“That’s it,” Leo encourages, his voice rough in my ear. “Take what you need.”
His other hand is still playing with my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, and the dual sensation is driving me crazy. Everything feels heightened—every touch, every sound, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure through me.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Leo says, his hips moving in that perfect rhythm. “Taking me so well, making those sounds I love.”
I reach back and grip his hip, needing to touch him and feel the flex of his muscles as he moves inside me. “Harder,” I breathe. “Please?—”
“No,” he says, but his voice is gentle. “Slow. I want to feel every second of this.”
He keeps that slow, deep pace, his fingers working my clit in circles that match his thrusts. I’m building toward another orgasm, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
“I can feel you getting close,” Leo murmurs against my neck. “You’re tightening around me.”
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, my whole body tensing. “Right there, don’t?—”
“I’ve got you,” Leo says, and he speeds up his fingers just slightly while maintaining those deep, slow thrusts. “Come for me, Emma. I want to feel it.”
It doesn’t take much more. The orgasm rolls through me in waves, making me cry out his name, my muscles clenching around him. Leo groans and his thrusts get faster, harder, chasing his own release. When he comes, he groans loudly and wraps his arms tight around me, holding me against him like he never wants to let go.
For a long moment we just stay like that, both breathing hard, our bodies still joined. Leo’s hand is gentle now, stroking my stomach and hip while he presses soft kisses to my shoulder.
“We should get up,” I say eventually, even though I don’t want to move.
“Should we?” Leo hums. “Or we could stay in bed all day.”
“Tempting,” I admit, because it really is. “But don’t you have meetings or crime lord things to do?”
Leo huffs a laugh against my neck and slowly pulls out of me. I immediately miss the fullness and connection, but he pulls me to face him and kisses me properly. It’s slow and deep and lazy.
“Crime lord things,” he repeats when he pulls back, his eyes warm with amusement. “Is that the technical term?”
“It is now.” I grin at him.
Leo’s expression softens as he looks at me, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “Shower?”
“Please,” I say, because I can already feel his release starting to leak out of me. “I’m a mess.”
“Mm, yes, but you’re my mess,” Leo says cheekily, but he’s already getting out of bed and pulling me with him to the bathroom.
Leo’s shower is massive. It’s one of those walk-in ones with multiple shower heads and enough space for at least four people. The first time I saw it, I made a joke about how it was very “mob boss with too much money,” and Leo had just smirked and pulled me inside to show me exactly why it was so large.
Now, as Leo turns on the water and adjusts the temperature, I take a moment to just look at him.
He’s beautiful. I know men aren’t supposed to be called beautiful, but there’s no other word for it. Leo naked is a work of art with lean muscle and golden skin, every line of him perfectly proportioned. His shoulders are broad, tapering down to a narrow waist and hips that make my mouth water. His ass is firm and perfect, and I’ve spent enough time gripping it while he’s inside me to know exactly how it feels under my hands.
When he turns to face me, pulling me toward the water, I let my eyes travel over him slowly. His chest is defined without being overly muscular, with a light dusting of dark hair that trails down his stomach. I force my eyes back up before I get too distracted.
Water streams over Leo’s body, running down the planes of his chest, following the cut of his abs, and I watch a droplet slide from his collarbone down the center of his torso like I’m mesmerized. His dark hair is plastered to his head, water dripping from the ends. The water makes his skin gleam, highlighting every muscle, every scar, every perfect inch of him.
“See something interesting?” Leo asks, amusement in his voice, and I drag my eyes back up to his face.
“You,” I reply honestly. “You’re gorgeous.”
Leo’s eyes darken slightly at the compliment, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. “I hate when you catch me off guard like that,” he says, his voice rougher than it was a moment ago as he pulls me to him.
I let him arrange me where he wants me. He dips my hair back to get it wet and then he works shampoo through it with strong, capable fingers. But I can’t stop watching the way his biceps flex when he raises his arms, how water runs in rivulets down his chest, and how his stomach muscles tighten when I run my fingers over them.
Leo’s hands slide down my body, ostensibly to wash me but lingers in places that make my breath catch. Over my breasts, down my ribs, across my hips. When his soapy hands slide between my thighs, I gasp.