Then suddenly, the warm press of his body is gone. I’m about to glance over my shoulder to see what’s happening when I feel his tongue on my pussy.
“F-fuck!” I splutter. He starts eating me out, moving with slow and gentle determination.
Water is still running in the bath, and the room is filling with steam, but all I can concentrate on is not collapsing beneath the onslaught of Leo’s tongue. My knees are going wobbly.
When my juices start dripping down my thighs, he stands up and fills me with one hard thrust. I cry out.
How could I have thought for even a second I’d had enough of this? Enough of him? How could I ever go back to a life without it?
He moves in slow thrusts at first, but I’m greedy for the animalistic way he took me last night.
“Harder, Leo,” I breathe. “Harder…”
“Say my name again, baby,” he growls, increasing the pace of his thrusts.
“Leo,” I breathe. “Leo, Leo, Leo.”
He fucks me right into yet another orgasm. I’ve lost count at this point, but we’ve long since crossed into double figures. I’m still coming down when he slides out of me.
“Turn around,” he growls.
I drop to my knees in front of him. He pumps his cock three times and then bathes my chest with his seed. There’s a lot of it for a man who came multiple times last night.
When he finishes, I sit back on my heels and stare up at him, exhausted and amazed.
“Now, get in the tub,” he orders again. “You’re going to need to soak a while before you feel human again.”
I frown. “You’re not getting in with me?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got work to do. A quick shower is all I need.”
I watch him get into the shower, still too weak to get up just yet. He’s halfway done by the time I manage to peel myself off the floor and climb into the bath.
But the moment the water hits my body, I moan. “Oh God, this feels good.”
Leo steps out of the shower and grabs his towel. I openly stare at his body while I sink below the surface of the water. His muscles are as craggy and hard as the mountains outside the window. Peaks and valleys, with veins winding through everywhere I look.
“You keep staring at me like that, and I’m going to come over there and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week.”
“For another week, you mean. I’m already down for the count.”
“I have a feeling you’ll be hungry for more in no time. God knows I am.”
“I’m surprised you have anything left.”
“Always, kukolka,” he says with a wink. “Oh, by the way—you have freedom of the house. Don’t waste it.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head and disappears into the bedroom.
I close my eyes and soak away my soreness. When I emerge from the tub almost forty minutes later, the water is cooling to room temperature and I feel invigorated.
I dress quickly and head downstairs just because I can. I haven’t been able to explore the cabin like I want to.
The interior is a combination of modern and rustic. I end up in a sitting room at the back of the cabin with huge paned windows that overlook the mountain vista. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves flank the view on either side.
I approach the window and admire the view. The sun is rising over the mountains in the east and drenching them in pure golden light. It’s the first time I’ve had the time or energy to really take it all in. I’ve been a little preoccupied grappling with an identity crisis, the reappearance of the mother who gave me up as a newborn, nearly miscarrying my son, and then fending off—well, failing at fending off, to be more accurate—the man who swore to track me to the ends of the earth. Gazing at the scenery hasn’t been high on my priority list.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
I whirl around and find Ariel sitting in one of the armchairs by the window. The furniture is so deep and cozy that she is almost hidden from view. I stare at her, trying to decide how I should feel. What I should say.
“I like to read in here,” she says by way of explanation, snapping a book shut.
I glance at the title. Anna Karenina.
“Have you read it?” she asks.
“No.”
“It’s a classic.”
“I’m aware.” It’s hard not to be short with her. It’s all I’ve known.
“Anyway,” she says, putting the book on the table beside the armchair. “I was just on my way out—”