Special Chapter Where We Belong #3
Leon kneels between my knees, pushes the dress higher, and kisses the inside of one thigh. Slow, then the other. Sandalwood and clean soap and the faint outdoor scent of the hillside still cling to him.
When he reaches the soft plane of my belly, where our child lived, where the faint stretch marks remain six months later, he makes a broken sound and puts his mouth there properly.
He licks a long stripe of worship along one silver line. Another beside it. Bites soft next to a mark and soothes it with his tongue until the sting turns sweet. His hands cradle my hips as if I might try to hide but I do not hide.
"Bellissima," he breathes against my skin, voice wrecked already. "Every mark… Every soft place. You carried our baby, you gave me a family. Fuck, Ysabel. You're incredible."
"Yes, Leon… please…" My fingers find his hair. Tighten. "Don't tease. I need you."
"I'm not teasing. I'm thanking you." He peels my underwear down my legs and tosses them toward the chair, looks up at me once for the permission already bright in my eyes, and puts his mouth on me.
The first lick is long and flat, tasting me from entrance to clit until my back arches.
Then his tongue points, parts me, dips inside like he means to memorize the shape of me again. I grind down on his face without shame and he moans into me for it, filthy and grateful, the vibration sparking up my spine.
My hands stay buried in his hair, pulling when he hits the right spot, guiding him while night air cools the flush on my throat.
"That's it," he praises, words wet against me. "Use my mouth. Fuck, I love tasting you, I’ll never get tired of tasting you. Give it to me. Come on my tongue. Let me feel it. Ysabel… come."
He sucks gently on my clit, then licks lower again, fucking me with his tongue in short wet strokes while one hand holds my thigh open and the other presses warm over my marked belly.
I come quiet and hard, thighs shaking around his head, one hand clapped over my mouth so I do not wake the house.
Pleasure rolls through me in bright waves. He stays with me through every pulse, licking softer, kissing my inner thighs, then my belly again like he cannot leave the proof of our child unclaimed.
When he rises, his mouth is shining. He kisses my breasts through the open dress, then bare when he tugs the fabric lower, taking one nipple into his mouth until I hug his head to my chest and laugh under a moan.
Then he kisses my mouth, tasting of me, deep and claiming and sweet.
I pull him onto the bed with me, still laughing, still needy.
"I want you in me," I whisper against his lips. "I want to feel how deep you can be when you're not being careful for an audience."
"Anything you ask." His voice scrapes velvet. He strips the rest of the way with impatient hands while I shove my dress off entirely and leave it somewhere near the flowers. "On your side for me. I've got you. Always."
I lie on my side facing the open window, night air kissing my bare skin.
Leon stretches out behind me, chest to my back, heat along my spine, one arm sliding under my neck so I am held before I am taken. He hooks my top leg up and back, opening me, holding my knee in a firm gentle grip that sets the angle exactly where I asked.
Cool air touches where I am wet and aching. Then the blunt heat of him notches at my entrance. Thick, already leaking and he sinks in slowly.
Inch by inch. Then deeper. Until he is buried and we are both shaking.
"Fuck! Ysabel…" His forehead drops between my shoulder blades. A whine escapes him, helpless and filthy, and the sound undoes me almost as much as the stretch. "Feel how deep I am like this, yeah? Feel what you do to me after all these years."
"I feel it… cazzo, don't stop… Leon, please! Move…"
He fucks me from behind with my leg held high and open, long claiming strokes that rock the mattress softly against the wall.
One hand keeps my leg angled; the other roams with obsessive warmth: cupping my breast, pinching lightly until I gasp, stroking my hip, splaying over the soft postpartum belly he already kissed.
Every thrust hits deeper for the lift of my leg. Wet sounds, quiet moans. Praise and curses spill against my ear, romantic and dirty in the same loving breath.
"My wife. Taking me so well, so loud for me. Whine again. Yes, just like that… Perfetta. So good around my cock… Mine. Mine…"
"Harder," I beg, laughing under it, wrecked and happy, pushing back onto him. "I'm not breakable. Love me like you meant those vows. Love me like we have the whole night."
"I meant them." He snaps deeper, still loving, still dominant, still careful only of how much pleasure I can take and how soft we must stay for the sleeping baby down the hall. "I love you. I love this."
His free hand slips between my legs and circles where we join, slick and filthy, timed to his thrusts until the angle and his fingers and his voice tip me over.
I break with his name muffled in the pillow, clenching around him hard enough that he follows with a broken curse and my name, burying deep as he spills into me, holding my lifted leg through every pulse, kissing my shoulder, my neck, the yarn necklace like the private vow after the public one.
We stay joined until our breathing slows. Night air moves the curtains and leaves rustle outside.
Down the hall, the house stays blessedly quiet. His hand rests warm over my belly. My fingers stay tangled with his.
When he eases out of me, I laugh once, soft and ruined, and reach blindly toward covers we have not sorted yet. Already knowing, with the fond certainty of marriage.
Later, I reach for the sheet and discover Leon is lying on most of it.
"Move."
"Where?"
"Anywhere that lets me have some of this."
He lifts his hip, laughing when I pull harder than he expects. I settle beside him and let him draw the sheet over us both.
For a while neither of us speaks. The window is open a little, letting in the night air, and I can hear leaves moving outside.
"A good day?" he asks.
"You asked me that already."
"I'm asking about the rest of it."
I turn my face into his shoulder, smiling. "Yes, Leon. A very good day."
He kisses my hair. I leave my hand against his chest and fall asleep before either of us thinks of anything else to ask.
***
The morning comes soft and golden.