Ravaged Crown

Chapter 5 Episode 5

I’m only just now realizing that my loss of s****l desire the last few years has nothing to do with me—and everything to do with Casey.

The man’s hand curls around my waist. I gasp as he pulls me onto his lap.

He feels different, somehow. So solid and strong.

It’s a strange observation, considering Casey’s a big man in his own right. But some nights while suffering under my husband’s sweaty thrusts and grunts, I get the feeling he’s insubstantial. Like sand in my arms. I try to hold on and he just seems to waste away.

But this man? He feels alive.

I breathe him in. Under the vodka, I smell oak, mint, leather. If confidence had a smell, this would be it.

When I sense his erection between my thighs, I pull back with another small gasp. My eyes find his. In a sudden moment of clarity, I take stock of the position I’ve found myself in.

I’m straddling a stranger. My arms clutch his shoulders for support. His hands grip my waist like he could break me in half if he cared to.

“I… what did you say your name was?” I stammer. I honestly can’t remember.

“Leo,” I repeat. “God, what am I doing?”

His fingertip snakes beneath the untucked hem of my uniform. I hiss at the skin-on-skin contact and recoil. “No, no… We can’t…”

He doesn’t seem in the least bit put off by my hesitancy. In fact, he looks a little intrigued by it. The type of man who likes a challenge.

“Because… because I’m married, for starters. Just because he cheated doesn’t mean I have the right to.”

His finger strokes over the bare skin of my hip and my eyes flutter with desire. Leo is not making this easy in the slightest. “He’s still my husband.”

“Don’t waste your time being faithful to people who don’t deserve it. You want something, Willow? f*****g take it.”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“I know you want me.”

I frown again, deeper. “You don’t know that. You don’t know me at all.”

His eyes glimmer. “I know everything there is to know about you, Willow Powers.”

I do a double take. There’s a sense of some huge roiling mystery under those words. It frightens me in an exhilarating sort of way. Like swimming in the deep ocean and shivering when you realize just what kinds of monsters are lurking beneath your feet.

“W… what do you mean?”

He ignores the question. “Tell me what you want, Willow.”

For a long time, I just stare at him.

But once the words sink in, so does the power.

It’s the first time in a long time I’ve felt powerful. So I do what Leo told me to do: I take what I want.

I lean in and kiss him. It’s hot and possessive. I feel like I’m melting into him. Like I’m leaving myself behind and letting Leo Solovev consume me in my entirety.

I lift my legs up so he can slide my panties from beneath my skirt. His fingers dance over my thigh and part my thighs. He brushes against my c**t with a feather-light touch.

“That’s a good girl,” Leo murmurs. I burn with shame at how hot those four little words make me.

Casey usually prefers to call me his “w***e” or his “slut” when we have s*x. I’d probably be more offended if it was something I had to endure for more than two or three minutes at a time. But he’s a three-pumps-and-done guy if ever there was one, so it only hurts for a little bit.

Sex with Casey—scratch that, life with Casey—is about him. His greed. His selfishness. His inability to see me as anything other than a conduit for his pleasure.

But the way Leo is touching me right now is the polar f*****g opposite.

He thumbs my center and stares into the depths of my soul. When he murmurs, “Do you want to come for me?” I know that that’s exactly what he wants me to do.

More importantly, it’s what I want to do for him.

So I do. I come, hard and guiltlessly.

And when he opens his zipper and his c**k springs out, I straddle it, sink onto him, and start to ride. Just as hard. Just as guiltlessly.

Leo is far bigger than Casey, thicker and longer. But it’s not just the size of him. It’s the way he uses it.

He controls from the bottom. Never any doubt that he’s the one calling the shots. He f***s up into me, pinning me in place and leaving me with no choice but to cling to his shoulders and whimper with each savage thrust.

After fifty or a hundred or a million hard poundings—I lose the ability to count pretty early on—he flips me onto my back on the plush sofa. I’m sweating as he lays his body on top of mine.

The first grinding thrust lights up my c**t. He licks and bites and kisses his way from my neck to my collarbone. All I can do is hook my heels behind his back and urge him deeper and deeper into me.

He rips my blouse open with one hand before burying his face between my breasts. When he nips my n****e between his teeth, I cry out.

Leo laughs. “Sensitive little kukolka, aren’t you?”

If I could talk, I’d tell him that it’s never been like this before. But since I can’t talk, I just moan and spread wider for him.

He lifts up, clenches my hips, and starts to pull me onto him. He’s as deep as it’s possible to go, and the light pressure of his thumb on my c**t is the last thing I need before I blast off again.

My eyes roll back in my head and my entire body dissolves into shivers and goosebumps.

I dig my nails into the backs of his thighs as he drives me to orgasm. He gives a few more brutal thrusts, and then I feel new warmth spread inside me, sticky and familiar.

After he empties himself in me, he sighs. He runs his tongue over my n*****s and props himself up on the sofa.

Immediately, he’s calm and collected, like nothing ever happened. It takes me a little more time to get my bearings. When I finally manage to sit up with him, my heart is still racing. My breathing is labored.

As I come down off the high, the shock of what I’ve just done settles over me.

Not just another man, but a complete and total stranger.

He could be diseased! He could be crazy! He could be married or wanted by the police. He almost certainly is very, very dangerous. One look at his steely eyes is enough to confirm that much.

I’m going to have a panic attack if I keep thinking about it. So as I tug my clothes back into place, I try to just breathe. Stave off the freak-out.

The whole time, Leo is reclined on the sofa, watching me.

“I… I should go,” I tell him. “I’m sorry…”

I glance towards him, cheeks burning. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

I turn to him, taken back by his calm bluntness. “I don’t know.”

“I… yes,” I admit. “I did.”

He nods. “Good. Never apologize for what you want. I don’t.”

“You’re a man,” I say automatically. “Men can get away with things women can’t.”

“That sounds like an excuse.”

“It’s how the world works.”

He shakes his head. “The world works however you make it work, Willow. Either you understand that and shape it how you like… or you remain ignorant and let others decide the rules. The choice is always yours.”

“Did you read that on a fortune cookie?” I snap bitterly. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel guilty. I didn’t mean to come off like a b***h.

I’m about to apologize, but then I remember what he just said: Never apologize.

It doesn’t really matter anyway. After tonight, I’m never going to see him again. I’m surprised when that realization comes with a zing of disappointment.

Once I’m dressed and looking half-way presentable, I notice that bucket of ice on the table. It’s half-melted.

“I… I haven’t even taken your order,” I say awkwardly.

He smiles and gets to his feet. He’s tall—really f*****g tall. I didn’t quite process that while we were… occupied.

“There’s no need,” he tells me. “I got what I wanted out of tonight.”

Not that I understand at all what he means by that. Again, I feel like I’m floating in the deep ocean. There’s no land in sight and something huge is brushing against my foot. I shiver.

Something else occurs to me. “Leo?”

“Thank you. For… for what you did. With Casey.”

He nods solemnly. “Don’t thank me just yet.”

Then he leaves. When he walks out of the room, he doesn’t look back.

I sleepwalk through the rest of my shift. When I finally turn in my uniform, it’s with insurmountable relief. Only a few more obstacles between me and blissful unconsciousness.

The first of those obstacles is snoring up a storm on the living room couch when I get home. I sneak past Casey and into the master bathroom.

I splash some cold water on my face and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Can you see what happened on my face? Are there physical signs of infidelity etched into my skin?