33. CHAPTER 30
Orion
The house had gone to sleep by the time we returned. The lights dimmed, staff dismissed. I’d texted Mrs Lewis not to wait up.
Léonie slipped her heels off in the foyer, dangling them from two fingers as we walked down the hall. Her hair had loosened, strands escaping the ponytail to frame her face. The sight did nothing to calm the steady hum in my blood.
She was laughing at some throwaway remark I’d made about the dessert wine when I caught her hand and laced our fingers together, altering our path without warning.
“Wrong way,” she pointed out. “That’s not my room.”
“I know.”
She looked down at our joined hands, then up at me. “And where are we going?”
“My room.”
She paused for a moment as if the air in the hallway had suddenly vanished, her gaze searching mine for the command that usually lived there, finding only a raw, demand instead.
Her throat bobbed. “Oh.”
It wasn’t fear in her eyes, but an awareness. The same awareness that had been building for months, winding tighter every time we kissed and then stepped away before the inevitable.
I squeezed her hand once. She squeezed back in a silent yes that hit me so hard, heat shot through me.
“The careful part is over,” I said, my voice thick with the month of hunger I’d been hiding. “You wanted to see how deep the water goes. Let’s find out if you can handle the current.”
The door clicked shut the moment we entered the room, and I backed her against it, my mouth crashing into hers.
The kiss was hungry from the start—my lips making way for me, our tongues tangling as her hands fisted my shirt.
She tasted like wine and want, moaning softly when I nipped her bottom lip.
My palms slid up her waist, my thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts through the dress, and she arched into me, fueling the fire.
Then she pulled out from the kissing, making me groan in agony from the loss of her mouth.
She stopped in the middle of the room, turning her head, taking in the space she’d only ever entered for brief, practical reasons. It was the same as it had been for years. Minimalist, dark furniture, a bed I’d never shared with anyone. Until tonight.
“Should I…?” she whispered, gesturing vaguely toward the bed.
“You should come here,” I said, keeping my frustration out of my voice.
I stepped toward her, freeing my hand from hers only to slide both palms along her waist, drawing her closer until we were almost chest to chest. The faint scent of her perfume rose up between us.
“You look—” I searched for a word, found several, dismissed them all. “You look… like trouble I should avoid.”
“Just because I wore what you asked?”
“Because you wore it knowing what I’d want to do when I saw you in it.”
Her breathing stuttered at my words.
I bent my head and took her mouth again. She responded instantly. No guarded half-measure, just as I like her.
Her hands found the front of my shirt, slipping past the lapels of my jacket to curl in the fabric, dragging me closer. The kiss turned hot quickly, deeper, slowly igniting in a way that made the rest of the world irrelevant.
She rose on her toes, aligning us better, and I felt the small sound she made vibrate through my tongue.
Somewhere between one breath and the next, her fingers left my shirt and started working my belt buckle with surprising confidence, the metal clinking as she tugged it free.
I broke the kiss, brows raised. “Eager?”
She met my eyes. “Shut up and let me pull you under.”
Shit. I couldn’t argue with that.
She wanted control and fuck if I wasn’t letting her take it.
I let her push me toward the bed until my knees hit the edge, and I sat, watching as she sank to her knees between my legs.
She pulled the zipper down and my cock sprang free, heavy and throbbing against my stomach; still pulsing from the blood she’d stirred up all evening.
It was the first time she’d seen me like this—fully exposed. Her breath hitched, and her eyes widening as she wrapped her hand around the base, her fingers barely meeting. I closed my eyes for a second from the pressure and swallowed a curse.
“Orion—” she whispered, her voice husky with a mix of awe and hunger crossing her face.
I looked down at her and fuck, the sight of her there—biting on her lower lip, her gaze locked on mine—nearly undid me. I hadn't expected this, not while we were just hitting a rhythm in this marriage. But she dove in as if she’d been waiting for this.
She started with stroking me slowly, her thumb circling the head to spread the slickness there and her grip tightening as she felt me twitch in her palm.
A moan escaped her lips. Her warm breath fanned over the sensitive skin of my cock, and my hips bucked involuntarily. A low curse slipped from my lips.
She was teasing me and I was about to lose my mind.
She glanced up, smirking through the surprise like she’d just discovered a secret she planned to use.
“Léa,” I said, more warning to myself than to her.
Her laugh was a wicked little thing. Before I could say another word, her mouth closed over the head, her tongue swirling hot and wet as she sucked with a rhythm that dragged a groan from deep in my chest.
She hummed around me, and the vibration shot down my spine straight to my balls.
Then she took me deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she bobbed, one of her hands wrapped around the base to pump what she couldn’t take. It was raw and intense—her lips stretched around my thickness, wet sounds filling the room as she hollowed her cheeks harder.
I wrapped a hand around her ponytail, gripping tight to guide her pace, pulling her down further.
Control was my anchor, and she let me have it. Her eyes watered, but she never broke eye contact.
Such a fucking beautiful sight.
Watching my wife reach her peak had already claimed the top spot in my personal gallery of memories. But the sight of her here, on her knees, eyes fixed on mine, took second place so quickly it made my head spin.
“How does your mouth feel this good?” I rasped, my voice rough, the pressure building faster than I liked. Still I couldn't take my eyes off her.
“Fuck, you're mine… sucking my cock like you were made for it.”
She moaned in reply, the sound reverberating through me, and I pulled her hair harder, angling her head to take me to the back of her throat.
Her free hand slipped between her thighs. I caught the movement of her wrist, and the subtle roll of her hips as she rubbed herself through her panties, chasing her own release while she devoured me. It drove me wild, seeing her so desperate, pleasuring herself on her knees for me.
“That’s it, my perfect little wife,” I praised, possessive heat flooding my words. “Look at you, touching yourself while you take me in your mouth.” I placed my free hand under her chin. “You’re all mine to ruin.”
She moaned louder, every filthy sound muffled. Her strokes on her clit quickened as she bobbed faster, her tongue dragging along the underside of my cock.
The tension wound tighter and tighter. Every thrust was shallow now, controlled by my fist in her hair.
“You want me to come down your throat?” I ground out.
She nodded eagerly, her eyes pleading, and her pupils blown wide in a way I’ve never seen before.
I don’t know what possessed me to even ask; all I’d wanted for months was to be buried deep inside her. But her mouth had hijacked whatever part of my brain handled reason, and those eyes… those eyes would always fuck with me.
“Good girl,” I growled. “Swallow every drop.”
The orgasm barreled through me and didn't stop. My cock pulsed hard in her mouth as I spilled down her throat. She took it, swallowing greedily. Not a single drop wasted. Her own body shuddered as she came on her fingers, her thighs clenching around her hand.
The last pulse of my release ebbed, leaving me momentarily boneless as we stared at eachother amidst catching our breaths.
Her lips were puffy, her chin slick, and fuck… the sight of her wrecked and satisfied, woke every primal instinct I had.
I reached down, and cupped her face. My thumbs swept away the wetness on her cheeks.
“Come here,” I rasped, my voice rough from the sounds she'd wrung out of me.
She rose slowly, her knees wobbling a bit as she climbed onto my lap, straddling my thighs.
I pulled her in and crushed my mouth to hers without hesitating. The taste of myself hit first—salty, filthy, threaded with her sweetness—and my cock twitched back to life against her soaked panties.
I deepened the kiss, my tongue pushing into her mouth to chase every trace of it. I slipped a hand up her spine to fist in her ponytail, holding her there as I devoured her. She moaned into me, grinding down over my length, while her fingers dug into my shoulders.
“You're fucking incredible, Léa,” I breathed, nipping at her bottom lip before sucking it between my mouth.
“No one's ever taken me like that…swallowed every drop like it was yours to claim.”
It was. I was. Every damn inch of me.
Her eyes gleamed with that familiar mix of shyness and fire as she pressed her forehead to mine, her breath fanning my mouth.
“I wanted to test the theory of you being a bad swimmer,” she whispered, her voice breathy, and it nearly undid me all over again.
A laugh rumbled deep in my chest, more of a grunt than a sound.
And fuck, I am. I’m a drowning man, Léa, and you’re the only thing keeping me under.
I tilted her chin up, forcing her to see the raw, unedited truth in my eyes—the part of me that had finally turned vulnerable, just for her…just for tonight.
“Test it all you want,” I rasped, my thumb grazing her swollen bottom lip. “Dive as deep as you need to. I’m not coming up for air until you do. If only to prove how bad of a swimmer I am.”
She smiled slow and lethal, and I pulled her into me.
My hands roamed lower, gripping her hips to rock her across my length, feeling the heat of her pussy through the thin fabric of her panties. I wasn't done savoring her. Not even close.