Page 77 of The Final Faceoff
And then I shatter.
I’m still trembling, my body wracked with aftershocks as I sink into the mattress, boneless, spent. He lingers between my thighs, pressing soft kisses over my skin, trailing them up the inside of my legs, his hands smoothing over me like he’s calming me down, bringing me back to him.
A soft hum rumbles from his chest as he drags his tongue over me, slow, deliberate. Cleaning me, savoring me.
I twitch, oversensitive, but he doesn’t stop. He flattens his tongue, licking me through the remnants of my release, his hands keeping my thighs open as he takes his time, gentle now, reverent.
“Shh,” he soothes, pressing a final kiss to my clit before pulling back, his voice a quiet murmur against my skin. “Just taking care of what’s mine.”
Mine.
The wordminesettles deep, somewhere inside me I don’t want to name.
He shifts, moving up my body, pressing his weight over me like a grounding force. His lips brush my jaw, my cheek, my temple, leaving warmth in their wake.
“You did so good for me,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I barely process being lifted into his arms, carried effortlessly through the room toward his private bathroom. The space is dimly lit, warm, filled with the faint scent of cedar and bergamot. He sets me down on a sleek wooden bench near the tub, his hands lingering on my thighs as he kneels in front of me, his eyes dark, unreadable.
“Stay here,” he orders gently, pressing a kiss to my knee before rising.
I watch as he turns the faucets, adjusting the water until steam curls into the air. He moves with practiced ease, grabbing a glass container of something dark gold, pouring it under the stream, making the water cloud with soft, silky bubbles. Then, a few drops from another bottle, something floral and rich, scenting the air like something decadent.
But my attention drifts from his hands to him.
When his thumbs hook into the band of his gray sweatpants, and he shoves them down. My breath catches. He’s big. Thick, long, heavy between his legs, his cock hanging full and tempting. My cunt clenches at the sight, need blooming in my core, my thighs pressing together without thought. He’s so hard already, a bead of precum gathering at the flushed tip, and suddenly, I don’t feel tired at all.
He notices.
A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he takes a step closer, his cock swaying slightly with the movement. His hands slide up my thighs, parting them with ease, his touch teasing as he watches me fight my own hunger.
“Already needy again?” His voice is thick, dark, filled with wicked amusement. His fingers ghost over the slick heat between my legs, barely touching, just enough to make me gasp. “Didn’t I just fuck you dumb, sweetheart?”
I shiver, gripping the edge of the bench, my body betraying me.
But he only hums in approval, stroking a knuckle along my slit, feeling how wet I already am again.
“This pretty little cunt doesn’t know when to quit, does she?” he murmurs, his tone almost pitying as he drags his fingers through my slickness, smearing it over my swollen clit. “Still begging for me to fill her up.”
A whimper escapes me, my hips jerking forward, seeking more.
He chuckles, low and dark, his fingers pulling away just as quickly as they came. “Not yet,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my parted lips, teasing, soft. “First, I’m going to take care of you. Then, I’m going to show you that I don’t have any transmittable diseases, and then . . . I’ll fill you up with my cum so you remember who you belong to.”
I’m still trembling when he finally lifts me, cradling me in his arms again as he steps into the tub. The warm water envelops my body as he lowers me in, settling me against the smooth porcelain. Before I can even think, he slides in right behind me, his long legs bracketing mine, his chest warm and solid against my back.
His arms come around me, his hands stroking over my stomach, my ribs, my thighs, everywhere. His mouth presses soft kisses to my damp shoulder, his voice a low, hushed promise.
“Let me take care of you, Hailey,” he murmurs, his fingers lacing with mine under the water, squeezing gently. “Let me love you.”
A soft exhale shudders through me. I don’t answer—I can’t.
But I lean into him.
And I let him.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Leif
