His Morning Devotion to Her
# Morning Devotion The dawn light painted the bedroom in soft golds, filtering through the blinds to stripe across the tousled sheets. Leo’s large hand splayed possessively over Zoe’s bare hip, the contrast between his tanned, muscular arm
Chapter 1
The dawn light painted the bedroom in soft golds, filtering through the blinds to stripe across the tousled sheets. Leo’s large hand splayed possessively over Zoe’s bare hip, the contrast between his tanned, muscular arm and her slender, athletic frame a silent testament to their difference. He was already awake, his intense blue gaze tracing the delicate curve of her spine, the way her short brown hair fanned across his pillow.
She stirred, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she felt his warmth. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep, a shy smile touching her lips before she buried her face back into the pillow.
“Good morning, Maya,” he replied, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating through the mattress. He didn’t move his hand, but his thumb began a slow, deliberate sweep along the dip of her waist. It was a simple touch, laden with promise. His adventurous spirit was a quiet force this morning, tempered by the tender atmosphere that hung in the air.
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I dreamed about you,” he whispered, the words pure, husky heat. “About this.” His hand slid from her hip to the flat plane of her stomach, fingers splaying wide. “About watching you come undone before I ever touched you.”
Zoe’s breath hitched. The serious, playful woman he knew was still wrapped in a cocoon of early-morning shyness, but a thrill shot through her at his words. She turned her head on the pillow, meeting his gaze. His blond hair was sleep-mussed, his blue eyes holding a familiar, dominant sparkle that made her stomach flip.
“Show me,” she breathed, the request barely audible, a boldness peeking through her reserve.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Leo’s face. He shifted, his large body moving with a predatory grace until he was propped beside her, looking down at her flushed form. “My pleasure.”
His touch became a study in extended foreplay. He didn’t rush. He traced the lines of her body, from the delicate slope of her shoulder, over the subtle swell of her breast, down the taut plane of her abdomen. Every pass of his fingers was a silent claim, a worship of her fit, thin physique. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a deep, languid kiss, his tongue exploring hers with a tenderness that belied the growing hardness she could feel pressing against her thigh.
When he finally broke the kiss, his gaze was dark. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, his voice a low vibration. “Let me watch.”
The shyness flared for a heartbeat, then melted under the heat of his unwavering attention. Her hand, smaller and finer than his, slipped between her own thighs. Her eyes never left his as her fingers found their rhythm, a slow, building cadence. Her breath came quicker, her hips arching slightly off the mattress. The sight of her—serious in her concentration, yet utterly vulnerable—was the most erotic thing Leo had ever seen.
He watched, enthralled, his own hand moving to stroke himself in time with her movements, a mutual, silent
Chapter 2
Leo kneeled between Zoe’s legs, his breath warm on her inner thighs. He leaned in, his blue eyes holding hers with a possessive tenderness. “Now I want to taste you,” he murmured, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through her core.
Before she could answer, he lowered his head and slowly traced the flat of his tongue along her sensitive folds.
A sharp gasp tore from Zoe’s throat, her back arching off the mattress. “Leo…”
“Just feel it, Maya,” he commanded softly, his hands sliding under her thighs to hold her open. “Let me have this.”
He tasted her with a devoted, deliberate slowness, each long, wet stroke of his tongue a silent promise. He explored every part of her, his technique alternating between broad, soothing laps and focused, pinpoint flicks that made her whimper and twist her fingers in the sheets. The sight of him—his muscular shoulders flexing, his blond head buried between her thighs—was overwhelmingly intimate.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growled against her, the crude word sending a fresh jolt of heat through her. “So sweet and perfect for me.”
Her shyness was incinerated, replaced by a raw, building need. Her hips began to move in a helpless rhythm against his mouth. “Don’t stop… please.”
“I won’t,” he promised, his voice muffled against her skin. He slid a hand up her trembling stomach to cup her breast, his thumb circling her nipple. The dual sensation was exquisite torture. “You’re going to come on my tongue. I want to feel you let go.”
His words, his relentless mouth, the skilled pressure of his fingers—it was too much. A tight coil of pleasure wound deep in her belly, threatening to snap. Her breaths came in ragged pants. “I’m close… I’m so close, Leo.”
He increased the pace, his tongue working her with firm, knowing strokes. “Then come for me,” he ordered, his gaze locking onto hers. “Now.”
Chapter 3
His words were a command she felt in her bones. The air in the room shifted, charged with a new, deliberate intensity. Leo’s large hands slid from her hips, up her trembling sides, until they cupped her shoulders. With a tenderness that belied his strength, he guided her, turning her body over until she lay on her stomach against the soft sheets. The morning light now painted a golden path down the length of her exposed back.
“I want to worship every part of you,” he whispered, his voice a low, reverent rumble close to her ear. His lips brushed the nape of her neck, sending a cascade of shivers across her skin. “Starting right here.”
His hands began their work, warm and slick with a scented oil he must have fetched while she was lost in the aftershocks of his mouth. They started at her shoulders, kneading the tension from her muscles with a firm, knowing pressure. Each slow, circular stroke was a silent promise, a claiming of her body inch by devoted inch. His thumbs traced the delicate line of her spine, down to the small of her back, where his touch softened, becoming more exploratory.
As his hands swept lower, the massage shifted. It was no longer just about relaxation. His palms smoothed over the firm, rounded curves of her ass, squeezing gently, worshiping the shape of her. One hand drifted to the back of her thigh, his fingers tracing the powerful line of her quad before sliding inward, along the sensitive inner skin. He leaned over her, his breath hot on her ear. “You’re so perfect for me, Maya. Every muscle, every curve.”
His exploration became explicitly intimate. One hand remained on her lower back, a heavy, comforting weight, while the other trailed down, slipping between her thighs from behind. His fingers didn’t enter her, not yet. They glided through her slickness, gathering her wetness before sliding back up to circle the tight, hidden pucker of her ass. The touch was a blunt, electrifying question.
Zoe gasped, her face pressed into the pillow, her back arching instinctively. The shyness was a distant memory, incinerated by the slow-burning fire he was stoking. “Leo…”
“Shhh,” he soothed, his voice thick with desire. “Just feel how much I want you. Every part.” His finger continued its slow, sensual circles, the pressure teasing, promising. He dipped lower again, dragging his fingertips through her drenched folds before returning to that forbidden rim, each pass making her clench with a mixture of shock and raw need. He was claiming all of her, and the explicit, deliberate intent of his touch coiled the pleasure inside her tighter, a beautiful, unbearable tension building with every sacred stroke of his hand.