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CHAPTER 68: THE FEAST 1
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2026-03-18 02:34:00Léon
The water lost its warmth long ago, becoming tepid, then almost cool, without me moving. She is still on me, her weight become a soft thing, an anesthetic against the inner turmoil. Her breath is steady against my neck. Has she fallen asleep? Fainted from pleasure and fatigue? I absently stroke the spinal column that undulates beneath her smooth skin, down to the curve of her buttocks. She shudders, an infinitesimal movement, proof that she is still here, in l
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CéliaI shake my head, mute, eyes full of tears of shame and need. I don't want to say it. Saying it means admitting it. Signing a new pact, far worse than my father's.His finger presses, firmer. A slow, implacable circle. The sensation is unbearable. A mix of sharp pain and pleasure so deep it becomes a suffering. My thighs close, trapping his hand. I writhe, but it's to offer myself, not to flee."Say… that… you are… mine."Each word is punctuated by a more insistent pressure. The world shrinks to this burning point of contact. To his gaze piercing me. To the smell of us, of sex and possession, filling my lungs.I lose. I lose everything."I am yours," I sob, the words torn from the depths of my being.A smile, slow, cruel, beautiful enough to break your soul, stretches his lips."Entirely.""Entirely.""Forever."I falter. Forever? The echo of these words resona
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CéliaConsciousness returns in waves. First, the sensation of heavy warmth along my back. An arm, solid as an iron beam, barring my waist, pinning me against a broad, motionless chest. The warmth. His. It permeates the air, the leather of the couch, my own skin. I am immersed in his warmth.Then, the memories. Not images, at first. Sensations. The cold, implacable impact of the window against my forehead, my palms. The inferno of his mouth, devouring, expert, merciless. The taste of power yielded. The brutal possession, that invasion that seemed less to take me than to assert an ancestral right. The pounding that shattered everything I thought I was, everything I thought I could endure. And finally, that fall. That joint fall, a leap into the void with hands tied, which pulverized my soul and my flesh into a single mute explosion.I tremble, internally. A deep, cellular trembling, as if every part of me had been shaken, rearranged, and hasn'
Spicy Hot CHAPTER 74 : THE CONSUMMATION 2
LéonMy mouth finds her, full, open, burning. I taste her, truly, for the first time. Without barrier. Her pure, complex, intoxicating essence. I drink her. My tongue explores every fold, every secret recess, finds the nerve center, pulsing, and lingers there with delicate cruelty. I eat her. As one consumes an offering. With devotion and voracity.Her body arches, bows against the cold glass. Her cries are no longer stifled. They resonate in the empty penthouse, hoarse sobs, incoherent pleas. She speaks. She says my name, curses, prayers. Her legs tremble, close around my head, imprisoning me. I am lost in the darkness, in the taste, in the scent of her. The vibration within me reaches a crescendo, transforms into a dull roar that seems to come from the earth itself.She explodes. Violent, sudden. A spasm that shakes her entire body, a piercing cry that shatters against the windows. Her taste changes, becomes deeper, saltier. I support her,
Spicy Hot CHAPTER 73 : THE CONSUMMATION 1
LéonHer touch on my cheek is the spark that ignites the powder. Restraint, that iron dam I built all day, breaks at once. Not into pieces, but into a liquid, burning flood that inundates every vein, every pore.I don't kiss her. I seize her.My hands close around her arms, beneath the fine silk of her dress, and I press her against the glass wall. A muffled impact. Her gasp bursts against my face, warm, wine-scented. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but with a wild surprise, immediately covered by a dark flame that answers mine. She sees. She sees the unleashed animal. And she doesn't retreat.— Léon...My name in her mouth is a challenge, a plea, an incantation. I barely hear it. The buzzing in my ears is too loud. It is the sound of this hunger, become a howl.I bury my face in the hollow of her neck, inhale her skin. The scent of the restaurant, of the night, fades, replaced by her fundamental essence, the o
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LéonThe silence is thick, inhabited only by the slow, deep breath she exhales beside me. An exhausted breath. Conquered. Her body, abandoned on the crumpled leather, bears the map of my hands, my mouth. Bruises are forming on her hips, the curve of her waist. Stanzas written in red on her milky skin. My poem.I stare at the ceiling, the white veins of the exposed concrete. The city, below, blinks with its thousand indifferent lights. It doesn't know. It doesn't know that the universe has just recentered, reduced itself to this room, to this smell, to this feminine body collapsed against mine.Everything was so clear at the beginning. A calculation. A transaction. Her father, a pathetic gambler with hooked fingers and moist eyes, had signed a paper for me. His daughter, in exchange for the erasure of his debts. A clean deal. Her, the startled dove delivered to the wolf to settle an account. Me, the wolf, accepting delivery, anticipating a fe
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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
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