As the Dawn Breaks (7 page)

Mercifully, the elevator dings with our salvation from this conversation, which is becoming more and more awkward with every word that flies from Mrs. Schumacher’s mouth. Leo tugs gently on my arm to let me know it’s our floor, and we both smile politely and say good evening as we step out of the car.

As soon as the doors close behind us, we look at each other and burst into howls of laughter. Tears of hilarity cascade down my face, and if I don’t get to his room soon, I may pee on myself. “Please…bathroom…now,” I manage to say in-between breaths, hoping he understands.

“Come on, love of my life,” he teases, leading me down the hallway towards his room. “I wouldn’t want you to
exude
anything other than your undying devotion for me.”

I’m still trying to contain my giggles as he unlocks the door and we crossover into a lavish suite decked out with every amenity possible, including a visible hot tub on the outdoor patio that overlooks the rolling waves of the ocean. The furnishings are all high-end pieces and the décor is impeccably matched; it’s nicer than some of the homes I’ve worked in, which is saying a great deal. “Wow, this is beautiful,” I murmur, more to myself than anything, wishing I could one day afford to stay in a place like this.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Leo’s deep voice drags me back from my momentary daydream. “The bathroom is right over there, and the fridge is stocked with whatever you’d like to drink. I’m going to order some snacks and desserts for us to enjoy while we watch the sunset out on the balcony.”

Half an hour later, Leo and I are relaxing out on his balcony, talking like we’re old friends who’ve done this thousands of times. He’s laid out on a chaise lounge, while I’m cozily seated in a padded patio chair barefooted, with my legs propped up on the wrought iron railing and a gigantic ice cream sundae resting on my belly. Leo changed out of his damp board shorts and into some dry khaki shorts, but still hasn’t put a shirt back on—not that I’m complaining whatsoever. His dessert of choice is a fruit and cheese tray, which we’ve already argued over whether or not it can truly be considered a dessert, but I conceded when he dipped one of his strawberries in my chocolate syrup and hand-fed it to me.

“Do you prefer the sunrise, or sunset?” he questions, completely changing the subject from our prior one revolving around favorite foods.

“I don’t know; I’ve never given it much thought,” I answer honestly. “What about you?”

“Even though sunset is the sexier answer—dreamy, romantic, when people fall in love under the stars, and all that jazz—I love when the dawn breaks. It reminds me each new day is exactly that, an opportunity for a new beginning, another chance to take control of your life and own it,” he replies poignantly. “Plus, if you really think about it, sharing a sunrise with someone is even more romantic than a sunset, because it usually means you’ve spent the entire night together, either talking or…” he chuckles lightly, “…well, either way, you’ve spent the entire night together enjoying each other’s company.”

His words are so profound, so heartfelt; I’m not quite sure what to say. After a few thoughtful moments, I ask, “Do you own your life?”

Leo stares out over the sandy shoreline, considering his answer as the sun says its final goodbye to the day before vanishing into the midnight blue waters. I’m afraid I’ve offended him with my question, but eventually, he swivels his neck around to fixate his gaze on me.

“I do now.”

Something about the way he says those three words sends a tingle shooting up my spine and goose bumps racing down my arms. I simply nod, afraid some crazy shit will fly out of my mouth if I open it.

“Come here, Trystan,” he requests, his eyes still locked on mine.

“I’m right here,” I whisper.

He spreads his legs, making an opening between them, and pats the chair. “No. Come
here
.”

Thank God I only have to take roughly two steps to get from my chair to, his because my legs are shaking so hard with anticipation of what’s about to happen I can barely walk. As gracefully as possible, which is the equivalent of an elephant on stilts, I position myself on his chair in-between his legs like he instructed. He loops his arms around my round belly and gently coaxes me back to recline on his very bare chest.

“Relax, beautiful,” he breathes into my ear.

I love the way he says
beautiful
like it’s my name. I want to freeze-frame this moment in time.

We lay like that for some time, watching as the little bit of remaining glow from the sun disappears and gives way to the deep navy sky. Without any clouds impeding the view, it seems the millions of stars in the heavens should be visible, but sadly, only a choice few are in sight due to the surrounding bright lights of civilization.

Leo’s fingertips begin softly tracing designs across my swollen abdomen, the movement so lazily dreamy I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing it. Nonetheless, it feels natural and protective, and I like it
way
more than I should.

“So you leave tomorrow?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I need to hear him confirm it to remind me this feeling will be short-lived.

He grunts with frustration and tilts his head forward slightly, intimately rubbing his nose up and down the length of my ear. “Yeah, but I don’t want to worry about that right now, and I told you to relax.”

A whimper escapes me as he nibbles a path from my neck to my shoulder, and the internal battle I haven’t had to fight in several months commences. If I allow this to go much further, I’m going to hit the point of no return, and there is no cage that can contain my raging hormones once I’m there.

I know the score; I’ve known it from the very beginning, and yet I decided to play anyway, thinking it was a pipe dream he’d want anything to do with me in this sense. But now, here I sit—in his lap with his hot, wet mouth leaving a blazing trail of nips and kisses across my smooth skin as his fingers slowly draw loopty-loops on the part of my body I consider to be my number one male turn-off.

It’s decision time, and whatever I decide, I need to own it.

“You’re still not relaxing,” he murmurs into my hairline. “I can feel your jaw clenching over and over again, and your shoulders are way too tight.”

“You’re driving me crazy,” I explain.

“Crazy how?”

“I don’t know whether to spin around and fuck you on this chair, or to leave now and save myself the tiny amount of remaining dignity I still have.” I can’t believe I just admitted that aloud.

My admission is greeted with silence, broken only by long, even, purposeful successions of inhaling and exhaling…and if I’m not mistaken, a slight jolt against my bum pressed snugly against his crotch. Then, without warning, he stands up swiftly, taking me with him as he cradles me in his arms, holding me flush against his chest.

I watch with total bewilderment as he carries me inside the room and gently lowers me onto the plush, oversized bed. On my back, at a slight incline with the pillows propped up behind my head and neck, shirtless Leo in all his glory is on his knees straddling my legs, and his face is hovering directly above mine. His brandy-colored irises are glued to mine, as if they’re searching for some hidden, locked-away secret.

“I didn’t ask you up here to
fuck
you, as you so eloquently put it, nor do I want to destroy your dignity.” His face softens as he continues, “I loved hanging out with you today, so much so that I didn’t want it to end. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable out there; that wasn’t my intention at all. Instead of just telling you how beautiful you are, I wanted you to
feel
it too. You deserve that, and I’d be a damn liar if I said I don’t wish I could show you that for days and nights to come. But, the reality is, I can’t do that.”

“Then show me right now. Make me
feel
beautiful, Leo.”

There.

Decision made.

I’m owning this shit.

“THEN SHOW ME RIGHT NOW
. Make me feel beautiful, Leo.”

The words echo in my ears loud and clear, and as I look down into her pleading, exquisite, emerald eyes, I know there’s no way I’m going to disappoint her. I want to make her feel like the most magnificent creature, because she most definitely is. Without remorse, without regret, I plan to worship every fucking inch of her petite body.

“My pleasure, Miss Trystan.”

A feral growl releases from my throat as my mouth crashes onto hers, her sweet lips parting eagerly for my tongue to explore, to conquer. We kiss like we’ve been doing it our entire lives, our mouths two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. Her arms reach up and cup the back of my neck, holding my face to hers as her legs lock around my waist. My fingers quickly find her long, flaxen tresses—threading, tugging, and tilting—while my mouth wanders away from her mouth, but doesn’t leave her soft skin. Across her jawline, beyond her neck, down to her chest, I kiss, lick, and nibble my way to her large, heaving breasts struggling to break free from the swimsuit top and sundress still holding them hostage.

“Off. All of it off,” I grumble with frustration against the fabric.

I sit upright, pulling her with me, and in seconds, I’ve disrobed her completely, leaving her completely naked spread out atop the sheets. “Fuck, Trys, you’re stunning,” I hiss, shamelessly gawking at her in all of her splendor, on display beneath me. “I’m going to devour you now.”

Her eyes grow wide at my words, and with a wicked curl of her lips, she reaches up and palms my rock-hard cock through my shorts. “Not if I devour you first.” Then, almost as quickly as I removed her clothing, she’s unbuttoned, unzipped, and freed my steeled shaft, all with one hand. My focus momentarily shifts from her to where her hand is lightly caressing me, and then I lose all control.

Gently grabbing both of her wrists, I detach them from my throbbing cock—I don’t want this to end before we really get started—and lift them over her head. “Try to keep them here as long as you can, beautiful,” I instruct. She whimpers in defiance, but does as she’s told and leaves them on the pillow.

I finish the job she started with my shorts, ridding myself of them completely and tossing them onto the floor next to the pile of her clothes, and then I nudge her thighs open to position myself between them. Carefully crawling up her frame, I plant several more hungry kisses onto her mouth before making my descent down her supple, ivory body. I detour from my final destination to give each breast equal treatment, massaging, flicking, twisting, and sucking, while my cock pulsates with desire at each little noise she makes.

When I can no longer deny myself the taste of that sweet pussy I know is waiting for me, I lower myself the rest of the way down until I’m face-to-face with the grand prize. Purposely, I linger inches away, inhaling the scent of her arousal and savoring the sight of slickness already glistening on her lower lips.

“Leo, please,” she implores me in a raspy, guttural voice.

No further begging is necessary. I want a taste of her succulent honey more than she could ever imagine. Eating pussy used to be my
thing
; I loved it as much as I loved fucking, sometimes more. But ever since I moved away, I’ve refrained; I just wasn’t ready to move past
her.
Now, however, she’s a part of my past, a past I have no interest in reliving. This impressive, splendid young woman wriggling her pretty little pussy right in front of my face is the only thing on my menu.

“This is all for you, beautiful,” I say as I bring my mouth to the sensitive area inside her thigh, licking my way up to her sex.

My tongue traces each of her puffy lips at an excruciatingly slow pace—up, down, and up again. Then, sliding between them, I use my fingers to hold her open, giving me access to her hard little nub and aching slit. I lick every square inch of her, alternating the pressure from as light as a butterfly’s flutter to as forceful as leathery lapping, and then suck, flick, and nibble on her pebbled pearl of pleasure until her movements transform into all-out writhing.

Drifting down to her opening, I continue my relentless oral assault, tracing my tongue around the edge, then dipping inside her hot core. Holy fucking shit, she tastes like cotton candy. My tongue plunges deep inside her, unable to get enough, lapping at her like she’s the oasis to my desert. My fingers travel up to her clit and rub hard little circles on the pressure point as I continue to consume her.