Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hailey
Leading the Line
Leif doesn’t waste time.
The second my “yes” leaves my lips, his hands are on me—firm, possessive, everywhere.
His fingers slide beneath the hem of my tank top, skimming the bare skin of my waist, teasing the band of my sleep shorts, testing just how far I’ll let him go.
And the answer?
As far as he fucking wants.
His grip tightens, his chest rising and falling fast, like he’s barely holding himself together. But he doesn’t rush. No, he drags it out, savoring the fact that I’m trembling.
“You have no idea what you just agreed to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my jaw, my cheek, my temple.
I shudder. “Leif?—”
“Shh, baby,” he soothes, his voice a rough whisper against my ear. “I’ll take care of you. Gonna make sure you never feel this desperate again. You understand?”
I don’t get the chance to answer, because his mouth claims mine, deep and consuming, like he’s been starving for this.
And maybe he has.
Maybe we both have.
My fingers sink into his shoulders, nails digging in as he kisses me until my mind spins and my body aches, pressing his body against mine, letting me feel exactly what I do to him.
He’s hard, thick, completely unrestrained.
And he wants me.
I moan into his mouth, hips shifting instinctively, chasing friction, but he grips my thigh, pinning me in place.
“Not yet,” he rasps, breaking the kiss just long enough to drag his lips down my neck, his teeth grazing my pulse.
My breath catches.
His hands slide lower, palms rough against my bare thighs, and then—oh.
He pulls away slightly, just enough to look at me, his eyes dark, unreadable. “You gonna let me have you, Hailey?”
I swallow hard, my pulse thundering, my skin too tight. “Yes.”
His growl vibrates against my throat. Then everything blurs. One second, I’m lying next to him. The next, I’m flat on my back, my sleep shorts sliding down my legs, my tank top bunched up above my waist.
Leif drags his gaze over me, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to control himself.
“Fuck, baby. Look at you.” His voice is gravel, thick and wrecked. “So fucking pretty. So perfect.”
A rush of heat rolls through me, a full-body flush that has me aching, throbbing, desperate.
He notices.
Of course he does.
He smirks, his hands sliding up the inside of my thighs, pushing them apart, opening me up.
“You’re already wet for me,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing where I need him most.
I whimper, hips jerking, but he holds me down.
“Patience,” he chides, his tone dripping amusement, control. “I’m gonna take my time with you, Hailey. Gonna make you fall apart so many times you forget your own fucking name.”
I whimper again, my thighs twitching in anticipation, the ache between them bordering on unbearable.
His hands—big, warm, and maddeningly slow—trail down my sides, grazing my ribs, my hips, before stopping just short of where I need him most. He watches me, soaking up every twitch, every sharp breath I can’t hold back. His mouth curves into a smirk, wicked and knowing, before he dips lower, his lips tracing a lazy path down my stomach.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, dragging his knuckles along the inside of my thigh, so close to where I want him but deliberately avoiding it.
I let out a soft, desperate sound, shifting my hips, hoping he’ll take pity on me, but he only chuckles, the vibration of it making me shiver.
“That cunt is needy,” he muses, his breath a whisper against my flushed skin. “Dripping. Desperate. Begging for me to touch her.”
He ghosts his fingers up the length of my thigh, stopping just short, hovering, teasing. My breath catches, my entire body tightening in anticipation.
“But I think I’ll keep torturing her a little longer.”
A strangled moan escapes me, my hands fisting in the sheets, my body arching toward him in helpless need.
He hums in satisfaction, kissing the crease where my thigh meets my hip, his lips unbearably close, but still—not close enough.
“Patience,” he reminds me again, voice thick with control. “Or maybe I’ll make you beg for it.”
His hands tighten on my thighs, spreading them wider, making me feel completely open to him, completely at his mercy. A slow, approving hum leaves him, his thumbs stroking over my inner thighs, just barely brushing the slick heat between them before retreating.
I cry out in frustration, my hips lifting, searching for relief, but he tsks, pressing me back down with a firm hand on my stomach.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement, dark with something deeper. “So fucking needy. So desperate for me, but you haven’t even asked nicely.”
I bite my lip, swallowing back the whimper threatening to escape. His fingers trace lazy patterns over my skin, his mouth following, teasing, never quite where I need him. The ache between my legs grows unbearable, a dull, throbbing pulse that makes it impossible to think about anything except him, his touch, his mouth?—
He presses a single finger against my soaked entrance, just barely dipping inside before pulling back. My whole body jerks, a choked sound escaping me.
His chuckle is low, smug. “Fuck, you’re not only wet. You’re already dripping. So easy for me.” His lips skim over my thigh, his breath warm, torturous. “I could make you come right now with nothing but my voice, couldn’t I?”
I nod frantically, but he clucks his tongue, shaking his head. “No, sweetheart. Use your words.”
My fingers dig into the sheets. I hate how easily he reduces me to this—a trembling, aching mess willing to say whatever it takes to get him to give me what I want.
“Please,” I whisper, voice wrecked.
“Please what?” He nudges my clit with the lightest brush of his thumb, just enough to make me jolt, make my breath stutter.
“Please,” I repeat, my body tightening. “Please touch me. I need it—I need you.”
His laugh is dark, rough with satisfaction. “Yeah? Need me to ruin this pretty little pussy? Make her feel good?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
He drags his fingers through my slick folds, spreading the wetness, groaning like he enjoys the mess I’ve made for him.
“Fuck, this cunt is begging for me. So swollen, so fucking ready,” he murmurs, rubbing slow, torturous circles around my clit. “And I haven’t even really touched you yet.”
I whimper, hips shifting against his hand, but he grips my thigh, holding me in place.
“Ah, ah, don’t be greedy. You take what I give you, nothing more.”
I moan in frustration, my head falling back against the pillows. He watches me, drinking in every little reaction, dragging this out just to watch me fall apart piece by piece.
Then, finally, finally, he presses his mouth to my soaked heat, his tongue flicking over my clit in one slow, devastating stroke.
I cry out, my back arching off the bed, my hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands. But he grips my wrists, pinning them to my stomach with one strong hand.
“Keep them there,” he orders, his breath hot against me. “Or I stop.”
I freeze, the threat sinking in. He wouldn’t?—
But the look in his eyes tells me he absolutely would.
“Good girl,” he praises when I obey, my fingers curling into my own skin, resisting the overwhelming urge to pull him closer. “Now let me hear you beg for it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, already unraveling. “Please?—”
His tongue flicks over me again, slower this time, deliberate. “Louder.”
“Please,” I whimper, my voice breaking. “Please make me come?—”
He groans against me, and then—he gives me exactly what I want. His mouth hovers over me, warm breath ghosting over my slick heat, sending a shudder through my body. But he doesn’t touch me—not properly. Just enough to make me tremble, to keep me on the edge, aching for more.
I try to shift my hips, to get closer, but his hands tighten on my thighs, keeping me spread and utterly at his mercy.
“Not so fast,” he murmurs, his voice all amusement and control. “You still haven’t told me exactly what you want.”
Fuck, he’s infuriating. I don’t even remember what I’ve said, I only know that if he doesn’t make me come right now, I’m going to explode with need. My head tips back against the pillow, a frustrated whimper slipping past my lips. He knows what I want—he can see how soaked I am, how desperate I’ve become under his touch. But he wants to hear me say it.
“Just do it, please,” I gasp.
His fingers skim up my thigh, stopping just short of where I need them. “No, babe. I just don’t do shit. I deliver what you want—only when you ask nicely.”
I swallow hard, my body trembling. “I need you. All of you.”
He hums like he’s considering, like he isn’t already rock hard from teasing me this long. Then, his voice drops, low and commanding.
“Do you want my fingers,” he taunts, dragging one along my soaked entrance but not pushing in, “or my mouth?”
A strangled moan escapes me, my thighs twitching in his hold. “Both,” I whisper, wrecked.
His dark chuckle vibrates through me. “Greedy girl,” he murmurs, pressing the lightest kiss to my inner thigh. “That needy, huh?”
I nod frantically, my breath catching when he finally—finally—slides a finger through my slick folds, teasing my entrance but not pushing inside.
“Tell me,” he commands.
I exhale sharply. “I need both. Your fingers—your mouth—I need you to make me come.”
His groan is low and dark, like my begging is exactly what he wanted. “That’s better,” he praises. “Good girl.”
And then, without warning, he gives me everything.
His mouth is on me, hot and wet, his tongue flicking over my clit in slow, devastating strokes. At the same time, his fingers push inside, stretching me, filling me, curling just right.
I cry out, my body jolting at the sudden rush of pleasure, my hands gripping the sheets because if I touch him—if I dare pull his hair or try to control the pace—he’ll stop. And I can’t handle that.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against me, the vibrations of his voice making me shudder. “Take what I give you, Hailey. Feel how fucking good I can make you feel.”
His fingers pump into me, slow and deep, his mouth relentless against my clit, working me over until I’m trembling, gasping, completely undone beneath him.
“Such a sweet little cunt,” he groans, his tongue pressing against my swollen clit in a way that has my entire body tightening. “So fucking tight?—”
I sob his name, my orgasm already creeping up, fast and unstoppable.
He lifts his head just enough to smirk. “Go on, sweetheart. Let me feel it.”
And then I shatter.
I’m still trembling, my body wracked with aftershocks as I sink into the mattress, boneless, spent. He lingers between my thighs, pressing soft kisses over my skin, trailing them up the inside of my legs, his hands smoothing over me like he’s calming me down, bringing me back to him.
A soft hum rumbles from his chest as he drags his tongue over me, slow, deliberate. Cleaning me, savoring me.
I twitch, oversensitive, but he doesn’t stop. He flattens his tongue, licking me through the remnants of my release, his hands keeping my thighs open as he takes his time, gentle now, reverent.
“Shh,” he soothes, pressing a final kiss to my clit before pulling back, his voice a quiet murmur against my skin. “Just taking care of what’s mine.”
Mine.
The word mine settles deep, somewhere inside me I don’t want to name.
He shifts, moving up my body, pressing his weight over me like a grounding force. His lips brush my jaw, my cheek, my temple, leaving warmth in their wake.
“You did so good for me,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I barely process being lifted into his arms, carried effortlessly through the room toward his private bathroom. The space is dimly lit, warm, filled with the faint scent of cedar and bergamot. He sets me down on a sleek wooden bench near the tub, his hands lingering on my thighs as he kneels in front of me, his eyes dark, unreadable.
“Stay here,” he orders gently, pressing a kiss to my knee before rising.
I watch as he turns the faucets, adjusting the water until steam curls into the air. He moves with practiced ease, grabbing a glass container of something dark gold, pouring it under the stream, making the water cloud with soft, silky bubbles. Then, a few drops from another bottle, something floral and rich, scenting the air like something decadent.
But my attention drifts from his hands to him.
When his thumbs hook into the band of his gray sweatpants, and he shoves them down. My breath catches. He’s big. Thick, long, heavy between his legs, his cock hanging full and tempting. My cunt clenches at the sight, need blooming in my core, my thighs pressing together without thought. He’s so hard already, a bead of precum gathering at the flushed tip, and suddenly, I don’t feel tired at all.
He notices.
A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he takes a step closer, his cock swaying slightly with the movement. His hands slide up my thighs, parting them with ease, his touch teasing as he watches me fight my own hunger.
“Already needy again?” His voice is thick, dark, filled with wicked amusement. His fingers ghost over the slick heat between my legs, barely touching, just enough to make me gasp. “Didn’t I just fuck you dumb, sweetheart?”
I shiver, gripping the edge of the bench, my body betraying me.
But he only hums in approval, stroking a knuckle along my slit, feeling how wet I already am again.
“This pretty little cunt doesn’t know when to quit, does she?” he murmurs, his tone almost pitying as he drags his fingers through my slickness, smearing it over my swollen clit. “Still begging for me to fill her up.”
A whimper escapes me, my hips jerking forward, seeking more.
He chuckles, low and dark, his fingers pulling away just as quickly as they came. “Not yet,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my parted lips, teasing, soft. “First, I’m going to take care of you. Then, I’m going to show you that I don’t have any transmittable diseases, and then . . . I’ll fill you up with my cum so you remember who you belong to.”
I’m still trembling when he finally lifts me, cradling me in his arms again as he steps into the tub. The warm water envelops my body as he lowers me in, settling me against the smooth porcelain. Before I can even think, he slides in right behind me, his long legs bracketing mine, his chest warm and solid against my back.
His arms come around me, his hands stroking over my stomach, my ribs, my thighs, everywhere. His mouth presses soft kisses to my damp shoulder, his voice a low, hushed promise.
“Let me take care of you, Hailey,” he murmurs, his fingers lacing with mine under the water, squeezing gently. “Let me love you.”
A soft exhale shudders through me. I don’t answer—I can’t.
But I lean into him.
And I let him.