Good God, this man.
He buries his face into my pussy, licking, sucking, kissing, using the lace of my panties as added friction against my most sensitive parts.
He finds my clit, sucks it into his mouth—fabric and all—and then bites, and I swear I’m about to explode. My hips jerk, my back arches, a helpless sound tears from my throat.
“Play with your piercings,” he growls, surfacing for a second before burying himself in me again.
I do as I’m told. My hands fly to my breasts, tugging at the silver bars.
Each pull shoots sparks down my body, lightning bolts that converge on my clit where his mouth is working me through the fabric.
It’s too much. It’s not enough. I don’t know how my body can survive both sensations at once, but I don’t want it to stop.
Leo hasn’t even pressed a finger inside me yet and I’m close, so close.
My fingers flick and twist at my nipples, my eyes locked on his as his own gaze follows the motion, hunger burning in him. He watches the way my hips jolt every time I tug, watches the way I can’t keep still under him.
Then he bites down on the crotch of my underwear, tugs back, and—snap.
The wet, elastic fabric snaps against my clit at the exact moment I pull on my piercings, and the double jolt detonates inside me. I scream, the sound ripped from somewhere primal.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Every nerve ending in my body lights up at once. My muscles seize and release, a violent quake I can’t control. I’m shaking, trembling, vibrating apart. My core pulses so hard I think I might break.
Back arched, body taut, I’m not even flat on the bed again before Leo slides two fingers into me, thrusting deep as his mouth latches onto my breast. His tongue circles my piercing, his teeth tug, and the overload is unbearable.
“Leo,” I gasp, every syllable shattered.
“Tell me,” he says, curling his fingers inside me, grinding his palm against my clit. His voice is gravel, wrecked with want.
I ride his hand shamelessly, hips grinding down, chasing every ounce of sensation. I’m still coming, still gasping, and it feels endless.
“More,” I whisper—no, beg. It doesn’t sound like me. It sounds like someone stripped bare, someone who has never wanted more in her life.
His laugh is low and wrecked, undone by my plea. He kisses me, tongue tangling with mine, and then I’m spiraling again, another climax ripping through me on his fingers.
I arch. I tremble. My hands clutch his hair like an anchor, because if I let go, I’ll float away.
Heslows our kiss, easing me down, and slides his hand from between my legs. His eyes never leave mine as he lifts those two fingers and slides them into his mouth. His lids flutter, his tongue curling, and he groans—lost in the taste of me.
I watch, spellbound, as he savors every drop.
When his fingers leave his mouth, his smirk is ravenous. He’s had a taste, but it isn’t enough.
I know it. He knows it.
“My cock is jealous, Victoria,” he rasps, dragging his hand down my stomach until he hooks the string of my panties.
Even wrecked and trembling, I find my voice. “We can’t have that.”
“No,” he agrees, pulling the panties down my legs and over each foot, tossing them aside. He reaches for the drawer, pulls a condom, and rolls it on with practiced ease.
“We can’t have that.”
“I thought you said you were going to take those off with your teeth?” I nod toward the discarded scrap of lace. My grin is weak, but it’s there.
Leo doesn’t answer.
