28. The Reverence
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE REVERENCE
Layla
Orion gazes down at me as one of his hands runs up my thigh. I squirm as the cool marble soothes the sore spots on my ass, and I realize with a start that I probably look ridiculous spread out on his kitchen island like this.
I squirm—and he doesn’t look away.
I can’t seem to get away from his heated gaze—not since we left Inferno. I can feel it wherever we go together, and I soon realized that his feelings for me go much deeper than I thought.
He grabs one of my ankles and moves it up so that my foot is flat on the edge of the island.
He repeats the motion with the other leg.
It’s jarring to be this exposed and laid out like his own personal feast.
“Open wider,” he commands, warm hands on the insides of my thighs as he pushes them to the side, and then he runs both hands along the insides of my legs, getting close to my core but not close enough to expect any sort of relief.
I whimper and my half-hooded eyes flick across his face. Orion’s thumb slips higher, grazing the area between my leg and vulva. I gasp, and he chuckles.
“Sometimes, the anticipation is better than the release,” he says, blue eyes falling over my chest. “Take your shirt off. I want you naked.”
I reach for the hem of my tank top, pulling it up and using my abdominal muscles to hold me up a couple of inches as I pull it over my head and throw it somewhere behind me.
His hand moves up to my stomach, and it lays flat against my lower belly—the rounder part I’m most self-conscious about.
I know realistically that it’s normal for women not to have flat stomachs. Even me—who is considered a professional ballet dancer. I tense when he begins to massage my flesh, and his expression softens slightly.
“Relax,” he says, voice low. “I need to know if talking about your body is okay.”
His words startle me. “What do you mean?”
His brow wrinkles. “I did a lot of research on eating disorder recovery, and one of the things people in recovery consistently said was that comments about their bodies always set them off. Not just negative comments—all comments. So I want to be sure I don’t threaten your recovery before I say something. I know I got carried away earlier and forgot to ask?—”
“Orion.” My throat catches, and I move my hand on top of his. He did research? That’s really thoughtful. “It’s okay. Like I said, as long as it’s not degrading, you can say whatever you want about my body.”
His eyes darken as his hand twitches underneath mine. Suddenly, he drops his head on my chest, placing a kiss along my collarbone. I get a whiff of tobacco and leather when his hair tickles my chin, and I inhale sharply when he does it again along the other collarbone.
“Good. Because I plan to worship you, Layla. Your body is perfect.” His hand presses down against my lower stomach gently, and then he kisses my breasts—one after the other. The soft touches make my nipples harden, and I’m panting by the time he gets down to my stomach. “You’re strong. You’re beautiful. Every muscle, every curve, every freckle.” He trails kisses to my hips, kissing each hip bone. “And not just because of how it looks. But because it’s you. Because I can’t get enough of your smell, of how soft your skin is, of your taste—fuck, I’d make a deal with the devil and sell my soul if it meant I only got to taste you for the rest of my life, Layla.”
My breath hitches as one of his other hands works down to my seam.
I place a hand against his chest as my eyelashes flutter. His racing heart beats in tandem with mine.
My legs quiver as he inserts one finger inside me. I gasp on an inhale, and he pulls his finger out, giving me a playful smile.
“What—”
Without warning, he plunges two fingers inside me. I see stars as he roughly pounds into me, and his thumb bumps my piercing. He doesn’t relent, and my eyes roll into my head as my back arches off the table.
“Oh fuck?—”
“That’s it, Layla. No inhibitions. Not anymore. Tell me exactly what you want.”
“That—doing what you’re doing?—”
My hands fly to the edge of the island, and I grip it for dear life. It only intensifies the aching, building pressure inside me, because it keeps me from sliding back—and allows him to go harder.
“Orion,” I whimper.
“That’s not my name,” he says, tongue clicking. His fingers curl, dragging against the sensitive spot inside me.
“Fuck—yes, right there— Master. ”
“Good girl. Do you have any idea how fucking hot it is to see you falling apart, to see you scream out those filthy words?”
“God—yes?—”
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, and when I look up at him, he’s watching me with a tortured expression.
“Please, let me come,” I say, tension building inside me.
My muscles contract, and he still doesn’t relent. Instead, he goes deeper, until he’s inside me all the way to his first knuckle. The motion drags against the top of my opening, pulling at my piercing and sending a shock wave of pleasure searing through me.
“Fuck,” I rasp, circling my hips.
“Louder,” Orion commands.
“Fuck!”
He uses his other hand to flick my piercing, and something low and primal escapes me as sweet ecstasy spreads through me.
“I’m going to—Can I?—”
“Can you what?” he asks, lips quirking into a roguish smile.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, pleaseMastercanIcome ? — ”
His free hand comes to my throat, squeezing just enough to add pressure and an extra element to my already convulsing body.
“Come.”
The one-word command shatters some mental barrier I didn’t realize I’d erected because I detonate a second later.
My hips jerk against his knuckles, opening wider as an intense flurry of pleasure skitters down my spine all the way to my fingers and toes.
All I see and feel is sweet, pulsing light.
“Fuck yes, you’re gripping me so hard, Layla?—”
His thumb swipes against my piercing, dragging pain into the exploding pleasure, and my body pulls even tighter. I can’t think, can’t speak.
“Give me one more,” he says, gritting his teeth.
“Oh God?—”
I squirm, trying to get away from the intensity. It feels like I’m about to pee or die, and my eyes pop open as he works his hand harder.
“Come on, Little Dancer.” He does that scissor motion again, pressing against the inside of my inner walls, and it coaxes something agonizingly intense from inside me. My mouth drops open on a silent scream.
He adds a third finger, and my whole body goes as taut as a board. My legs quake as another orgasm crashes through me. It feels like I push him out as I groan, as something wet slides down my butt. This climax is brighter, pushing outward in wave after wave of the most intense orgasm of my life.
I vaguely register Orion groaning as I grip him fiercely, as my body jerks violently.
“Fuck yes,” he whispers, coaxing the last of it out of me.
I’m breathless, and my heart begins to slow as something warm and comforting settles over me. I’m so, so tired?—
Moving slightly, I feel the wetness beneath me. That wakes me up. I sit up and look down at Orion’s wet shirt, the nearly black eyes?—
“Oh God, did I pee?”
Orion’s mouth is on mine, and I can taste the acidity of the tomatoes he was eating earlier on his tongue. He moans into my mouth with a frantic neediness I didn’t realize was possible, especially since we just had sex. I pull him closer, running my fingers through his hair, and a whole-body shiver goes through him.
“No, you didn’t pee,” he says, smiling against my lips. “God, you’re perfect.”
“Did I?—”
I can’t say the word.
“Has that ever happened to you before?” he asks.
A bubble of laughter escapes my lips, and he pulls me up so that I’m sitting with him between my legs.
“No. Never. I thought it was a myth.”
Low laughter rumbles in his chest. “I’m addicted to you. Everything about you.”
I’m still shaking as his hands grip my hips, as he kisses me with everything he has, as he holds me like he never wants to let go. When he pulls away, he helps me up. I wince as I scoot off the marble onto my feet, feeling how wet the floor is.
“Turn around.”
I do as he says, facing the island. I expect him to take me from behind, but I only feel his hand on my backside, smoothing over the sore spots from earlier.
“I branded you with my initial,” he murmurs, hand smoothing over the skin of my hips, like he can’t stop touching me.
“Good,” I tell him, twisting around and placing both hands around his neck. “Because I’ve been yours for a very long time without even realizing it.”
His throat bobs as he looks down at me, and I can’t get enough of this man—of this sadistic, sweet, caring, teasing, arrogant man. It feels like I’m being shown paradise for the first time. How did I never know it could be like this between us? How did I never know it was possible to feel like this about another person? To adore them and also want them to touch you forever.
It’s a brand-new feeling for me.
I’ve never been in love. Not even close. But this? I swallow as he kisses my forehead.
This is something close to love.
It has to be.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says. “And then we have dessert.”
I perk up. “Oh?”
“You’ll never guess what kind of ice cream I got us.”
I laugh as he drags us toward his bedroom, and then into his en suite bathroom. I stand there like a deer in the headlights as he turns the shower on. The glass steams up instantly, and then he tugs his T-shirt off.
I watch as he pulls his sweatpants down his legs, and just as I’m about to ask him if we’re going to have sex again, he clicks his tongue.
“Just a shower, Layla. Come on. We have the rest of our lives to fuck. Let me wash your hair.”
I take his hand and follow him into his shower, feeling like I’m stepping into something real and raw and uncharted.
His hands are gentle as he guides me under the spray, his fingers threading through my hair, massaging my scalp with a tenderness that takes me by surprise. There’s an intimacy at this moment that feels deeper than anything we’ve shared before.
The rhythm of his movements is calming, almost hypnotic, as if he’s washing away more than just the day’s events.
It’s like he’s cleansing away all of our doubts, fears, and the walls I’ve built by telling myself I’d never have this with another person.
And the walls he built—telling himself that he’d never have me.
I close my eyes and lean into his touch, surrendering to the sensation. The water runs down my face, and it feels really good after the long day I’ve had. I relax into his touch fully.
This isn’t just about washing my hair.
It’s about trust, vulnerability, and letting someone else see the parts that are usually hidden from other people.
And Orion has seen every single part of me.
Somehow, he’s managed to effortlessly carve out a space in my heart without me even realizing it.
Like he’s always belonged there, quietly and patiently finding his way in.
Like he’s been waiting for me to catch up.