Chapter 14: The Tour
She led him down the hallway by the hand, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, the black lace of the bodysuit catching the dim light from the wall sconces. Behind her, she could hear Leo's breathing—shallow, uneven—and the soft pad of his steps as he followed.
He was still naked. Still wet in places the towel had missed. And he was staring at her ass like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
"The tour starts here," Luna said, pushing open the door to the living room.
The room was bathed in the soft amber glow of a single floor lamp, the rest of the house dark and quiet. Framed photos lined the walls—her parents at some military gala, Luna at eight with a gap-toothed grin, a family portrait from three Christmases ago. The couch was plush and worn, the kind of furniture that had absorbed decades of lazy Sunday afternoons and late-night movie marathons.
Leo didn't look at any of it.
"Nice couch," he said, his voice rough.
"Yeah?"
"Very... bendy."
Luna laughed, low and knowing, and turned to face him. The bodysuit left nothing to the imagination—the lace was so sheer it might as well have been painted on. Her nipples were hard against the fabric, dark and visible, and the cut of the neckline plunged almost to her navel.
"You're staring," she said.
"I'm allowed."
She stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin. "You are."
He reached for her, but she danced back, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Tour first."
He groaned. "You're killing me."
She turned and walked toward the back of the couch, dragging her fingers along the fabric. The bodysuit's cut meant the lace climbed high on her hips, leaving the swell of her ass bare. She knew what he was seeing. Knew what it was doing to him.
"The living room," she said, stopping behind the couch. "Where we watch movies. Eat takeout. Normal stuff."
"Uh-huh."
She glanced over her shoulder. Leo was closer than she'd expected, his eyes black with want, his cock jutting out from his body like a compass pointing north.
"Something wrong?" she asked, innocent.
"Everything's right." He closed the distance in three steps and spun her around, bending her over the back of the couch in one smooth motion. Her hands flew out to catch herself, palms flat against the cushions, and then his fingers hooked into the bodysuit and yanked it aside.
"Leo—"
The first thrust stole her breath.
He didn't ease in. Didn't give her time to adjust. He just drove into her, deep and hard, his hands gripping her hips with enough force to leave bruises. The sound that escaped her was obscene—a high, keening moan that echoed off the walls and probably through the front windows.
"Fuck," he grunted, pulling back and slamming in again. "Fuck, fuck—"
Luna's head fell forward, her hair spilling over the cushions. He was hitting something deep, something that made her toes curl and her vision blur. Each thrust was brutal, precise, a punishing rhythm that she felt in her fucking teeth.
"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, right there, don't stop—"
Through the window, the street was dark and quiet. But the blinds were open. Anyone walking past would see her—her face flushed, her mouth open, her body jerking with every thrust. The thought sent a bolt of heat straight to her clit.
"People could see you," Leo said, his voice ragged. "You know that? Any fucking neighbor walking by—"
"I know." She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with her own. "Fucking love it."
He groaned and picked up the pace.
The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room—wet, rhythmic, obscene. Luna's moans grew louder, less controlled. She wasn't trying to be quiet anymore. She wanted everyone within a five-mile radius to hear her getting railed over her parents' couch.
"Harder," she begged. "Please, Leo, fucking harder—"
He gave her harder.
His hips slammed into her with enough force to push the couch forward an inch. His fingers dug into her waist, his rhythm losing any pretense of control. He was fucking her like he owned her, like she was his to ruin.
"Show me," he grunted. "Show me how much you love it."
"I love it, I fucking love it—" Her words broke apart into a scream as the orgasm crashed into her, sudden and devastating. Her body clenched around him, her thighs shaking, and she bit down on her own wrist to keep from biting through her lip.
Behind her, Leo kept going, chasing his own release. She felt him swell inside her, felt the wild falter in his rhythm, and then he was coming with a roar that rattled the windows.
They stayed there for a moment, both of them panting, the couch creaking softly under their weight. Luna's legs felt like they were made of water. She could feel his seed dripping down her thigh.
"Fucking hell," he breathed.
She laughed, hoarse and delirious. "That's the living room."
---
The kitchen was all white marble and stainless steel, the counters spotless because her mother—her doctor mother—couldn't abide a single crumb out of place. Luna grabbed Leo's hand and pulled him past the center island, past the double oven, past the coffee maker that cost more than her laptop.
"Kitchen," she said. "Where we make breakfast. And sometimes dance."
"The dancing part?" He was looking at her ass again.
"Mind out of the gutter, Maddox."
"Never."
She spotted it—her dad's chair. The one at the head of the table, the one with the high back and the worn leather seat. For one filthy, rebellious second, she imagined her father sitting in it, newspaper in hand, having no idea what his daughter was about to do in that exact spot.
She pulled it out and turned to Leo.
"Sit."
He raised an eyebrow. "Bossing me around?"
"Tonight? Yeah."
Something in his expression shifted—surprise, then amusement, then pure heat. He dropped into the chair without another word, his legs sprawled, his cock already hardening again.
Luna swung one leg over him, straddling his lap. The bodysuit was still hanging loose from his earlier efforts, and the nylons—those perfect black nylons—framed her thighs like something from a perfume ad.
She reached between them, wrapped her fingers around him, and guided him inside.
They both groaned at the same time.
"Jesus," Leo said. "You're so wet."
"Wonder whose fault that is."
She didn't wait. She planted her hands on his shoulders and started to ride him, slow at first, then faster. The chair creaked beneath them, the leather squeaking with every bounce. Leo's hands found her hips, helping her move, and his mouth found her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breast where the lace didn't cover.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered against her skin. "So fucking perfect riding my cock."
She felt powerful like this. In control. The way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing—made her feel like she could do anything.
"I'm close," she said.
"Come for me."
"Already did once tonight. This one's for me."
She rode him harder, faster, her thigh muscles burning. The chair legs scraped against the tile floor. Leo's head fell back, his jaw clenched, and she watched the tendons in his neck strain as he got closer.
"Fuck, I'm gonna—"
"Come in me," she breathed. "Fucking come in me."
He did.
His hips bucked up, driving into her, and she felt his release pulse inside her. She slowed, rocking gently while he emptied himself, and when she finally pulled off, she could feel his seed slicк between her thighs.
She slid off his lap and sank to her knees in front of him.
Leo stared down at her, his chest heaving. "What are you—"
She took his cock in her hand, still glistening with her wetness and his cum, and brought it to her mouth.
"Fuck," he whispered.
She licked him clean. Every inch. Her tongue ran along the underside, over the head, catching every drop of their mixed fluids. He tasted like sex and salt and something that was just him, and she sucked him down like she was starving for it.
"You taste so good baby," she said, pulling back just enough to speak. "Fucking love your cock."
"Luna—"
She took him deep, hollowing her cheeks, and he groaned like he was dying.
When she finally pulled away, his cock was clean and slick and half-hard again. She stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled.
"Kitchen tour's done."
---
The dining room was darker than the rest of the house, the chandelier above the table unlit. The long mahogany table was set with placemats and candles, ready for a dinner party that wasn't happening. Luna walked to the middle of the room and hoisted herself onto the edge of the table.
Leo followed.
He stood between her legs, his hands braced on the table on either side of her hips, and kissed her. Slow and deep, his tongue sliding against hers like they had all the time in the world. She melted into it, her arms winding around his neck, her body molding itself to his.
"You're driving me mad," he murmured against her lips. "You know that? Fucking mad."
"Good."
"I can't stop thinking about you. When I'm flying, when I'm sleeping, when I'm fucking jerking off in the shower—it's you. Always you."
Her heart swelled.
Luna pulled back, just enough to look at him. Her hair was a wreck, her lips swollen, the bodysuit clinging to her sweat-slicked skin. She knew what she looked like right now—like a fucking painting of debauchery. But the way he was looking at her made her feel beautiful.
"I want to try something," she said.
"What?"
She placed her hands on his chest and pushed.
He went down easy, onto his knees between her legs, looking up at her like she was a goddess and he was her most devoted worshipper.
"Not that," she said. "I mean—"
She stopped. Swallowed. Felt a fresh wave of heat roll through her at the sight of him like this—kneeling, hard, waiting for her.
"I want to watch you touch yourself," she whispered.
His eyes went wide. Then dark. Then ravenous.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She slid her hand down her stomach, under the edge of the bodysuit, and found her clit with her fingertips. "And I want you to watch me."
They were a matched set—her fingers circling her clit, his hand wrapped around his cock. The only sounds were their breathing and the wet, unmistakable noises of self-pleasure.
"You're so wet," he said, voice strained. "I can hear it."
"Because of you." She spread her legs wider, giving him a better view. "Because you fucked me on the couch. And in the kitchen. Because you're on your knees watching me touch myself like a desperate fucking pervert."
"Fuck."
She extended one leg, the nylon catching the dim light. Her foot hovered near his face, encased in sheer black, and she wiggled her toes.
"Want something?" she teased.
He didn't answer with words.
He grabbed her ankle and pulled her foot to his mouth.
Luna gasped as his tongue met the sole of her foot through the nylon. He dragged it slowly along the arch, from heel to toe, and then took her big toe into his mouth through the fabric, sucking gently.
"Oh my God," she breathed.
He looked up at her, his eyes burning, and did it again. Slower this time. His tongue traced patterns on the sheer material, finding every arch and curve, and Luna felt every stroke like it was happening between her legs.
"Fuck," she whimpered. "Fuck, that's—you're—"
She was fingering herself faster now, her fingers plunging in and out of her cunt while he worshipped her foot like it was the holiest thing in the world. She could feel the orgasm building, coiling in her belly like a snake.
Then Leo pulled her foot away and stood up.
He gripped her knees and spread her legs wide before kneeling again—this time with his mouth at her cunt.
His tongue found her clit and Luna screamed.
He ate her out like a man possessed, his tongue flicking and swirling, his lips sucking, his fingers sliding into her wet heat. She fell back onto the table, spread-eagled, her hands clawing at the mahogany surface.
"Fuck, right there, don't stop, don't you fucking stop—"
He didn't.
The orgasm hit her like a freight train, her back arching off the table, her thighs clamping around his head. She screamed his name, screamed for God, screamed for anyone who might be listening. Her body shuddered and jerked, oversensitive and electric, and still he kept licking until she had to physically push his head away.
"I can't," she gasped. "Too much—"
He pulled back, his mouth glistening with her. "You can," he said. "But I'll give you a minute."
She laughed, shaky and breathless. "I love you."
"I love you too."
---
The study was her father's inner sanctum.
Luna had barely been inside it. Her father was a private man—not cold, not distant, but private. The study was his. Bookshelves lined the walls, thick biographies and military histories and first editions. A globe sat on the corner of his desk. The leather chair behind the desk was cracked with age, the kind of chair that had witnessed decades of decisions.
She led Leo inside, her hand in his.
He looked around, taking it in. "Your dad's—"
"Yeah."
He didn't say anything else. Just closed the door behind them and turned to her.
The look in his eyes had shifted. Less playful now. More urgent.
"I want you to bend over the desk," he said.
Luna's breath caught. It wasn't a request.
She walked to the desk, her hips swaying, the nylons whispering against the floor. She planted her hands on the smooth wood and bent forward, arching her back, presenting herself to him like an offering.
Leo stepped up behind her.
His hands found her hips, fingers digging into the lace of the bodysuit. He didn't bother pulling it aside this time—he just yanked it up, exposing her completely.
"Perfect," he murmured. "Fucking perfect."
She braced herself.
The first thrust was brutal.
He buried himself to the root in one stroke, and Luna cried out, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the desk. Papers scattered. A pen rolled off the edge and clattered to the floor.
"You want it?" he asked, pulling back and slamming in again. "You want me to fuck you on your daddy's desk?"
"Yes—"
He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back.
"Ask for it."
"Please—"
"Ask for it properly."
She sobbed, her entire body shaking. "Please fuck me harder. Please, Leo, I need it, I need you to fuck me harder—"
He gave her harder.
His hips slammed into her with such force that the desk rattled, the globe wobbling on its stand. He fucked her like a man possessed, his hand still fisted in her hair, pulling her head back until her throat was exposed. She could see the books on the shelf blurring in front of her.
"More," she begged. "More, more, please—"
"You're so greedy," he said, but his voice was strained with his own need. "So fucking greedy for my cock."
"Yes—"
He let go of her hair and brought his hand down on her ass.
The crack was loud in the quiet room. Luna screamed, the pain and pleasure blending into something that made stars burst behind her eyes.
"Harder," she gasped. "Spank me harder—"
He did.
Again and again, his palm stinging against her flesh, leaving red handprints on her pale skin. She was crying now—not from sadness, but from the sheer overwhelming flood of sensation. He was everywhere. Inside her, behind her, over her. Filling her so completely that she couldn't remember where she ended and he began.
"Please," she sobbed. "Please let me come—"
"Come for me."
The words were barely out of his mouth before her body obeyed.
She came with a shriek that echoed through the study, her cunt clamping down on him like a fist. Her vision went white. She lost all sense of time and place. All she knew was pleasure—sharp and consuming and absolutely infinite.
Behind her, Leo followed with a growl, his hips jerking, his release spilling into her. He collapsed forward, his chest pressing into her back, his breath hot against her ear.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
Then Luna started to laugh.
"Your dad's going to notice his papers are messed up," Leo said, breathless.
"I'll fix them."
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. His hair was a disaster. Sweat dripped down his temple. He looked thoroughly, completely, utterly wrecked.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing." She reached back and touched his face, her fingers gentle against his stubbled jaw. "Just—I'm glad you came over."
He kissed her shoulder. "I'm glad your mom winked at you."
Luna laughed again, and this time it was bright and real and completely without shame.
"Come on," she said. "There's still the guest room. And the laundry room. And I haven't shown you the roof yet."
Leo's eyes widened. "The roof?"
"Access from my dad's study." She pointed to a small door in the corner. "He doesn't know I know about it."
"You're going to get me arrested."
She pulled him upright and kissed him, quick and dirty.
"Worth it," she said.
Then she grabbed his hand and led him through the door.