A deep, surging pressure radiates out from my core, growing with every passing second. His every thrust glances against my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout my body. I cling onto Leo’s unstoppable form, raking my fingers along his muscled back. I’ve never felt anything this shattering, this powerful. I’m almost afraid to face it. But just as I’m about to retreat from the enormity of what’s passing between us, Leo turns my face to his and kisses me. His deep, searing kiss levels all of my defenses. I’m vulnerable, and raw, and entirely his. With our lips locked, he drives into me with deafening, incredible might. And together, we give in.
Leo comes hard, a thick burst filling up every inch of me as we ride our wave of roaring pleasure. Our cries of ecstasy rise together in the steam-filled air, bouncing against the bathroom walls. He gushes into me with amazing force as ripples of sensation course along my every nerve. It feels, for a spell, like this moment will be endless. That we’ll stay suspended like this together, alone in our haze of bliss and passion.
But what goes up must come down. From the peaks of pleasure, well above anywhere I’ve been transported to before, we drift back down to earth. I let my head fall against his shoulder, suspended against his heaving body. We breathe into each other, still connected in that most intimate way as the shower rains down upon us. Finally, with controlled gentleness, Leo lowers me back onto my own two feet. I blink up at him through the steam, completely at a loss for words.
“Well...shit,” I mutter. It’s all I can manage.
“You’re a great fuck,” he laughs, tucking a damp curl behind my ear. His voice is low—gentle, even. The cast of his eyes has changed. He’s still as playful and cutting as ever, but there’s something knowing about his gaze that makes me feel perfectly safe.
“Leo,” I begin, “That was...”
“I know,” he cuts me off, “No words. I know.”
I shake my head, amazed at every turn by this man. How can one person be so aloof and intimidating, and yet so perceptive and insightful? But of course, Leo is hardly just some person. He’s the most incredible man I’ve ever met. Bar none.
“Come here,” he says, grabbing a bottle of body wash from the shower rack, “Nothing like cleaning up after a good, dirty shower, am I right?”
I laugh as he tugs me beneath the hot stream, lathering up his hands and running them all along my body. I grab the bottle and follow suit, sudsing up his tight muscles. I let my hands roam all over his body, lingering and learning the shape of him. We’re all but silent, exploring one another. His hands are surprisingly tender, now, and no wonder. We’ve finally had each other the way we’ve been dying to, after all. We’ve shared something that can never be taken back. And I couldn’t be happier.
My eyes drink up every inch of him, every intricate tattoo and cut muscle. Here and there, my fingers alight on scars, some old and some new. Long lacerations, shallow pockmarks, even something that looks an awful lot like a bite mark...this body of his has certainly been through the ringer. I wonder about the history of his wounds, what his life has been up until now. It almost makes me want to weep, imagining the things he’s been through. Or perhaps it’s knowing that I’ll probably never be able to understand his pain that hurts most of all.
When we’re scrubbed clean, Leo cuts off the water and steps around me to fetch a couple of towels. He tosses one to me, water droplets streaming down his hard body. He wraps a towel around the v of his waist, shrouding that glorious cock of his from view once more. I step out after him, catching a glimpse of us in the foggy bathroom mirror. I’m disarmed by this domestic-seeming scene—a couple stepping out of the shower together, relaxed and happy in each other’s company. What if I could truly have this kind of intimacy with someone? And what if that someone was Leo after all?
“So, what does this make me now?” I ask, clutching the plush towel to my naked body, “Your house mouse? Your sweetie?”
“Truth be told, I don’t know if there’s a word that does you justice,” he laughs, “You’ll just have to be my woman, my property. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like something I could get behind,” I smile.
“Good,” he says, taking my face in his mighty hands, “How about that steak?”
Chapter Thirteen
I may have spent my college years subsisting on midnight pizza and ramen, and my LA years chugging kale smoothies, but this girl still knows how to throw an excellent meal together, fit for the hungriest of men. My sisters and I were left to our own devices for most of our childhood, after all. And as the youngest, and therefore easiest to push around, I ended up shouldering a lot of the cooking burden. It seems to have finally paid off now, though, as I set to work whipping up a feast for my very own Wraith.
“Look at you,” Leo smiles, strolling into the kitchen as I cook away, “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any hotter...”
My curls are pulled into a high ponytail, and I stand before the stove in nothing but one of Leo’s tee shirts. My bare feet rock against the floor as I stir and simmer, very pleased with myself. I never imagined that cooking for a man could feel satisfying—I’ve never tried it before. But I have to admit, I’m getting a kick out of this little adventure into domesticity.
“Hope you’ve worked up an appetite,” I say, doing my best sexy housewife impression.
“Between the fight this afternoon and the shower just now, you bet I have,” he laughs, standing behind me as I oversee our meal.
He wraps his thick arms around my waist, content to just hold me as I cook. It’s the simplest of touches, but it means more to me than a lot of the lays I’ve had in my life. There’s something so honest about Leo. He doesn’t pad his actions or words with romantic schmaltz or flowery sentiments. He says exactly what’s on his mind, which means I can take every word at face value. I appreciate that—it’s something I never knew I was missing until I found it.
“Why don’t you go sit down, before you get me all worked up?” I say softly, rubbing my ass lightly against his crotch.
“Get you all worked up?” he laughs, running his hands over the rise of my rear, “What do you think you’re doing to me?”
“I think I know,” I laugh, shoving him lightly away, “Now go on. It’s almost ready now.”
Leo settles himself down at the kitchen table set for two, just before a tall, wide window, overlook the rolling hills all around us. The sun is just setting over the rusty landscape, casting an orange glow across Leo’s face. I almost send one of the pans clattering to the floor, I’m so overcome by how gorgeous he is. His hardened features could have been carved out of marble, from his aquiline nose to his high cheekbones. Even his dark, scruffy beard is run through with hints of brilliant color. But of course, it’s his eyes that do me in, as ever. In this perfect golden light, they’re positively on fire. How did I ever get so lucky to spend even a few days in this man’s presence?