CHAPTER 22 – Leona #3
I don’t speak, because there’s nothing to say.
Instead, I reach for him, pulling him closer, needing the contact.
My hands slide across his chest, feeling the roughness of his skin against my fingertips.
He’s so much bigger than me, and in this moment, I want nothing more than to be swallowed up by him. To let him consume me entirely.
He smiles darkly, as though he can read my mind, and steps back, positioning me as he wants. He tilts my chin up with one hand, forcing my eyes to meet his in the mirror above the bed.
“Look at yourself,” he commands. “Look at how beautiful you are. How perfect.”
His words stir something inside me, a mix of pride and submission.
I watch my reflection in the mirror, the woman lying before him, exposed, vulnerable, yet powerful in her own right.
His hand slides lower, caressing the curve of my waist, his thumb brushing just below my rib cage before moving lower, slipping beneath the fabric of my gown to find the soft skin of my thigh.
The sensation sends a jolt of heat through me, and I gasp, my hips instinctively bucking upward.
“You want this, don’t you?” he asks, his voice a low growl, as though he’s already claimed every part of me, body and soul.
“Yes,” I whisper, the word barely audible, but the truth behind it is clear. I need him. Desperately.
His hand moves higher, teasing the skin between my thighs, fingertips brushing against the fabric of my underwear, before he rips it away.
The sudden exposure makes me gasp, but it also thrills me.
He’s in complete control—this is his world, and I’m simply a part of it, molded and shaped by his touch.
“Look at yourself,” he says again, his voice heavy with intent. “This is you, Leona. My queen. The woman who controls everything when I’m not around.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he slides one finger into me, watching my face as I adjust to the fullness.
“Tell me how good it feels,” he commands, his finger moving in and out of me with steady, measured strokes.
“It feels—” I gasp, unable to keep the words from spilling out. “It feels like you own me.”
“That’s right,” he mutters, his finger pushing deeper, his thumb brushing against my clit. “You’re mine. And everyone here is going to see it.”
I can feel the wetness between my legs, the slick heat of my arousal coating his fingers as he continues to fuck me with slow precision.
His gaze never leaves mine in the mirror, and I feel myself falling under the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his control, and the way he knows exactly what I need.
His fingers work faster now, moving in and out of me with more urgency. I want to hold on to the edge, but it’s impossible. The pleasure builds too quickly, too intensely, and I’m helpless beneath him. My body shudders as he continues to thrust into me, the pressure mounting with every movement.
“Come for me, Leona,” he orders, his voice rough with the promise of what’s to come.
The words break me. My body snaps, releasing in a violent wave of pleasure that sends a scream from my lips. My back arches off the bed, my hips pressing against his hand as I come apart beneath him, my body trembling with the intensity of it.
He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, pushing me higher, until I feel like I’m going to shatter again. And just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he pulls back, lifting me from the bed and positioning me over him.
His hands grasp my waist, guiding me down onto his cock with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. He’s deep inside me, and the feeling of him stretching me, filling me, makes me dizzy with need.
I move, riding him slowly at first, savoring the feeling of control, of power. But I can feel his hands tightening on my hips, his grip growing more insistent. He wants me to move faster, harder.
“Faster,” he growls, his voice thick with lust. “Ride me like you mean it.”
I don’t hesitate. I increase the pace, moving faster, harder, feeling the way his body reacts to every thrust. His hands grip my hips, pulling me down onto him with each stroke, and I lose myself in the pleasure, the rhythm, the domination.
The mirror above us catches every movement, every moment of connection, and I can see myself—see the way my body moves beneath his control, the way I fall apart for him, piece by piece.
“Come for me again,” he orders, his voice hoarse, his grip tightening as he pulls me down onto him, forcing me to take every inch.
I obey. I come again, my body trembling with release as I ride him through it, my vision blurring with the intensity of the orgasm. He follows me, his hands gripping my hips as he buries himself deep inside me, his body tense as he spills into me with a growl of satisfaction.
We stay like that for a moment, breathing heavily, the sound of our breath mingling in the air between us. He pulls me close, his lips brushing against my neck, the heat of his body still radiating through mine.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice rough and possessive. “In every way that matters.”
I can’t argue. Not when every part of me knows that it’s true.