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But then she writhed beneath him, flicking a little, so he pressed his mouth to hers, pushing her back into the pillow, and she whimpered, so he moved his arousal against her, promising, teasing, taunting, before drawing his mouth lower to her breasts.
They had obsessed him since that first night, when she’d accused him of breaking in, and his body had crushed hers; he’d felt her beneath him, every detail of every curve, and had relished in her contradictions to him, but for the first time, he properly devoted himself to her breasts, to understanding every inch of them, tasting, sucking, kissing, flicking, needling, until she was crying his name over and over, so close to orgasm, so desperate for him. He understood it, and yet he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
He wanted to take her, he wanted to lose himself to the powerful orgasm that was brewing in his balls, but first, he needed to feel this, all of this, to lavish her with adoration, and yes, to torment her with the wait for what they both wanted.
Never before had he been so invested. Sex was sex. A physical act. There was little to be gained from prolonging the inevitable, from postponing the pleasure, but everything was different with Mila. He was testing his strength, as though he understood that he would need to be strong, stronger than he’d ever been, with her.
He flicked the water from her breasts, catching it with his tongue, then traced a line lower, to the flatness of her stomach and finally, to the core of her womanhood. His hands moved to grip her thighs, separating them, his fingers pressing hard to the flesh there, his eyes feasting on her, desperate to see her like this, before he tasted her, groaning against her sex as she quivered, then bucked hard, trying to move legs that were imprisoned by his steady, sure grip.
But he was relentless, until she came against his mouth and he held himself there, delighting in the shift of her muscles, her quivering, pleasure cresting inside him like a blade. With a darkly uttered curse, he moved swiftly then, finally, finally consenting to put his own body from its state of torment, but taking her in one fast, urgent motion, driven by passions and needs that were beyond sense and familiarity.
Control was nonexistent. They were animals, passion their master, pleasure their sole objective.
They moved as one; every shift of his body, every thrust was echoed by a lifting of her hips, a desperate smacking together of their thighs as he drove into her and she sought him, as he pushed deeper, harder, than he’d known possible, and then, his mouth was on her breast, his teeth clamping her nipple and she exploded, her muscles so tight around him that he lost any ability to hold on; he was falling, with her at his side, their cries mingled, their bodies covered in shower water and sweat, cries of sweet release filling the room.
It was interminable.
Leonidas couldn’t have said how long his orgasm lasted, only that it shook him to the center of his being, that he’d never known anything like it.
He stared down at her, trying to make sense of the world again, to piece it back together, even when he doubted he’d ever be able to do such a thing.
It went way beyond logic.
He pulled away, both hating the space and knowing he needed it at the same time, but when he looked at her beautiful body, pink where his stubble had dragged across her skin, where his hands had gripped her, where his mouth had moved, he felt something important change inside of him. He reached down, untying her wrists and a moment later, was lifting her once more, carrying her against his chest.
“What are you doing?” She asked, eyes roaming his face as though she too was desperate to understand what had happened.
“Taking you to bed.”
“We were in bed.”
“Yours is now half full of water,” he pointed out.
She didn’t argue and he was glad. It was easier for her to sleep in his room, with him. Why not a guest room, of which the villa boasted dozens? He couldn’t say. But he wanted her with him, close by, all night long.
Only when she was nuzzled against him, and his arm was weighted across her chest like a band, did he sleep, and it was a sleep flooded with dreams of Mila…
