He gently guided her to lie back on the leather, removing her dress and panties with an efficiency that belied the reverence in his touch. Then he was over her, a golden god silhouetted by firelight, and his mouth was on her.
He took one hardened peak into the heat of his mouth, and Camille cried out, her back arching off the couch. The sensation was exquisite—the slick stroke of his tongue, the gentle suction, the occasional graze of teeth that made her gasp. He lavished attention on one breast until she was mindless, then moved to the other, giving it the same devastating focus. Her fingers tangled in his blonde hair, not to guide him, but to anchor herself to the earth as he sent her spinning.
He soon kissed a blazing trail down her stomach, over the curve of her hip, until his broad shoulders settled between her thighs. The firelight gilded his hair as he looked up at her, his gaze a silent, heated question. In that look was a promise of pleasure, but also a request for permission. This alpha male, this powerful shifter, was waiting for her consent.
Her voice was a breathless thread. “Yes. Please.”
The first stroke of his tongue was a revelation. A shock of pure, undiluted pleasure that tore a sharp cry from her lips. Then her mind simply… blurred. There was only sensation—therelentless, clever swirl of his tongue against her clit, the firm pressure of his lips, and the maddening, building rhythm that coiled tension deep in her belly.
“Oh god,” she chanted, her hips lifting off the couch of their own accord. “Right there… don’t stop.”
He didn’t. He added his fingers, sliding two inside her with a smooth thrust that made her see stars. He worked her with a devastating expertise, his tongue circling her clit while his fingers curled just so, hitting a spot inside her that made her entire body clench.
The pleasure coiled tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point. She was pleading, her thighs tightening around his head. The world narrowed to the point where his mouth and fingers met her body.
It finally shattered her. The orgasm ripped through her with a force she had never experienced, a fierce, convulsing wave that stole the air from her lungs and the strength from her bones. She cried out, a raw, unfiltered sound of release, her back bowing as the sensations rolled through her in endless, pulsing waves. He rode it with her, gentling his touch but not stopping, drawing out every last shudder until she collapsed back onto the leather, utterly spent and breathless.
The aftershocks of her climax were still shimmering through her nerve endings, but Camille refused to let the intensity fade. While her body still pulsed with lingering pleasure, her mind was fixed on one goal.
Him. Now.
Her fingers, trembling but determined, fumbled with the cool metal of his belt buckle. She didn’t have to fumble for long. Understanding her silent demand, Leander’s larger hands covered hers, his own movements swift and efficient. The belt hissed free, the clink of the buckle hitting the floor a sharp counterpoint to the crackle of the fire.
He took over, shoving his pants and boxers down his hips in a single, powerful motion, kicking them aside. Her breath caught. She’d felt his arousal through his clothes, but the sight of him, fully erect and magnificent, was something else entirely. He was large, thick, and beautifully formed, a testament to the powerful male he was. A fresh heat pooled low in her belly, her body clenching with a primal anticipation that felt completely foreign and utterly right.
A feral, approving light sparked in his green eyes. He braced himself above her, the hard planes of his chest brushing her sensitized nipples. She reached between them, her hand wrapping around his hard cock, guiding him to her slick, waiting entrance. The blunt head of him pressed against her, a promise of the delicious fullness to come.
He didn’t surge forward. He pushed in with a devastating, controlled slowness that made every single inch a revelation. Camille’s head fell back against the leather, a soft gasp escaping her lips as he filled her, stretching her in a way that was overwhelming and perfect. It was an exquisite invasion, a claiming that felt less like a takeover and more like a homecoming. When he was fully seated, buried to the hilt, he went still, his entire body rigid with restraint.
The feeling was immense and consuming. She felt utterly possessed, yet paradoxically, more in control of her own pleasure than she ever had been. She could feel the powerful thrum of his heartbeat where they were joined.
“God, you feel amazing,” she whispered, her inner muscles fluttering around him in helpless welcome.
“Just… give me a moment. Or this ends far too quickly.”
She appreciated the control, the care, but the needy ache inside her was building again. She rolled her hips experimentally, and a ragged groan tore from his throat.
“Move, Leander. Please,” she breathed, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Her plea shattered the last of his restraint. He withdrew almost completely, a sweet, torturous friction, before driving back into her with a deep, rolling thrust. He set a pace that was deliberate and deep, each stroke hitting a place inside her that made her see white. It was everything she’d ever imagined sex could be but never experienced—a perfect fusion of raw passion and profound connection, a conversation of bodies that required no words.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growled against her ear, his thrusts gaining power.
“Yes. More. Faster.”
Her command unleashed something in him. The careful, measured rhythm broke, transforming into something purely primal. His thrusts became harder and faster, driven by a force that felt ancient and untamed. She could feel the lion in him, just beneath the surface of his skin—the raw power, the fierce possessiveness, the wildness that his civilized exterior usually contained. It should have terrified her. Instead, it ignited her.
She met him thrust for thrust, her nails scoring his shoulders, her cries mingling with his guttural groans. The coil of tension inside her wound itself tighter and hotter. The world dissolved into sensation—the slap of skin, the scent of their joining, the sight of his face, fierce with concentration and pleasure above her.
“Leander… I’m going to…”
“Let go,” he ordered, his voice pure alpha command. “Come for me, Camille.”
It was the permission she didn’t know she needed. Her climax detonated, a supernova of pleasure that ripped through her with blinding force. Her back arched off the couch as she shattered, her inner walls convulsing around him in rhythmic,pulsing waves that seemed to go on forever. A raw, broken cry tore from her throat, the sound of a woman completely undone.
Her convulsions pushed him over the edge. With a final, powerful drive, he buried himself deep, his own release roaring through him. She felt the hot pulse of him inside her, a primitive, intimate claim that made her clench around him again in helpless response. His body shuddered violently above her, a low, animalistic sound rumbling from his chest, his forehead dropping to her shoulder.
For long moments, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the pop of the fire. Camille floated in a hazy, sated bliss. The thought—I just slept with my boss—floated through the contentment, but it held no panic and no regret. This hadn’t felt like sleeping with a boss. This had felt like connecting with her mate.
