Chapter 15
ELLA
The anguish in Leo’s voice is almost my undoing.
I could tell by his knock that he was keyed up. I didn’t expect to be backed into a wall as soon as I opened the door, but here we are.
Every inch of him vibrates with energy. Leo always had this enigmatic aura around him that seemed to swirl through the air, but tonight, he’s even more intense than usual. As tense as he appears, his hand still cups my neck tenderly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking my skin.
“I want to hate you, Ella,” he says, his voice growly as his hot breath dances across my skin. “But I can’t. How am I supposed to move on when all I can think about is consuming you?”
Holy hell.
My hands find purchase on his waist, gripping his shirt tightly.
He drops his jacket at our feet, and his hand slides over my hip to the top of my ass.
His fingers flex, and I let out a tiny moan.
“I forgot how you taste, Ladybug. I can’t remember the sounds you make when you come on my tongue, or how it feels to have you clench around me.
As much as I think I should walk away, because this won’t end well, I fucking can’t, because I might die tonight if I don’t fuck you. ”
“Please,” I rasp, my body shaking with adrenaline. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched by a man. Well, since Leo. He’s the only man I’ve ever been with. The only kiss, caress, and lovemaking. Every first of mine has been his. “Leo, please.”
“Fuck,” he croaks, crashing our lips together in a passionate kiss.
Letting go of my neck, he grabs both of my thighs, boosting me to wrap my legs around his waist. My hands drift into his hair, noting how much thicker it is, loving how he groans into my mouth as my nails scratch against his scalp.
He’s ravenous for me, and I for him, as my hips begin moving on their own accord, pressing down against his bulge to find the best friction.
But he’s wearing a belt, and it’s poking against me.
Sensing what I need, Leo jams a hand between us, undoing his belt.
He shimmies his jeans down slightly, just enough for his cock to bounce out, and it hits my clit perfectly.
I’m wearing very thin panties under Leo’s old wrestling shirt, and I recognize the exact second he notices. “God damn, baby.”
God damn is right. I need him. Right now. Right here. I know how perfect it feels to be filled by him, and I have to have him. “Leo, I need you. Right fucking now.”
He doesn’t answer, but slides a finger under the hem of my panties, pulling them to the side.
Then the head of his cock is pushing against me, sliding inside, and I let out a guttural moan as he fills me.
It’s perfect. The burn from years without sex is just a smidgeon outside of painful, but I love it.
I’d almost forgotten how spectacular this feeling is.
Or maybe in a method of self-preservation, I’d blocked it out.
Because this? There is no way anything could ever top how extraordinary it feels to be fucked by Leo Santo.
“Jesus, El,” he grunts. “God, you feel so fucking good. This is gonna be quick. I need you to get there with me.”
I murmur incoherently, aware that my orgasm is barreling toward us at breakneck speed.
Leo barely has time to pull all the way out before I’ve clamped down on him, my back bowing off the wall.
A kaleidoscope of color explodes behind my eyelids as I cry out.
Leo only manages a couple more pumps before he comes, resting his head against my neck.
“That was quicker than I intended,” he mutters sheepishly, chuckling against my skin. The sensation makes me shiver, and I feel him smile. “It’s, uh, been a while for me.”
“Me too,” I admit, suddenly shy. It’s like our first time all over again, but we’re middle-aged and sex-starved.
I let my legs slide off his waist, and he slowly lowers me to the ground.
As soon as his cock slips out of me, I feel empty.
That familiar ache is there, but it feels wrong all of a sudden.
Like Leo is meant to always be inside of me.
The familiar feeling of his release slipping out of me makes me grimace, and Leo’s eyes widen. “Shit. I didn’t use a condom.”
“It’s okay. Pretty sure it’s the wrong time of the month,” I tell him as I walk into the bathroom.
“You aren’t on birth control?” he asks.
“No. Not dating, so no need for birth control. Plus, that costs money, and I’d rather my funds go to food and utilities,” I call out as I clean myself up. I hear a knock on the door, and as I walk back into the living room, Leo is opening it to a frazzled Whitley. “What happened?”
“She’s got a fever, and she literally won’t stop crying. I tried everything, El.” Whitley looks exhausted, with a handful of hair out of her messy bun. As she walks toward me with Oliver trailing behind her, Violet lunges out of Whitley’s arms and into Leo’s.
“Hey, baby girl,” he coos, settling her against his shoulder. He absentmindedly kisses her forehead, then looks at me. “She’s really warm.”
“Let me grab the thermometer and infant Tylenol,” I say, dashing into my bedroom. Whitley follows me in, cornering me by my en suite bathroom.
“Did I interrupt something?” she hisses. “Crap. I’m so sorry. You look deliciously fucked, my friend.”
“You technically didn’t interrupt anything, but you would have if you were five minutes sooner,” I admit with a grin. Whitley squeals, jumping up and down as she claps her hands.
“I knew it was only a matter of time! Good for you, girl. Get back on that horse!”
I shake my head as I stride past her, items in hand. Violet’s cheeks are red, and she looks miserable as she rests her head on Leo’s shoulder. I run the temporal thermometer across her forehead, finding it well over one-oh-two.
“Is the butt temperature only for really new babies?” Whitley asks, and Leo chuckles.
“The butt temperature,” he deadpans.
Whitley throws her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know what it’s called! You stick it up their butt.”
“It’s a rectal thermometer, and yes, it’s usually more accurate at this age. But,” I say, rubbing my hand down Violet’s back, “I don’t want to aggravate her any more right now. She clearly feels like crap. We’ll see if Tylenol helps.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Whitley asks.
I shrug. “Then I call the pediatrician in the morning.”
“You’re pretty blasé about this,” she says.
“My sister used to say, ‘treat the child, not the fever.’ So I’ll give her some meds, then see if she improves. If she gets worse, we’ll go to the emergency room.”
“Auntie Ella?” Oliver asks.
“What, buddy?”
“Can I get a snack?”
“How about some string cheese?” I ask, and he nods. After getting him the snack, I turn on the television for him, then walk Whitley to the door. “Thanks for watching them for a little bit.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your evening,” she says quietly.
I smile with a one-shoulder shrug. “It was probably over anyway.”
Whitley gives me a quick hug, waves over her shoulder to Leo, then escapes out the door. I turn to look at Leo, as he’s slowly sitting on the couch. “What are you doing? I can take her.”
“I think we both know she’s going to scream her head off if you try,” he says calmly.
I watch as he kicks off his shoes, then settles back into a lounging position.
Violet lifts her head to look at Leo, then turns to look at me.
Once she sees me, she sighs, then lays her head back down.
“Get the Tylenol, Ladybug. Let’s get this little lady feeling better. ”
I quietly measure out the age appropriate dosage for Violet, then approach them. Sitting beside Leo, I’m just about to push the syringe into Violet’s mouth when she vomits all over him. “Oh no!”
When I go to grab her, he stops me. “It’s alright. Let her finish.”
“Let her finish puking on you?” I ask incredulously.
“I’m already a mess. Besides, it’s not like she did it on purpose. This way you don’t have to clean anything.” Leo carefully pats her back as she throws up again. As soon as she’s done, she lets out a pained yowl. “Okay. She’s done.”
“How do you know?”
“Baby, I have a billion nieces and nephews, plus three younger siblings. Four if you count Gia. I know things about kids. Can I use your shower?” he asks as I pull Violet from him. Grabbing the baby wipes container, I clean her face and hands, noticing not one drop of puke got on her.
“Yeah,” I murmur, watching as he carefully stands up, moving his shirt to contain all the puke. “I can wash your clothes if you’d like.”
“I’d prefer clean clothes over sitting in this,” he calls out as he strides into the kitchen.
I watch as he dumps the liquid into the trash can, then peels off his shirt, placing it in the sink.
He unzips his jeans, and I realize he never buckled his belt after we had sex.
Stripping his jeans off, he places them next to the shirt. “I’ll, uh, go shower now.”
My mouth drops open as Leo confidently walks past me.
Scores of tattoos cover his pecs, and I almost step forward to get a closer look.
I bet there’s a story for every one of them.
Then my eyes dance south, stopping to ogle his butt.
God, he has an amazing ass, and his boxer briefs make it look even better.
But then my eyes drift lower, and I see his mangled legs.
Scars from shrapnel dot along both legs, from ankle to thigh, but one leg looks significantly smaller than the other.
Multiple long scars travel the length of his calf, and his knee is misshapen.
Tears fill my eyes as I think about all the trauma he’s been through.
Trauma he handled alone, because he didn’t have me, and he didn’t want to burden his family.
God, what a selfish bitch I am.
“Auntie Ella, why are you crying?” Oliver asks softly. I look over at my sweet nephew, innocently chewing on his string cheese, and wipe the tears from my face.