Raine - Food's Ready

Leon peels the hoodie slowly over my head, his knuckles brushing my ribs lazily. The movement drags my shirt upward briefly, exposing more skin, and his jaw tightens visibly when he sees it.

God, the way this man looks at me should be illegal.

“You own any clothes that aren’t falling apart?” he mutters.

“Too busy being poor to care.” Every word is breathy and dripping in need.

A rough huff of amusement leaves him before he drops to a crouch in front of me.

Every particle of oxygen whooshes from my lungs as I look down on his huge frame beneath me. He's so close to my dripping pussy, I am mentally begging him to just slip my leggings down and–

His hands slide to my sneakers instead.

“You’re soaked through.”

He means from the rain, but isn't wrong.

Warm fingers wrap round my ankle while he unties my shoe, and the intimacy of it makes my stomach twist violently. A man like Leon Marcello should not be kneeling in front of me taking off my shoes with those huge tattooed hands.

It feels bizarrely filthy, more intimate than the kiss, especially when his gaze lifts briefly up my body while his hand still circles my ankle.

More heat floods straight between my thighs until I'm a writing mess inside on the verge of begging him to fuck me.

By the time both shoes are gone, I can barely breathe properly anymore.

“Bath’s already ran,” he says, standing to full height, crowding me.

“You had it prepared?”

“I followed you for years, Bunny. You think I’m not prepared now you're in my house?”

Jesus Christ.

He guides me toward the bathroom with one hand against my lower back again, and the warmth of it follows me all the way inside.

Steam curls through the massive marble room while deep black tiles gleam beneath soft golden lighting. Now I'm up close, I see the bath is in fact a small pool sunken into the floor, already filled with clear steaming water that smells faintly of cedar and something expensive that I have never had the pleasure of smelling before.

I stop dead when I realise Leon followed me inside.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re shaking.”

“I can undress myself.”

His eyes drag slowly over me.

“I know.”

The way he says it nearly melts my spine. He steps closer and reaches for the button of my jeans slowly enough that I could stop him.

I don’t.

His knuckles brush my stomach as he undoes them, rough fingers sliding beneath the waistband just enough to drag them down my hips. My entire body is alight to his touch, painfully aware that no one man has ever touched me like this. With reverence.

Leon’s breathing deepens while his eyes remain fixed on every inch of exposed skin appearing beneath his hands. He places my hand on his shoulder, huge muscles there strained and bunched, and keeps his eyes on my feet as he slides my panties to the floor and waits for me to step out of them, throwing them to the corner of the room with the rest of my filthy clothes.

As he stands I quickly pull off my bralet and chuck it in the pile so he doesn't need to touch me again.

His eyes are no longer trained on the floor. His pupils are so wide no colour remains, his nostrils are flared as he darts his gaze this way and that taking in every inch of my naked skin now on display for him.

I have years of ingrained dirt and grime, too chubby with stretch marks that mar almost every surface, stomach pouch hanging too low, I haven't had the luxury of a razor in a long time. The shame of how I must look to him rots me from the inside.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly.

The sound wrecks me. He goes to take a step, fingers twitching, but stops right before we tip over the line, his energy spills into the steamy room letting it be known that he’s hanging onto control by a thread.

“Get in the bath,” he says roughly.

I step into the water on shaky legs, nearly moaning the second the heat wraps around me.

Heaven.

Actual heaven.

For the first time in years, my body starts to unclench properly. As I sink down, the warmth starts to ease aches I forgot I even had while steam curls around me soft and safe. I sink lower, eyes closing for just a second.

When I open them again, Leon is still standing there watching me. Jaw locked and working, that same terrifying focus that never seems to dissipate.

His shirt strains across his chest as he heaves in breathes. Dark tattoos disappear beneath rolled sleeves. And lower…

His cock tents visibly against his slacks now. Huge and mouth wateringly thick, my face burns when I realise I’m staring, I flick my eyes back to the water.

A slow dangerous grin spreads across his mouth.

“You keep looking at me like that, Bunny” he says softly, “and I’m gonna stop behaving myself.”

Then he turns and walks out, leaving me alone with my racing heart. The image of him hard because of me is burned permanently into my brain.

It's through sheer will that I don't curl my fingers into my pussy and make myself cum I'm so wound up. By the time I finally force myself out of the bath nearly an hour later, scrubbed and buffed, but not shaved as I couldn't find a single razor, fresh clothes wait folded neatly on the enormous bed in my designated room.

Soft black pyjama shorts, fluffy socks, an oversized T-shirt that smells faintly like him, and beside them a brand-new phone.

Only once have I held a smartphone, when one of the drug dealers left it at the motel and I handed it to reception.

Is that really mine?

The screen lights up, and I grab the thing as if its alive. I hold it up to look, and my face unlocks the screen. That's another weird thing added to the list.

One unread message waits on the screen, from Leon.

'Come to the den, food’s ready.'