“Leo…”
In reply he pushes deep and holds still. His skin glistening with sweat, and his chest vibrating as he pushes onto his elbows, looking down on me. He doesn’t say anything, but his face lowers to mine at the same time as his large hands twine in my hair and he licks the tears and their tracks from my skin.
The longer he stays still, the more I ache and it’s not the needy pain that drives me insane and that I want more of. This discomfort I want to end.
“Please,” I plead raggedly. “Please, don’t stop.”
“You wanted to burn, Buttercup.” Groaning, he pulls out again. “I told you I’d scorch you,” his gravelly voice is punctuated with his breaths.
“Please, Leo.” My arms sweep down the bed, and when I grasp his arse, I dig my nails into his hard flesh. “I need you…inside me.”
A tinge of embarrassment makes me cringe when my own words echo in my ears.
“This is how you make me feel.” Fingers winding in my hair, he pulls the lengths taut. “You make me ache and burn, like I’m on the brink of madness.”
Doesn’t he know I feel like that all the time?
Leo has made me feel like that every second since we first met, I have done nothing but yearn for him since that night. Since he first touched me, I have been burning for more of him. I have been dreaming of and imagining nothing but this. Agonising over all the things he could do to me. And even when I tried doing them to myself, they felt weak because I needed it to be him.
Tonguing the other side of my face, he licks up the rest of my tears, and when he’s satisfied that they’re all gone, he looks at me again. His nostrils flaring with his heaving breaths when I writhe beneath him.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
It’s a lacking answer because what I really want to tell him is to devour me. To make me hurt and burn. I want to tell him to mark me in every possible way. But I’ve never spoken those words before, and I’m scared that he’ll dismiss me. I’m embarrassed for myself, that I am so desperate for him.
“Not good enough,” he breathes out harshly. “Tell me exactly what you need.”
My throat swells and my muscles clench at the demanding tone of his words.
Brushing the tip of his nose on mine, he rasps, “My dick loves your tight, little cunt. It loves the way it clenches. It loves the way it bleeds for me. So tell me. What. You. Want.”
His words waft the flames inside me, incinerating my embarrassment.
“I want you to fuck me.” My voice is softer and breathier than the sexy I want it to be, but his shift between my thighs makes all that irrelevant.
“Good little girl,” growling, he thrusts inside me, bottoming out with a burst of aching heat. “Do you like the way my cock feels inside you?”
“Yes.” I cry as he grinds his pelvis, rubbing my clit with the hilt of his shaft.
“Yes, what?” He grits as he partially pulls out and then pushes back in, in teasing strokes that have my eyes rolling to the back of my head. “Look at me and tell me.”
Inching out again, my nails dig so hard into his muscles that I’m sure I break the skin.
“Tell me, Cassandra!”
When I don’t answer he plunges deep, his hands slipping down my face to my throat. He grinds and grinds until I’m trembling and all I want is for him to put me out of my misery.
“Yes,” I breathe, “I love the way your cock feels inside my pussy.”
“Look,” Cradling the back of my head, he tilts me up so I can see where our bodies are joined. “There’s really nothing to be shy about after this, is there?”
He’s studying me when I look up at him, and although I want to shudder at the thought of how we look right now, there’s something that makes me crave more of this intimacy between us.
Running my hands up over his ribs until they’re pressed to his erratic chest, I answer, “No.”
“Good, so when you want me to fuck you, you’ll ask me, and you won’t be unsure or embarrassed about it.”