"Come on," I say softly, taking Leon's hand. "Let's go to bed. I think we both need it." I tug him toward the door.
I tug Leon toward the door, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and raw need. It's been a torturous, endless month of stolen kisses, lingering touches, and nights where I've lain awake beside him, my body aching for more while I healed. Butnow? Now, the doctor's words echo in my head like permission granted: I'm ready. We're ready.
He follows without resistance, his grey eyes darkening with that predatory hunger I've come to crave. The hallway feels too long, every step heightening the tension coiling low in my belly. By the time we reach our bedroom, my skin is flushed, my thighs already slick with arousal.
"Strip," he commands, his voice low and rough, laced with the control that makes my knees weak. No preamble, no gentle easing in. He's starved, just like me, and it shows in the way his jaw clenches, his hands flexing at his sides like he's holding back from ripping my clothes off himself.
I obey, my fingers trembling as I pull my shirt over my head, letting it drop to the floor. My bra follows, the cool air pebbling my nipples instantly. His gaze devours me, tracing every curve, lingering on the faint stretch marks from carrying Niko, marks he worships like badges of honor. I shimmy out of my jeans and panties in one go, standing bare before him, exposed and throbbing with need.
"Good girl," he murmurs, stepping closer. One hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his intense stare. "You've been so patient, moya krasotka. But tonight? Tonight, I take what's mine. All of it." His other hand cups my pussy, his middle finger immediately sliding inside.
A shiver races down my spine. "Yes," I breathe, my voice husky. "I've missed you so much. Missed feeling you inside me, owning me."
His mouth crashes down on mine, the kiss brutal and claiming, his tongue invading with a desperation that mirrors my own. I moan into it, my hands clutching his shirt, but he breaks away too soon, his breath hot against my lips. "On the bed. Hands above your head."
He backs me up, his finger still swirling inside me as I edge toward the bed.
I sink onto the mattress, stretching my arms up as instructed, my body arching instinctively toward him. He pulls his finger from me and sheds his clothes with efficient grace, revealing the hard planes of his tattooed chest, the V of his hips leading down to his cock, already thick and straining, already leaking at the tip. God, I've missed this sight, missed him.
He climbs over me, his weight pressing me down, and reaches for the drawer in the nightstand. My pulse spikes when I see what he pulls out: soft silk ties, the ones we've used before. "Remember these?" he asks, his voice a dark promise. "I'm going to bind you, Florrie. Keep you open and helpless while I remind you who you belong to."
"Yes," I whimper, my core clenching at the thought. The kink of it, the surrender, ignites something primal in me. After a month of restraint, I need his control, need him to dominate and drive us both over the edge.
He loops the silk around my wrists, securing them to the headboard with practiced knots. Not too tight, but firm enough that I can't escape. I test them, tugging lightly, and the restraint sends a flood of heat between my legs. "Leon..."
"Shh." He trails a finger down my body, from my bound wrists over my collarbone, circling one nipple until it's a tight peak, then pinching hard enough to make me gasp. Pain blurs into pleasure, and I arch up, begging for more.
He pulls more silk ties from the drawer and I immediately know where this is going.
“Please?” he asks. “I need it.”
I nod my head and adjust my position so I’m comfortable when he wraps the silk around my ankle and lifts, tying the otherend to the headboard. He leans back and takes in the view or me spread before him.
"Fuck Florrie. You've been such a good mother to our son. You’re such a good wife to me. Now let me reward you. Let me pleasure you until you're screaming my name. Begging me to fill you again. Squirting all over me."
He fists his cock while his eyes roam over my core, bare and aching for him. Then he pushes two fingers inside me.
I'm soaked, embarrassingly wet, and he groans as he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
"So tight. So ready. You've been clenching around nothing for a month, haven't you? Dreaming of my cock filling you up."
"Yes—oh god, yes," I pant, my hips bucking against his hand. He adds a third finger, stretching me, pumping slowly, letting the pressure build in my starved and oversensitive body. "Leon, I'm—fuck—I'm close already."
"Not yet." He pulls his hand away abruptly, and I whine in frustration, tugging at the ties. His chuckle is dark, wicked. "You come when I say, moya krasotka. And only around my cock. I want to feel you milk me, drench me, quiver around me…"
He presses on my thighs, pushing them further apart and watching my pussy open for him.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Florrie, and all mine.”
He positions himself between my legs, his hands either side of my ribs. The head of his cock notches at my entrance, teasing, and I strain against the bonds, desperate to pull him in.
"Beg for it," he demands, his control absolute, even as I see the tremor in his arms, the sweat beading on his forehead. He's as starved as I am, but he's drawing it out, savoring the power.
"Please, Leon," I sob, my voice breaking with need. "Fuck me. Hard. Fill me up, breed me again and again. Just take me, own me, make me yours."
His eyes flash with feral heat at the breeding talk, a kink we've explored before, one that turns him into a beast.
"Fuck yes," he growls. "I’ve been saving this for you, Florrie. You’ll get a months’ worth of cum to fill you up. Put another baby in you. You're mine to breed, mine to claim."
