Maybe it was more for me. Maybe this was my lesson in patience.
My tongue darted out, touching her swollen clit, and Leda’s body shifted in response. “Lucas,” she groaned, rotating her hips and begging for more. “Please.”
I felt my own excitement beading on the head of my cock as her sultry voice urged me on, but I kept myself in check. Not yet. Not until I had her trembling. My tongue probed and teased, teasing her apart as I explored her depths. I lost myself in her wet musk, in her warm scent, and in the softness of her quivering thighs around my ears.
I feasted on her, pressing my lips against her wetness so that I would drink in every drop of her nectar. Her body trembled as I pulled back, and I heard a slight whimper of need. I teased her to the edge of pleasure and pulled back, letting her come down just enough before I resumed.
In some ways, it was revenge for what she did to me before she went behind my back. In others, it was a reward for her taking the initiative. She proved herself to be my equal. Not just a Mafia princess, but a queen.
“Lucas.” She gasped again as I drew slow torturous circles around her clit. My rough fingers felt the slight tremor buzzing beneath them as her soft thighs struggled against my grip.
I rested my forehead on her thigh, letting her need take a backseat for a little while. I wanted to control her release so it would be one that she never forgot.
Once more, I brought her higher only to pull back at the final moment. Her breath evened and I kissed my way down her thighs until I felt her pulse—hot and rising—pressed against my lips. My ears rang at the excitement rising between us. Her core was being pulled tighter and tighter, but never at the delicious moment of release. I would deny her that again and again. Her taste—something that could only be described as Leda—flooded my mouth.
She said something unintelligible when I inserted a finger into her tight canal, my tongue doing laps on her swollen nub. When I withdrew again, she begged.
“Lucas,” she panted, her body quivering before me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m waiting,” I murmured, placing a kiss on her inner thigh. She knew what I wanted from her, and until I got it, she was going to be in this permanent state of delicious torture.
And I would go on suffering, knowing that the moment I touched her warmth, I would lose it.
Right now, it was safe to keep my cock pressed to the covers and try not to think about how fucking nice it was to be inside her. I had done this more times than I cared to count, relentlessly teasing one woman after another until they were thrashing about on the bed, begging for release. But I’ve always left those memories to a far recess of my mind—refusing to remember a single one.
But Leda was different. I didn’t want to forget a single thing. I wanted to remember every moment with her. To memorize the shape of her curves, the soft whimpers passing between her lips, and her unforgettable scent.
That was the difference, I realized, between fucking and making love.
I started again, this time stretching her with two fingers that I moved in sync with my tongue, feeling her walls clench around them. She was so close, every nerve ending likely on edge for when I would stop again, and she would be denied her orgasm.
“Lucas…”
This time, I decided she and I had been tortured enough. My tongue was like a madman on her clit, and she squirmed under my touch.
“Lucas, please…”
That was what I wanted to hear.
I made a vow to myself right then and there to always give her these feelings, to never hold back on Leda when it came to our time in the bed.
“Yes, Lucas, yes.”
We hadn’t so far, but the years could change us, could pull us apart, and I never wanted to have that happen.
“Yes. Yes! YES!”
She was mine.