louder as the strings of cum spread across my abs. When I’m done, my dick stays fully erect. Waiting expectantly for its turn.
“That’s one,” I growl, lifting my chin. I can feel her fluid all over my mouth, her scent clinging to my skin.
She pants, chest heaving. “More…”
“Oh don’t worry,” I smirk, sliding the soaked fingers of one hand over her trembling belly. “You just painted my face. There’s going to be many more.”
Her cheeks flush crimson. “I didn’t— God , that’s—”
“Natural.” I lick the beautiful liquid on her thigh. I haven’t gotten her to squirt in a while. Not since the time I choked her.
“Skene’s glands,” I explain against her thigh. “Two little sacs near the urethra. They’re why you taste like heaven when you cum.” I brush her inner thigh with my tongue, savoring her. “And this—” I insert my fingers.
They find her again, pressing deep into that spongy ridge inside her. She whimpers. “Your G-spot. It’s the trigger. When it’s teased, those glands weep for you… slowly building, slowly... until you can’t take it anymore and beg for release. And in your case, your bladder lets go at the same time. A flood, but not urine... it’s watered down, stripped of urea. No sting, no scent. Just... you .”
She covers her face with trembling hands. “Don’t—”
“Look at me.”
She does. Her eyes blaze with humiliation and need.
“This embarrasses you?” I lap up the slick trailing down her skin. “Why?” I nip her thigh gently, possessively. “Some women weep. Some burst. You?” My laugh is all heat. “You’re a fucking fountain. And I’ll always thirst for more. ”
“You’re... so fucking hot,” she whispers, her legs falling open wider. “Why do you have to be so fucking hot?”
I chuckle, sucking a bruise into her inner thigh. “And you, my dear, are just as fucking gorgeous.” My tongue flicks her clit, and she jerks. “Your body’s screaming for more. Let’s see how many times I can make you gush.”
The vibrator buzzes back to life. She yelps, but I hold her hips steady.
“Did I mention you’re fucking amazing,” I say, tracing her drenched folds with the toy. Then I press it to her clit and she arches off the bench.
Her second climax hits harder... a flood of warmth soaks me, her scream echoing off the mirrors. I drink her in, fingers pumping her g-spot as she writhes.
“Two,” I rasp, wiping my mouth. “And you’re just getting started.”
“More— please —” Her plea dissolves into a moan as I slide three fingers into her, then scissor them wide.
“You love this,” I snarl, thumb working her clit in rough circles. “Love being milked by me.”
“I do,” she murmurs.
I nip her folds. “You came to my penthouse. Let me fuck you raw. Let me own you.” My fingers plunge deeper, seeking that spongy spot. “Admit it.”
“ Leo —”
Her third release tears through her, a geyser of fluid splattering my chest. She sobs, thighs shaking, but I don’t relent.
“Good girl,” I praise, lapping at her oversensitive clit. “Four. ”
“Again… please …”
I lean back, admiring the wreck of her... her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her pussy swollen and leaking.
“All right, one more, my vixen,” I promise, and I lift her off my body, and position her down on the soaking wet bench. I grab a strategically placed condom packet from a nearby drawer and sheathe my cock.
Then I mount her. Missionary position.
Her legs hook around my waist as I slam home.
“ Fuck !” Her nails carve crescents into my shoulders. “You feel so fucking good!”
I lift her arms and pin her wrists, pounding into her with brutal strokes. “You want to fix me? This is how. This .”
I grit my teeth, pounding harder, faster. A jackhammer.
I lean forward, take her lips in mine. I mash my mouth against hers. Tasting, savoring, exploring.
She moans.
I grunt.
I jackhammer.
“Tight little virgin,” I snarl, though we both know better. Her pussy grips me like a vise, fluttering from the previous aftershocks. “Still clenching like it’s our first time.”
“ Yes yes yes —” she screams in time to my pounding.
I slam into her, the bench creaking. “Say it again.”
“ Yes yes yes .” She arches, meeting my thrusts.
I grin, feral. “You love it.” My hand cracks the side of her ass, leaving a red handprint. She yelps, her pussy spasming. “You want to cum, Sabrina?”
“ Yes yes yes . ”
I pull out, ignoring her whimper. “Beg.”
“ Leo —”
“Beg. Or I walk.”
“Please… let me cum again.”
“Louder.”
“ Please! Make me cum again! ”
I drive back in, angling deep. “Good girl.”
I pound like my life depends on it. Or hers.
Her pussy abruptly clamps down, squeezing me as her final orgasm rips through her.
Fluid gushes between us, soaking the condom, the bench, me .
“ Sabrina! ” I roar her name, spilling into the latex, cumming for the second time.
I collapse on her, careful not to crush her. My breath is ragged as I lick the sweat from her collarbone and savor her shudder.
“Five,” I whisper. “And every drop’s mine.”
Her laugh is hoarse. “Psychopath.”
I nip her jaw. “ Your psychopath.”
She seems to grow wistful when I speak the word your .
“Am I really?” she asks. “For how long?”
I smile wanly. “As long as you want me.”
She doesn’t answer. Her walls are going up again.
The silence in the gym is heavy, broken only by our harsh, ragged breathing. The smell of sweat and rubber flooring mingles with the lingering scent of her arousal.
My body is physically satisfied, every muscle vibrating with a post-fuck languor.
But emotionally… emotionally, I feel... distant. Empty, even.
The encounter… it wasn’t about connection. Not really. It was about control. About reasserting a dominance I felt slipping away. Because I didn’t want to lose her.
I saw her want. Saw her need in the moment.
And I took advantage of it.
I channeled all that anger, all that fear and fucking confusion into something physical. Something I could understand, something I could master .
With the sex, I broke down the walls between us, but only temporarily, and now she’s raising them right up again.
Damn it.
I pull away. Start dressing.
As I look at Sabrina, her face flushed, her body trembling slightly as she pulls her clothes back into place, I see the cost of that control.
The emptiness I feel is a reflection of the emotional chasm I’ve perhaps just widened between us.
The physical thrill, the momentary possession… it’s already fading, leaving behind a bitter residue.
This isn’t a victory.
This is… a defeat.
For the both of us.
I’m beginning to question everything.
What the fuck am I doing?
This physical intensity, this raw, almost angry fucking… it’s not enough. It can’t be. Not anymore. It’s a temporary fix, a distraction.
It doesn’t fill the void. It just makes it deeper.
What we have isn’t sustainable. Not while I’m like this.
The silence stretches. I need to say something.
Apologize? Explain?
But the words catch in my throat.
Because what the fuck do I even say ?
Sorry I’m a messed-up asshole who uses amazing sex to avoid dealing with his emotions?
Sorry I’m terrified of being a father, of being a partner, of being… vulnerable?
Yeah, that’ll go over well.
She finally breaks the silence.
“I should go check on Mia,” she says softly, not looking at me.
Yep. Walls back at full height.
She turns and walks out of the gym, leaving me alone with the weights, the rig, and the hollow echo of what just happened.