LOGINCélia
His lips on my skin are a devouring and gentle fire. When he kisses the inside of my knees, a flash of pleasure so sharp, so unexpected, pierces through me. A moan escapes my throat. His hands, wide and warm, travel up my thighs, pushing aside the panels of my slip. The cool air of the room on my bare skin makes me shiver, but the heat of his mouth, his hands, is far more intense.
He looks up at me, his gray ey
Kassian LéonShe pulls back a little, looks at me.— You think I don't know who you are?— You know what I've shown you.— I know what you are. I know how you protected me. I know how you keep your promises. I know how you are with the staff, with the horses, with this house. I know how you let me in. I know what that cost you.— You don't know everything.— Then tell me.I look away. The fire crackles. The wood burns.— I'm not good at this, I say.— At what?— At being loved.She puts her hand on my cheek, forces my gaze.— Learn.— What if I can't?— I'll teach you.— What if I disappoint you?— I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm asking you to be here.— I'm here.— Then that's all that matters.I look at her. This woman. This woman who
Kassian LéonI make breakfast like an automaton, mechanical gestures, my mind elsewhere. She's sitting at the kitchen counter, her bare feet swinging, my sweater hiding her hands. She's watching me. She's not saying anything. She's watching me, and that's already everything.— Do you want eggs? I ask.— I want what you want.— That means eggs.She laughs, that light laugh that grips my guts.— Then eggs.I crack the eggs into the pan, they sizzle, the smell of cooking fills the kitchen. The coffee is ready, I pour her a cup, place it in front of her. Her fingers brush mine when she takes the cup.— Thank you.— You're welcome.She takes a sip, closes her eyes, sighs.— Your coffee is better than mine.— It's the same coffee.— No, it's because you make it.I stop cooking, look at her. She's there, in my kitchen,
Kassian LéonI don't wait. I lift her, her legs wrap around my waist, her back against the marble wall. It's cool against her hot skin, I feel her shiver. Then I enter her, in one thrust, deep, perfect.She cries out. A short cry, muffled by my mouth on hers. I kiss her deeply, as I move inside her, as the water hits us, streams between our bodies, unites us even more.It's different from earlier. More animal, more urgent. The wall is cold, the water is hot, she is burning. She tightens around me, squeezes, drains me. Her nails in my shoulders, her moans in my mouth, her legs trembling around me.— I love you, she whispers.The words cut through the noise of the water, cut through the noise of our bodies, cut through everything. I hear them. I receive them. I keep them.I don't answer. I can't. Not yet. But I move harder, faster, deeper. I look into her eyes, I watch her come, I watch her shatter against me. And I
Kassian LéonI slow down. Just enough to make her moan in frustration, to make her move under me, seeking more, seeking better.— No, I say. Wait for me.— I can't...— Yes. Wait for me. We go together.I press my forehead against hers. My eyes in hers. My breath mingled with hers. I move, slow, deep, perfect. I feel the tension building in her, feel it building in me, both climbing, approaching the edge.— Now, I say. Now.The explosion is simultaneous. She cries my name, a stifled, broken cry. I groan hers, voice hoarse, strangled. Our bodies tense, twist, empty into each other. And I don't close my eyes. I don't want to miss a second of that face, that moment, that perfection.---Long after. Too long. A tiny eternity.She lies on me, her weight keeping me grounded, her chaotic breath against my neck. My fingers travel up her spine, counting each vertebra, each secre
Kassian LéonDawn is a blade of grey light cutting through the darkness, slipping between the curtains to shatter against her bare shoulder. I watch her. That's all I do. For how long now? An hour? Two? Sleep has fled me like a coward, leaving me alone with the sound of her breathing, the weight of her head on my chest, the warmth of her skin against mine.She sleeps. Deeply. Her lips are slightly parted, her lashes form two perfect crescents on her cheeks, her hair is a dark mess on the white pillow. She is beautiful. With a beauty that hurts, that tightens the throat, that burns behind the eyes.Everything.The word still echoes in my head. I said it. I let it out. I hadn't planned it, calculated it, controlled it. It came, simply, like a truth that could no longer be silenced.She said same for me.I close my eyes. Breathe. Her scent overwhelms me, mixed with that of the night, of us. I should sleep. I should enjoy th
Kassian LéonIn my white shirt, the one that costs a fortune, the one tailored for my shoulders. On her, it hangs, floats, baring one shoulder. Her hair is up in a messy bun. She's holding a coffee cup. She's smiling at the camera.Below it, a message: You were right. The garden is beautiful. I'm waiting for you.I almost spit out my water.— Alles in Ordnung, Herr Kassian?— Perfectly.I put the phone away. I finish the lunch. I think only of her.Five o'clock. Last meeting.I hold on. I hold on because I'm built for this, because I've constructed myself for this, because nothing and no one has ever made me deviate from my path. I hold on, but it's an effort.Each minute is an hour. Each hour is a day.I want to go home. I want to open the door. I want to see her in my shirt, in my garden, in my life.Uncertainty is a torture I inflict on myself voluntarily. I haven't calle
I lean in, my breath hot on his cheek.“But tonight, Elara, it’s not just what you want that matters. That's what I decide. And what Isadora decides.I stand up, my gaze turning to Isadora. She nods slightly, encouraging me. The hardest part starts now. It's no longer just about the flesh.“Get up,
ElaraThe day filters through the shutters, casting dusty rays of light on the floor of my room. I am home. Alone. The silence is a heavy, suffocating presence after the noises of last night—the breaths, the whispers, the screams.I get up from the bed, my sore muscles protesting with every movemen
KaelI drag her to the bed, throwing her on it unceremoniously. She landed on her back, her dress crumpling around her. I throw myself at her, ignoring the discomfort of her clothes, my body seeking direct contact with her skin. I tear the silk, my fingers clawing, ripping, revealing. Her breasts a
Elara The reality melts into the taste of him, into the stifling pressure deep in my throat. My tears flow, silent, salting my submission. Every thrust of his hips is a calculated suffocation, a reminder of my place. The sound of his climax, the low, satisfied grunts escaping him, is the only anch







