22. Leo
22
LEO
“ F uck. You look so beautiful. I should just parade you around the property. Really get my money’s worth.”
Stella’s gasp enters my mouth as her cunt clamps down, suffocating my dick. We’ve finally made it to the bed, though it took two more rounds to get to this point. She’s on her stomach, grasping the disheveled sheets, with her ass angled in the air.
A distinct bite mark reddens one cheek, and I trace my thumb over it. Payback for the ring around my neck that she created during our first session—not that I’m complaining either way.
Under normal circumstances, I’d never have let anyone do that to me. With other lovers, I’ve always had to be particular and careful when it came to any sort of pain inflicted, because it could easily go south with my position in the De Tore family. I’ve never thought someone might get close to me for any reason other than to ignite my downfall.
Stella, on the other hand, has always been different. From our first kiss, or maybe even when her father offered her virginity, I could see that she wasn’t trying to outmaneuver me. She didn’t want to overthrow me and steal what I’d sacrificed a childhood to create.
She only wanted out.
I’ve been letting her hurt me ever since.
“You didn’t pay for me,” she mutters, turning her face away from mine. “Technically, this is a free fuck.”
“Oh, it’ll cost. That I’m sure of.”
Clasping my hands on her hips, I use them for leverage, pulling her up as I drive into her. She buries her face into the bedding, each moan and grunt expelling from her lungs as if forced directly from them.
I smooth my palm down her spine, counting each groove, then wrap her soft hair around my fist and tug. If I could wrench my cock from her for a moment, I’d put the strands around my shaft, but right now I’m content to just touch them. “That’s it, baby. Give me all your noises. Let me know how good it feels to finally have me in you.”
“God, Leo?—”
“Which is it?” I ask, gritting my teeth in a pathetic attempt to hold off a little longer. Pressure rushes up my back, spiraling out of control as it heads for my dick. “God or Leo? I’ll bet Mass never made you scream like this.”
She’s soaked in a heavy sheen of sweat, her pretty cunt coated in several layers of my spend—it’s too much for me to handle.
Stella squeals, and her body starts to arch away from the mattress as her orgasm approaches. I shift my weight, pinning her hips as I thrust in once, twice, and a third rough time. My own release chases the milking of her inner muscles; my groan is long and low, and I rock back, pulling out.
Keeping the crown of my dick against her, I watch as thick ropes of cum leak from her succulent hole, spurting still from my tip. Then I shove right back in, collapsing on top of her when the aftershocks have subsided.
We stay like that for a while. My heart thrashes inside my chest, against her shoulder blade, and I wait to see if she’ll try to buck me off and get away. She’s deflated, flattened out like a pancake on the bed, and still doesn’t move even when I roll off.
Gathering what strength I have left, I get up on shaky legs and trudge into the small connecting bathroom. It consists of just a porcelain sink, a broken mirror, a toilet, and a tiny shower stall, but I don’t need all that right now.
I turn on the faucet and fetch a washcloth from a little basket beside the sink, then let it warm in the spray. When I reenter the bedroom, Stella still hasn’t moved an inch. If not for the steady rise and fall of her back, I’d think I killed her.
She gasps when I press the washcloth to her swollen cunt, swatting half-heartedly as I clean her up.
“Thank you,” she says, rolling her head to the side. “I didn’t realize how sticky I’d be after.”
“Yes, I did make quite a mess of you.” And would like to continue doing that for the rest of our lives. I don’t say that part out loud, though, unwilling to break the quiet calm in the air around us.
Outside, the moon is high in the sky, illuminating parts of the room that the candles don’t reach. The property seems to be mostly empty now, as patrons have likely retreated to their rooms for the night.
She gets up to use the bathroom before quickly returning to the exact same position on the bed.
I toss the cloth to the floor and run my fingers over the curve of her ass, the dimples above it, and the ridges of her spine. There’s something magical about having her in this bed, surrounded by candlelight and flower petals, her skin red and swollen all over from my hands, mouth, and cock.
The way her hair spills in dark waves, like the endless ocean—and just as dangerously enticing.
I’m committing everything to memory this time. Just in case.
She peeks up at me. “Although this was my first time, I just want you to know that Rampion Core requires physicals every six months because of the hazardous work conditions. So…”
When she trails off, I nod my concurrence. “I would not have taken you bare if there were any cause for concern on my end either. Because of my father’s history of poor health, I get exams routinely. If you like, I can have the most recent one emailed over.”
She scans my face, silently contemplating. “Earlier, you said you’d been waiting seven years for this. Did you really mean that?”
My brows lift. “I scarcely even touched myself, stellina. There certainly wasn’t anyone else warming my bed.”
No one else would have ever measured up, just with the one taste I had of her. They’d never be able to reach the depths of my soul like she had in such a short time, even if I begged them to try.
She’s the only one I’d beg for anything.
“Okay,” she concedes, bending her arm and propping her head on her wrist. “I’m on the pill, by the way.”
My heart drops to my stomach. “Oh?”
How did that escape mine and Frankie’s detection?
Somehow during the countless hours we spent watching her on security feeds and making note of everything she did, every award won, every article written and doctor’s visit—we missed that.
“Yeah. I’ve never skipped one either, so you don’t need to like…worry or anything.”
As my hand continues its exploration of her lithe form, it slides beneath her hair, the silken strands soft against my scarred skin.
A distant part of me wonders what might have changed if we’d done this seven years ago. If I hadn’t let my personal issues take precedence and allowed her to waltz out of my life. If I’d been more like the man I killed for speaking ill about her.
I’m certain the birth control is a new addition, so would we have children by now? Would our arguments be over how I’d ruined her body, her life, and her future instead of?—
My hand freezes, the tips of my fingers twisting in the ends of her hair. That is what the arguments have been about, isn’t it? I suppose no amount of time can make up for the actual loss of autonomy that comes from marrying someone like me.
I thought I was different. I went out of my way to try to be, for her, and wound up in the same fucking boat anyway.
Exhaling, I move up the bed. I’m not sure if it’s the postorgasmic haze she’s in, or something else, but she seems to gravitate in the same direction as I rest my back against the iron headboard. She doesn’t touch me, her head on the pillow being as close as she’s voluntarily gotten to me since our reconnection.
I don’t want to read into it, but my stupid chest swells a little anyway. Like I’m some lovesick, touch-starved puppy whose owner let it sleep in the bed with her.
“Why would I worry about any of that?” I eventually ask, stroking her temple.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Her brown eyes swivel to mine, narrowing slightly. “I know we’re…married, but still. Do you really want to be saddled with the kid of a woman you didn’t actually choose?”
“A strong, beautiful Stanford graduate? I’m sure I could do much worse.”
She stays silent, and after a moment, she rolls onto her back. I keep my hand on her hair, toying with it aimlessly, unable to stop.
For a while, she stares up at the ceiling, which is also made of glass, like three-fourths of the tower walls. The stars are out, their visibility impeded slightly by thick clouds. I wonder which ones she’s looking at and if she knows the names of the constellations.
I wonder if the night sky is as stunning to her as she is to me.
When she grabs my wrist, I’m not expecting it at all. She pulls me over, inspecting my palm, and a wave of stubbornness crashes through me. I try to retract out of habit, but she ignores me, her grip strong as her eyes soak up my scars in the dim lighting.
“Who did this to you?”
I’m not sure what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. “Don’t worry yourself, stellina . They’re long gone at this point.”
She glances at me over my fingertips. “The gloves? This is why you wear them, right?”
I nod, and she smooths her thumb over the mess of skin, gliding over a particularly rough pocket.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.” I flex, curling my fingers beneath hers until they freeze midway. “This hand is worse than the other as far as mobility is concerned. Sometimes certain motions can be difficult, but the scars themselves are not painful. Not anymore.”
My pulse skyrockets the longer she stares, and I tug at my limb, trying to close this part of me off to her. Paired with everything else, even the shit she has no clue about, it feels too vulnerable. Like I’m playing all my cards before knowing if I have a chance of winning.
I’m not insecure about the scars, but I don’t display them either. That would be a death sentence; the second someone in this world knows you can be harmed, you’re in trouble.
“It was a fluke, you know.” She releases me and drags the white comforter up to her chin. “Me getting into Stanford. I mean, that was always my goal, but I didn’t get there on merit.”
“What do you mean?”
“My sister—er, well, I guess her husband, since we didn’t really have any money after she got married…” Stella is seemingly lost in thought, and I wonder how much she really knows about her late parents’ financial situation.
They had money, but since the eldest Ricci daughter ratted her parents out, assets were seized, and business went completely underground. Totally off-grid from where any Feds might notice. That was why Rafael brought her to Saint Paul’s that night, aware that even if he had cash to repay me with, doing so would put a target on his and his wife’s backs, as they owed more than just me.
Of course, accepting his farcical deal put a target on mine instead. But I knew the risk when I accepted. I just didn’t give a shit back then.
Even though I’m older now, I’d do it all over again if it meant getting her .
“Anyway, Elena’s husband is this hotshot doctor who used to work for Papà. Before I was sold to you, I went and lived with them for a few months, and I told him at some point about what I wanted to do with my future. How I wanted out of Boston and Papà’s life, so I could get an education. Try to make the world a little better.”
Scoffing to herself, she continues, “When I got my acceptance letter to Stanford, I thought it was a fake. I bombed the SATs because Mamma kept making me stay up late the night before, so I hadn’t expected anything from the schools I applied to. Really, I gave up on the idea of escaping altogether, but after calling the admissions office at Stanford, I learned the letter was real. Deep down, I think I always knew they’d bought it somehow, but at that point, I didn’t really care how I got out. Just that I was going to.”
My stomach tenses, my nerves tangling in knots.
“When I left you, I didn’t…I didn’t know how long I had before you came to drag me back home, so I didn’t question anything once I got to school. I threw myself into coursework and refused to come up for air.” A brief pause ensues, and she fists the sheets beneath her chin. “But as it turns out, there’s a different kind of pressure that comes from not earning something you really, really wanted. The desire to eventually accomplish something , even if it kills you, because someone else is invested in it.”
“So? What did you accomplish, stellina ?” I brush some hair back from her face.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I almost flunked out. My sisters called to tell me Papà had passed, and even though I didn’t really feel bad about it, I wasn’t allowed to attend his funeral. They wouldn’t tell me where it was and wouldn’t let me book a flight—anytime I tried, they’d call the airline to cancel. And even though I knew they were just trying to look out for me, it took a toll on me mentally. My grades dipped; my attendance was poor. Anyone else would’ve been put on academic probation.”
My hand pauses at the crown of her skull. “But you weren’t.”
“Nope. I kept waiting for the hammer to be thrown down on my time at Stanford, but no one ever said anything. Finally, I went to my adviser, and all they said was that the academic parameters didn’t apply.” She scoffs. “I could fill in the blanks as to why. Money talks, no matter where you are in a capitalist society. Money will always mean more than anything else.”
We fall silent, and I withdraw my hand, dropping it in my lap. Apprehension unspools slowly in my gut because of the despair in her voice. The hopelessness.
I fucked up big time. No way can I tell her I was the one paying the school off and threatening them when her performance suffered. Her sister may have started, but once Stella was enrolled, it became my mission to keep her there.
“Anyway, I took the job at Rampion Core right out of school because I thought it might give me that sense of accomplishment I was lacking. The freedom from my name and background—or at least my sister’s influence. I don’t know. It’s a shitty job, but if I can move up in the ranks, I think I could really make a difference in the scientific realm. Maybe I won’t cure cancer, but…maybe I’ll do something on my own, you know?” She sighs, deflating. “That’s why I wanted the orchid. My boss said he’d promote me if I could get it, and now…”
She looks at me from the corner of her eyes. I open my mouth to say something—to try to explain again that I didn’t steal anything from her—but she cuts me off.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Are orgasms some kind of word-vomit inducer?”
Forcing memories from my mind, I paste on a grin and slide my palm over her hip. “Should we fuck again and find out?”
She smirks, rolling so she faces away from me. “Sleep first. I think if we do it again right now, I might break in half.”
Silence blankets the room, and for several moments, I just watch the slow rise and fall of her body, assuming she’s fast asleep. When she speaks again, my heart feels like it ceases beating inside my chest.
“I just wanted you to know why I left back then. It wasn’t you . Not really.”
Unsure of what to say to that, I simply blink my desire away and get up from the bed to discard the washcloth. In the bathroom, I spray some cold water on my face to try and get a fucking hold of myself.
All I have to do is tell her my plan—tell her what I’ve done. My own confession for her hand.
Maybe it will be enough to come clean about everything.
To tell her that what was one moment in time for her was seven years for me. It didn’t end when she escaped or when I found her not even a day later and chose not to pursue her. Whatever we started continued on all along as I spent each day watching her from afar, admiring the steps she was taking to become her own woman.
A buzzing noise draws my attention back to the bedroom. I scan the darkness for my pants, kicked off near the window, and yank my phone from the pocket. There’s a text from Frankie telling me there’s been some issue with the orchid, but they’re dealing with it, and another from an unknown number.
Unknown
Bring the whore to us, or there will be consequences.
I ignore both messages, tossing the phone back onto my clothes and walking over to the bed.
When I slide in beside her, listening to her tiny snores fill the quiet, I can’t find it in me to wake her. Instead, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close, silently cursing myself for being a fucking bastard.
“ Penso di essere innamorata di te .”
She doesn’t stir, so I whisper it again into the stillness of the bedroom, where each word drifts into the air and disappears, leaving Stella none the wiser.
The Demon of Boston no more.
Demons don’t fall in love. They don’t have hearts.
Although maybe that makes me one after all, since the woman tucked into my side stole mine.
She turns in her sleep, nuzzling against me. My dick aches to be in her again, but when those beautiful brown eyes pop open, shining up at me in the moonlight, I’m frozen in place. Completely ensnared by her.
A total goner.
“Are you going to keep me in this tower forever?” Her voice is small, almost sweet, and thick from slumber.
“I’m the evil villain in this story, right? It wouldn’t make sense for me to let you go.” Her eyes widen, and I laugh, smoothing my thumb over her cheek. “I’m kidding, Stella. There is nothing I want less than to stifle your freedom and individuality. Those are some of the many things I’ve enjoyed watching you cultivate over the years.”
The admission slips out too fast for me to stop.
She blinks slowly, as if processing each word. I wait for more questions, or maybe even accusations, but they never come.
“I used to watch you in church, you know.”
Yes , I don’t say. I know. We’ve had this conversation, sort of, but I suppose she doesn’t remember.
“You were so handsome and terrifying. My mother hated when I stared, and my sisters would tell me you ate people.”
I smother a snicker. “Cannibalism does not appeal to me, I’m afraid.”
“But you let people think that anyway, right? It made you seem scarier, and you wanted their fear.”
“I needed their fear,” I correct softly, cupping her jaw. “Anything less would have meant my death.”
“Did you want mine?”
Leaning down, I angle her head and gently press a kiss to her swollen lips. “Never.”
In truth, I wanted something far different from her, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Even if I can’t admit it now, out loud.
A part of me thinks she knows anyway. It’s in the way her pupils dilate, shimmering like glass in the gentle glow of the candlelight. No matter my reasons for coming here, or for staying, or for harassing her, I think she knows.
Or I hope she does.
Fuck, De Tore, who the hell even are you anymore?
I expect more questions. Instead, Stella leans her forehead against my biceps and drifts back off to sleep.