Chapter 3 Lily #2
"I know." His other hand comes up, cradling my face between his palms. "And I've been trying so hard not to touch you. Not to take what I want. Because you're young, and you've been through hell, and you deserve better than a fifty-year-old monster who can't stop thinking about you."
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. "You think about me?"
"Every second of every day." His voice is raw. Wrecked. "I think about your smile and your laugh and the way you look in my shirts. I think about those noises you make when you're dreaming. I think about your body and your mouth and all the things I want to do to you that I have no right to want."
I'm trembling. My whole body is trembling.
"Leonid—"
"Tell me to stop." His forehead drops to mine, breath mingling with mine. "Tell me to let go and I'll let go. I'll give you money, a new identity, anything you want. You can walk out that door and I won't stop you."
"I don't want to walk out the door."
"Then tell me what you want."
I don't have words. I've never had words for this. So I do the only thing that makes sense.
I kiss him.
My lips find his, clumsy and uncertain, and for a heart-stopping moment he doesn't respond. Then his control shatters.
He takes over the kiss like he takes over everything—completely, overwhelmingly. His hands tangle in my hair, tilting my head back, and his tongue slides into my mouth. I gasp against his lips and he swallows the sound, kissing me deeper, harder, claiming me in a way I've never been claimed.
This is what wanting feels like.
Heat floods through me, pooling between my legs. I'm aching there now, actually aching, my clit throbbing with a need I don't know how to satisfy. I whimper into his mouth and he groans—a low, desperate sound that makes everything worse.
When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard. His pupils are blown wide, almost swallowing the ice-blue of his irises.
"Do you understand now?" he rasps. "What you're feeling?"
I nod, dazed.
"Your body wants mine." His thumb traces my lower lip, still wet from his kiss. "And I want yours. More than I've ever wanted anything."
"Then show me," I whisper. "Please."
Something shifts in his eyes. The last thread of his restraint snapping.
He doesn't ask. Doesn't hesitate. He lifts me like I weigh nothing—one arm under my knees, the other around my back—and carries me down the hallway to his bedroom. Our bedroom.
He lays me on the bed and stands over me, eyes raking down my body.
"Take off the shirt."
It's not a request. My hands tremble as I reach for the hem—his shirt, the one I always wear—and pull it over my head.
I'm not wearing a bra.
The cool air hits my bare breasts and my nipples tighten instantly. I move to cover myself, but his voice stops me cold.
"Hands down. Don't hide from me."
I force my arms to my sides. He stares at my breasts, my stomach, the plain cotton underwear, and I feel more exposed than I've ever been in my life.
"Those too. Take them off."
My face burns. But I hook my thumbs in the waistband and slide my underwear down my legs, kicking them aside.
Now I'm completely naked. Spread out on his bed while he stands fully clothed, watching me like I'm prey.
"Open your legs."
I hesitate. My whole body goes hot with shame. No one's ever seen me there. I've barely looked at myself—always averting my eyes in the bathroom, washing quickly, never exploring. The idea of him looking at that part of me makes me want to disappear.
"Lily." His voice drops, dark and commanding. "Open."
I part my thighs. Slowly. My face is burning so hot I think I might actually combust. I stare at the ceiling because I can't bear to see him looking at me like this—spread open, exposed, vulnerable in a way I've never been.
"Good girl." The praise sends a shiver through me despite my mortification. "Look at me."
I force my eyes down. He's staring between my legs with an expression that makes my stomach flip—hungry, reverent, wanting.
"You're soaked," he says, almost to himself. "So wet. Is that all for me?"
"I—I don't know what's happening to me—" My voice comes out strangled. I want to close my legs, hide, but his hands are on my thighs, holding me open.
"Your body knows what it wants." He lowers himself between my legs, his shoulders spreading me even wider, and I make a sound of distress. "Even if you don't."
"Wait—you're not going to—" I try to sit up, mortified. "You can't put your mouth there—"
"I can." He presses a kiss to my inner thigh. "I'm going to."
"But that's—I've never even—I don't look at myself there—"
"I know." Another kiss, higher this time. His breath is hot against my most sensitive skin. "And now I'm going to taste every inch of you. And you're going to let me."
Then his mouth is on me.
I scream.
Not from pain—from pleasure so intense it borders on unbearable. His tongue drags through my folds, finds that swollen bundle of nerves, and sucks.
My hips buck off the bed. He pins them down with one strong arm, holding me in place while he devours me.
"Leonid—I can't—"
"You can." He doesn't stop. "You will. You're going to come on my tongue, and then you're going to come on my fingers, and then—" He slides one thick finger inside me and I cry out. "Then I'm going to show you what this body was made for."
I don't know what that means. I can barely think. There's pressure building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter, something I've never felt before.
His tongue circles my clit while his finger moves inside me—in, out, curling against a spot that makes me see stars.
"That's it." His voice is rough, approving. "Let go. Come for me, Lily. Now."
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me—my back arching, my thighs clamping around his head, my whole body convulsing. I'm screaming his name, or maybe just screaming, I can't tell anymore. Waves of pleasure crash over me, one after another, until I'm sobbing with it.
When I finally come down, I'm shaking. Tears streak my face. I feel broken open, completely undone.
"Good girl," he murmurs against my inner thigh. "That's my good girl."
He crawls up my body, and I expect him to hold me, comfort me. Instead, he stands at the edge of the bed and reaches for his belt.
"Now you're going to see what you do to me."
The leather slides through the loops. He unbuttons his pants, pushes them down with his boxer briefs, and—
Oh god.
I stop breathing.
He's... I don't... I've never seen a man naked before. Never seen this. His cock juts out from his body, thick and hard and impossibly big. The head is flushed dark, already leaking, and it looks angry somehow. Demanding.
There's no way that's going to fit inside me.
"Leonid—" My voice comes out strangled. "That's—you're—"
"This is what you do to me." He wraps his hand around himself, strokes once, and I watch, transfixed. "Every day. Every time I look at you. Every time I smell you on my sheets."
I can't look away. Can't stop staring at the sheer size of him, the way his hand barely wraps around the girth. Fear and arousal war in my chest—terror at what's coming, but also a deep, primal want that I don't understand.
"It won't fit," I whisper.
"It will." He releases himself and kneels on the bed, caging me with his body. He's completely naked now, all hard muscle and scarred skin and overwhelming maleness. "Your body was made to take me. I'll make sure of it."
He kisses me and I taste myself on his tongue. His cock presses against my thigh, hot and hard, and I gasp into his mouth.
I chose this.
I chose him.