39. Leona #2
“Of course we are.” He tweaked my nose. “I fought five of the most dangerous men in the world for the privilege of being with you. I’m bruised and beaten all over.
Here, look.” He pulled up the edge of his shirt to show me a peppering of purple bruises.
“See? Proof.” Whatever he saw in my eyes made him drop his shirt.
His voice turned serious. “But you can always change your mind. I need you to know that, Leona. If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave.
You don’t owe me any kind of explanation or reason. ”
My lips pressed together. The weight of his words pressed against my throat.
“After all that has happened, it’s the least I can do,” he said quietly. “Leona. Do you want me to go?”
I shook my head, fingers pulling his shirt. As if I’d let him go now. As if he could escape this. “I don’t want that, Max.”
“Okay. Good,” he said, ducking his head to kiss me with a gentleness that filled me again with warmth. He didn’t push further than that. “What did you want to say?”
I wasn’t going to say I loved him. Not yet.
I wasn’t ready, and after so much time spent thinking that I loved him, I knew now that the love I felt for him when I was young wasn’t the same I felt for my men.
The breadth of what I felt now for my men, the scale of it, was honestly scary.
It was a miracle, and I was lucky enough to have it five times over.
I wanted to feel that for Max.
A part of me thought I did, but I was too scared to admit it yet. I hadn’t had enough time. What if something went wrong? What if this didn’t work out? I hadn’t had even the opportunity to process.
But there was something I could say.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” I said through a choked throat. I wound my hands around his neck and swept my fingers through his hair. “For saying sorry. For telling me the truth. For choosing this. Us.”
His finger hooked under my chin. “I’m the one who says thank you.”
“You can’t claim a monopoly on words,” I whispered as our lips brushed.
“I claim ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you,’” he insisted. His tongue teased at the seam of my mouth. “You can have the rest.”
“Fine.” I pulled his face to mine. My kiss was hungry and needy. A whimper built in the back of my throat when he lowered his weight on top of me, and my legs naturally made room for the press of his hips. I might still need to process my feelings, but I knew I wanted this.
“Is this okay?” he asked while his hands ducked under my shirt. I pulled off his in response.
In a dance, we stripped each other, only breaking contact for a breath at a time. The more my skin was revealed, the gentler his touch became. Over my sternum. Swirling around my nipples. Drawing them to peaks. I groaned as my hips ground against him.
“I don’t deserve this. I know it.” His breath tickled the crook of my neck while his fingers dragged over my stomach and dipped between my legs. My hips widened, and my head tilted back when his finger teased over my clit.
“Max,” I groaned. His thumb rubbed circles and then dipped toward my entrance, and I clutched at his biceps, practically begging him to give me more. Every one of his kisses was devotion. Every touch of his fingers was a prayer.
He worked me higher and higher with steady, firm movements. My eyes closed, driven so close to the edge of pleasure that my nails dug into his skin.
Until it was all gone and I was empty.
My eyes flew open to find him grinning down at me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.
“This.” He lined up his hard cock, that piercing brushing through my folds and edging me on its own, before he pushed inside inch by inch.
Slow, torturous. His palm wrapped around my thigh and he pulled my hip up at an angle so he could sink even deeper.
I let out a moan at the same time he bottomed out.
He leaned over and met my demand for kisses with luscious control. His patience was almost unbearable.
“Move,” I whimpered, squeezing my legs around him and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.
“I’ll take my fucking time, thank you very much.” He gripped my cheeks, holding me in place while he kissed me, hard and firm, but not fast at all. “I want you begging for relief by the time I’m done.”
The slow roll of his hips drove me fucking crazy.
In and out. Over and over. His body pinned mine to the bed, and as I desperately clutched at him, his hands pinned my wrists above me.
My fingers curled around the headboard when he nipped at my bottom lip, leaving a trail of heat from the corner of my mouth down my neck.
Every time he thrust forward, he sank completely inside me before he pulled out and slowly pushed inside again.
His piercing dragged everywhere. My legs crossed behind him, as if I could somehow keep us fused together through my desire alone.
Want, want, want. My brain couldn’t even form coherent thoughts. It was all just consumed by need.
“Leona Theresa.” The sound was like worship. “I thought I would die before I ever felt this.”
“I thought I’d kill you,” I said before a moan tore through my throat. I was getting so fucking close.
“You can kill me whenever you’d like.”
“After you make me come.” My fingers clenched the headboard. “Please, Max, I’m right there.”
“How about you wring a couple more orgasms out of me before you kill me?” he offered, pushing his hips forward again. I didn’t think his lips left my skin for more than the breaths it took to speak.
“Just a few more,” I gasped. My eyes squeezed shut. “Then I’ll put you out of your misery.”
“Sounds like a plan.” His teeth closed over my nipple at the same time he bottomed out.
His thumb dragged a hard circle on my clit, and it pushed me over the edge.
I couldn’t keep my hands on the headboard anymore.
I clutched at his head, gasping as the waves rippled through my entire body.
His arms wrapped around me desperately, while he buried himself as deep as he could go.
He whispered my name over and over as he came.
“Leona Theresa. Leona Theresa.”
I loved the sound of it coming from his mouth.
Moments passed, filled with the sounds of our heavy breaths and the slow touches of his reverent worship. His forehead pressed against mine.
“See? It’s not too terrible to be alone with me.”
My kiss was gentle. “Don’t press your luck.”