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“Erika, baby.” He places his knuckle under my chin to lift my eyes to meet his. “You can trust me.”

“I can’t come.” A strained noise that sounds a lot like frustration escapes my chest as more embarrassment climbs my throat. “It feels good to begin with, but something blocks me from going the distance, and I lock up. I just can’t, have never, come with a man.”

Leon challenges me as if time pauses, his eyes searching the hidden, unlit corners of my soul.

“Never?” he asks.

“Well, I can by myself, but no one else has ever made me come.”

“Why?” His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to figure me out.

“I get too stuck in my head and overthink everything, and just as I’m about to fall over the edge, it suddenly disappears. And it’s like everyone I’ve ever been with; all they want to do is get it over with so they can come themselves.” I can’t believe I’m telling him this, but it’s the truth.

A flicker of thought crosses his face before he says, “Tell me what you like, Erika.”

Oh great, so we’re doing this right now.

If a meteorite was to hit Earth, now would be a good time, universe.

“Tell me.” He tries to push open the door I’ve kept closed and never told anyone about.

Surprising me once more, he repositions me, making me straddle him. My shins squeak against the cream-colored leather of the sofa as my feet dangle off the edge.

“Tell me.” His impatience sharpens his tone, but his actions remain slow and deliberate. He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, his hungry eyes dilating with need.

That small touch alone helps Leon de-escalate my panic levels. I guess that’s what makes him a key negotiator.

Leon lays his hands on top of my bare thighs; my floaty shorts allow him to move his hands to slide inside the fabric. In tiny, hypnotic circles, he brushes his thumb across my skin.

“What are you doing?” I ask, wiggling in his lap, aligning my center with his.

“I’m showing you what it’s like to be with someone who cares about you. This is all for you, beautiful.”

Those big hands of his move further inside the fabric and cup my ass. He squeezes, making me rock my hips into his, sending a rush of arousal through my core.

My head drops forward, my long hair falling around his face in soft waves, concealing us from the rest of the world.

“Leon,” I call out his name when his cock thickens in his shorts and presses firmly against my clit, and I wish we were naked as pleasure weaves its way through my body, wanting more from him. “Don’t start what you can’t stop.”

“I have no plans of stopping, Erika.” His fingers dig into my ass, moving me back and forth, encouraging me to grind against him.

Panting and groaning, sounding like a man on the edge, he pulls away tortuously and asks, “Can I touch you?”

When I was in my twenties, what I wouldn’t have given to have him this way. I much prefer this older version of him, though. The one that’s mature, respectful, and asking for my consent.

“Yes.” I want this, so I sit up slightly to create space between us and give him better access, then lay my forehead against his and run my fingers into his hair at the back of his head. A billiondifferent thoughts race through my mind because this is the moment where he takes us beyond the horizon.

He accepts my invitation without hesitation, and I gasp when he hooks his fingers inside the sliver of fabric of lace that’s nestled between my ass cheeks, and he pulls it to the side. He slides a thick finger between the folds of my pussy, grazing my throbbing clit, which makes me arch my back.

Then, using all of his fingers, he moves them back and forth, teasing me, working me, and taking his time to awaken my senses, shooting pleasure through my center, my nipples tightening to heavy peaks.

His touch is spellbinding, and I grind against his fingers, wanting him to go faster.

The air becomes heated and swirls around us as my need to come burns deep and achy in my core, which I never would have believed could build so fast.

Unable to control my reaction, I throw my head back when he pushes one of his thick fingers inside of me.

“You’re soaked, beautiful.”