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“Yep.” He grins and lowers his joggers to suit up. “Always be prepared.”
Then urging me onto his lap, with my back towards him, because he says he likes watching his cock move in and out of me, I ride him reverse cowgirl.
“Just like that, Sweet Pea, squeeze my dick,” he grits out and smacks my ass.
I yelp at the sting. “Again.”
He alternates between striking my bum and toying with my clit. The contrast sends me to a dark, thrilling place. When it comes to fucking, Leo is on the right side of aggressive. He knows how to balance that fine line between pleasure and pain, and trusting him with my body, allows me to explore this other side of me that likes it a little rough.
He talks dirty in a raspy voice that amps up my arousal, and the next time his palm strikes my bum cheek and his fingers roll over my clit, I come. The strength of the orgasm shocks my system with a rolling wave of sensations that has me crying out and clenching all around him.
“Jazz…fuck!” He grabs my waist and brings us both to the floor on our knees. He powers into my pulsating core, his flesh slamming against mine, the push-and-pull cadence of each plunge, staking its claim and setting fire to my tender nerves. Needing to get off again, I rub myself to another release as he races to his own. He shudders through the next set of spasms before he pulls out. I look over my shoulder, watching him roll off the condom and fist himself. As our eyes meet, he thrusts brutally into his palm, and shoots all over my ass.
A sweaty, sticky mess, we shower together. Leo runs his soapy hands all over me, soothing the marks from his love taps. Afterward, he takes me to bed and wraps his arms around me.
“Stay the night,” he murmurs.
“I don’t have any of my stuff here, and my first class is at eight.”
“I have an extra toothbrush and I’ll drive you home in the morning.” He slides over me. “I’m not ready to let you go, Jazz.”
Then, with aching tenderness, he makes love to me. The tempo, deliberately slow, his touch as gentle as silk feathers. I climax with a helpless sob, my defenses destroyed by the depth of emotion I’m beginning to feel for him.
CHAPTER 13
Jazz
LEO SLEPT IN THE RAW. It was awesome for me to have his warm body spooned against my back. But I wake up to the disappointment of being alone. At least it will give me a chance to gather myself.
I brush my teeth in the bathroom mirror and examine my reflection. Messy, tangled hair, red marks on my neck from his mouth, and pink-tinted cheeks from beard burn that matches the ones on my breasts and between my thighs. But it’s my heart that was marked the most last night.
“No regrets,” I whisper, and comb damp fingers through my hair.
I’m loath to put back on the red dress, but Leo’s joggers wouldn’t fit over my thighs and hips. I just hope I won’t see Mrs. Adamo and be forced to make that walk of shame.
When I’m halfway presentable, I take deep meditative breaths to bring myself into emotional alignment, and go in search of Leo. He’s at the stove, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt; his hair is sexily mussed from sleep and my hands. This isn’t the pulled together, well-coiffed Leo. Seeing him in hishome, first thing in the morning, making us breakfast like it’s the most natural thing in the world, makes me fall harder.
“Sleep well?” he asks.
“Very.”
“Me too.” He tilts my chin up to press a kiss to my nose and lips. “I hope scrambled egg whites are okay.”
I have to smile. Would it kill the man to add a yolk or a carb? “Sounds good, thanks.”
He pours me a glass of freshly made orange juice with ginger. It’s pretty good, but I prefer to start my mornings with a caramel latte topped with the foam Zay makes. But Leo seems to be a purist, except for the whiskey. I savour that nugget as a sign that he has at least one vice.
We eat at the counter since he doesn’t have a table or much of anything. Even on his buff-white walls, there are no paintings or family pictures anywhere. It would have been awkward to have seen Kai’s face in this environment.
“You’ve gone awfully quiet,” he observes. “Something on your mind?”
This would be a good time to tell him about Kai, but for some reason, I don’t. “You’re quite a minimalist,” I say, going back to my original thought.
“I have simple tastes.”
I consider his response as I chew a forkful of eggs that are fluffy and well-seasoned. “I’m not sure I’d say a man with a drawer full of sex toys has simple tastes.”
He slants a glance at me, seeming genuinely concerned. “I know I was rough last night and some of what we did was new for you.”
