Meiling never disappointed him. It couldn’t be easy balancing while he held her by her legs, but she did it. Her hands slid up her body to cup her breasts, fingers tugging and pinching her nipples, head thrown back so that her long hair cascaded down like a shiny waterfall. She shuddered with pleasure, moaning a little, arching her back, her legs trembling.
Gedeon lodged the broad head of his cock in her entrance, and fire streaked up his spine at the roiling heat. He let her weight settle over him, so that she sheathed him slowly, her tight silken tunnel a vise gripping him with a ring of fire.
“Slow, Lotus. Ride slow.”
Slow might kill him, but the way she moved, the sight of her, was not only erotic but mesmerizing. Taking him apart inside. He slid his hands over her satin thighs, watching the two of them come together as he had so many other times. Like those other times, it seemed a miracle.
His eyelids felt heavy, hooded, dropping partway down as he took her in, realizing the jolting streaks of lightning arrowing up his body and settling in his groin weren’t the best because her pussy was the best—although he’d forever believe it was. It was the emotions welling up in him when he was like this. Choking him. Pure lust mixed with feelings so deep for her, he knew he’d never feel them for any other being on earth.
“Gedeon.” She whispered his name. Touched his face with gentle fingers. Reading him. Undoing him.
She loved him. She showed him that love in more ways than he could count. He showed her with his body. With his touch. When he was vulnerable to her—broken open and spilling out so she could see who he was. Good. Bad. Ugly. All of him loved her. He just couldn’t voice his emotions the way she did. He needed the words from her. Wished she would say them more often. It wasn’t fair because he never gave that to her. He gave her this . . .
Intensity. Surging into her with slow strokes. Watching the pleasure on her face. In her eyes. Hearing her breathing turn ragged. Panting. Picking up the pace with infinite care. Making them both wait, knowing the end would be so worth it. Reaching for her hands, threading their fingers together and looking into her eyes. Losing himself in her soul. In the helpless building desire and passion that crept into all that dark brown looking back at him. In the way she couldn’t keep focus no matter how hard she tried, when she ground down on him and whispered his name in her little breathy moans.
Her body clamped down hard on his, taking him with her the way she did, the friction burning over his cock like a white-hot lightning storm, cleansing him of sins and throwing him out into the universe, where he floated in the serenity of absolute peace for a time. Meiling collapsed over him, her body folding over his so she lay on his chest, his cock still in her while they just breathed together.
Gedeon loved their morning sex. This might be in the afternoon, but it was still wake-up sex. He buried his hands in her hair and breathed their combined scents in. “You good, Lotus? I’m still ready to go another round.”
“I’m good. Another round would make me too sore to accommodate you when Whisper starts to rise again.”
He stroked his hand down her hair. She was always honest with him. She needed to be. Leopard heat was brutal, there was no doubt about it. His cock refused to relax all the way, not without the rougher sex or more frequent times per day.
She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes soft. “Take a shower with me. I can take care of you.”
That was his woman. Knowing. Generous. Always thinking of him, not herself.
* * *
* * *
THE drive leading to the Diaz estate was lined with sweeping trees. The road was paved and very well maintained. Guards patrolled the grounds with dogs. The guards were armed, and they regarded the little utility vehicle Gedeon drove with suspicion, but no one made a move to intercept or stop them once they had passed the initial inspection at the front gate.
Lubin and Miguel were expecting them. They were “guests,” and when Lubin Diaz declared someone his guest, no one dared to say otherwise. There was a roundabout at the front door of the sprawling two-story mansion. A long balcony overlooked the first story, providing shade for the wide verandah wrapping around the lower story. The massive front door was a good sixteen feet tall, made of thick oak and framed with black rounds of oak. The walls were thick and the glass inside the windows was thick.