The Deep Down

The silk sheets tangled around our legs, cool against the warmth of our skin as Leon’s hands slid up my torso, his fingers brushing lightly over my ribs before settling on my breasts. His palms were rough—calloused from years of training, a reminder of his werewolf strength—but his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as his index and middle fingers circled my nipples, then clasped them softly, pulling upward just enough to make me gasp. He leaned down, his breath hot against my chest, and kissed each nipple in turn—slow, lingering presses of his lips, then the flick of his tongue, until they hardened under his attention, wet with his saliva. A shiver ran down my spine, half pleasure, half the quiet ache of confusion that lingered even in this moment. "I want you, please!" I groaned, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer. The words spilled out before I could stop them, a mix of need and something deeper—desperation, maybe, to hold onto this closeness, to ignore the dou