Instead, he prowls up my body, slow and deliberate, kissing every inch of exposed skin on his way.
My stomach. My ribs. Each breast, where he pauses to suck, lick, and tug, nipping at my piercings until I gasp.
Only then does he grip my thigh, pinning it high against my chest, and slams into me in one long, relentless thrust.
“Give me your hands,” he orders.
I give them. Both arms stretching above my head, fingers intertwining with his as he holds me down, utterly his.
He moves. Slowly. Deliberately. Possessively.
I rock my hips to meet him, every thrust dragging fire through me. My eyes flutter shut, but I force them open, needing to see him—this man above me, chest heaving, jaw tight, gaze locked on mine like he’s drowning in me.
With my leg pinned high, my hips tilt at the perfect angle, his pelvis grinding my clit each time he rolls into me.
And herolls. Not mere thrusts. Not just in, then out. Leo grinds, dips, drags, like he’s embedding himself deeper with each stroke. Like he wants to fuse us together.
“Tori,” he whispers, breaking me open with just my name.
“Leo,” I whisper back, our eyes locked.
His grip on my fingers tightens. I squeeze back, needing the anchor.
“Do you love me?” His voice cracks with need, raw and certain all at once.
I smile through the heat and the ache.
“Is pi irrational?”
His laugh bursts free, breaking his rhythm, and then he kisses me hard, mouth bruising mine. When he pulls back, his whole face is alight.
I didn’t just answer his question. I answered it in his language.
“I fucking love you, woman.”
“I love you too, fuckboy.”
And then it’s chaos. His thrusts snap sharper, faster, harder. His grip on my thigh unrelenting. His hold on my hands like iron.
“Leo…” I pant, strung tight, seconds away from shattering.
“I know, baby.” His forehead presses to mine, his breath ragged.
And then his mouth is on my breast again, sucking my nipple deep, teeth clamping on my piercing?—
—and I shatter.
My core squeezes around his cock, pulling him deeper, refusing to let go. My free leg locks around his, binding us closer. My nails dig crescents into his skin, desperate to anchor myself as the orgasm rips through me, raw and unrelenting.
And the craziest part? The pleasure is so overwhelming, so brutal, so beyond words that instead of screaming, instead of crying out?—
I bite my tongue.
You read that right.
I bite down. As hard as I can.
Straight. Through. My. Fucking. Tongue.
