Leo: A More Than Series Spin-Off

by McLean, Jay

  And I groan, the sound of frustration. “You say these things, Leo, and then I picture them in my head, and I get so fucking turned on and then you deprive me of—”

  “Deprive you?”

  “Touch me!” I demand. “Between my legs. Touch me there and see what you do to me.”

  He’s still squatting behind me, and I’m still standing, craning my neck to see him. He looks up at me, even though his hands are lowering my sleep shorts. For a second, I feel embarrassed about how exposed I am to him. Cool air hits my wetness, and then he does what I asked of him. He slides a finger through my liquid pleasure, and my knees buckle beneath me when his tongue replaces his finger. “Oh, fuck!” I cry out. His hand’s firm against my back, pushing me so I’m angled, giving him better access, and I’ve never, ever felt so much pleasure in such short time, with such small movements. I can’t catch my breath, and he keeps going and going, his hands steady on my thighs, spreading me for him.

  “Fuck, baby,” he groans, and then he’s gone. No more fingers. No more tongue.

  I whimper at the loss. Only for a second, until I realize he’s standing again, his hands making quick work of tying my top around my wrists. A smile tugs at my lips, but I hide it when he turns me to him, my hands bound behind my back. His shorts are off, and he already has his dick in his hand, stroking slowly, when he says, “I’ll be gentle.”

  I don’t want him to be gentle.

  He pushes me down by my shoulders, just like he said he would. On my knees in front of him, I wet my lips when my eyes level with his length. I regret asking him to tie up my hands now because I want to touch him, feel him. But then I realize I have my mouth to do that. I lick the tip, just once, and he lets out a sound so guttural I feel it pulse between my legs. I chance a peek up at him. He’s watching me, his face strained, jaw tense. He grasps the back of my head with one hand while the other cups my jaw. Then he runs the pad of his thumb across my lips. “Open.”

  I give him what he wants and keep my eyes on his.

  His entire body bucks the second he fills my mouth. His head throws back, but he keeps his eyes down, watching.

  Here’s the thing: I went to an all-girls’ boarding school, which meant that most nightly conversations consisted of sex, and explicit details of sex, and information and encouragement on how to do exactly what I’m doing. And even though I may not have done this before, I’ve imagined it. And every time I did, it was with Leo. I recall every little detail about blow jobs that I listened in on and put them to use. Whatever I do, it works, because it only takes a few minutes before Leo’s tugging on my hair, pulling me off of him. He reaches for his discarded boxer shorts, the muscles and veins in his neck straining with his release. The sound he makes, holy balls, I feel it everywhere. He keeps his eyes on mine as he recovers, his breaths so heavy they flow through every inch of him. “You’re so fucking bad,” he says, and then he’s pulling me to my feet, turning me around, untying my hands and then throwing me on the mattress. I land on my back and watch as he kneels on the edge of the bed, spreads my legs open, my thighs pressed to the mattress, and then he dips his head. It’s like an out-of-body experience. I’m acutely aware of his mouth, his tongue, his fingers working me to the edge, over and over, but he never lets me fall. He just keeps forcing me to climb higher and higher while I grip at the sheets, at his hair, at his arms, at anything I can get my fucking hands on. My ears fill with the sounds of his movements against my most intimate parts, our heavy breaths, my moans of pleasure, and his dirty, filthy, vile words in between—all promises of the things he plans to do to me: him on top, cock deep inside me. Him beneath me, while I ride out my release. Me, on all fours with him pushing my face into the mattress as he pounds into me from behind. That last one is what pushes me over the edge. I’d been teetering in the state of semi-orgasm for so long that I don’t even realize I’m coming until I’m right. fucking. there.

  I curse. So many filthy fucking words. And I scream at God, as if he can somehow save me. I don’t even get a chance to recover before Leo’s standing up, taking his wallet from the pocket of his jeans and throwing it on the bed. He removes my pillows, then sits up, his back against the headrest. He pats his lap, but I can’t move. Even if I tried to stand, I don’t think my legs have the strength to hold me up.

  He smirks when I whimper, and then he reaches across for me, dragging me over his body, my sweat coating his flesh. I’m a mess. A hot, naked, burning mess of erotic pleasure. He holds me against his chest as he kisses me, and I taste myself on his tongue. But there’s something so different about this kiss. It’s not driven by lust or desire. It’s slow, and it’s passionate, and it’s all the versions of Leo I’ve been in love with since he introduced me to the emotion.

  He shifts lower on the bed, lying on his back with me on top. He never breaks the kiss as his hands wander my body, slowly, carefully, as if memorizing every dip, every bump. I force my body not to lock up, not to think about all its imperfections. Tears well in my eyes and I hate that they’re there, but I hate even more that he notices. He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes searching. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  I swallow the ache in my chest. “It’s just a lot, all of this.” It’s only a half-lie, I assure myself.

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I want you. This. All of it.” I kiss him quickly. “Make me yours?”

  He nods, eyes clear, as he rolls us onto my back. He kneels between my legs and reaches for his wallet, and pulls out condom, before dropping it beside my head. I glance at the open wallet, memories flooding me. This one is leather; the first one I saw was canvas. And because I’m curious, I lift my head, just to peek, and my breath catches. Holding his wallet up in front of me, I stroke my thumb over the plastic covering the picture. Why does he still have this picture of me? I look up at him, my eyes glassy with emotion. He smiles, but it’s sad. Then he reaches out, his hand cupping my face. “I hope you see how beautiful you are, Mia.” His throat moves with his swallow. “How beautiful you’ve always been.”

  I release a sob and focus on the picture again. And then I slide my finger beneath the plastic, hesitate, and look up for permission. Leo nods once, his eyes closing, as he lies on top of me, weight on his forearms, condom on, our most intimate parts barely touching. I put the wallet beside me and hold the picture to the side, so he can press his lips to my neck, again and again.

  I flip the picture over, and all air leaves my lungs.

  “I didn’t need three words to express how I feel about you, Mia.” He rears back, tilts his head to see what I’m seeing. “I just needed one.”

  I read the single word out loud. “Everything.”

  He takes the picture carefully from me and places it on my nightstand so he can take both my hands in his. He holds them above my head with one hand, the other sliding down my side. Eyes on mine, he says, voice so soft I barely hear him, “To me, Mia Mackenzie Kovács, you are everything.”

  I don’t hide my tears this time. I wear them proudly. “I have three words for you,” I tell him, kissing him once. “I love you.”

  The laugh that drags out of him isn’t from humor. It’s the sound of relief. Of releasing all the anxiety and dread and uncertainty we’ve been carrying around for five years. It’s his turn to kiss me. And in between those kisses, he murmurs, “So much.”

  And I whisper, “For so long.”

  And then he positions our bodies just right, the perfect fit, and he makes me his.

  Forever.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Mia

  “You’re so adorable,” Leo says, watching me from his rocking chair as I pace back and forth on the porch. This morning, we woke up naked and in each other’s arms, and it was perfect. So insanely perfect that I never wanted to leave. Never wanted to not be naked and wrapped around him. Which yeah, would be weird, but whatever.

  “I’m so excited!” So much so, I’m literally bouncing on my toes. “I
haven’t seen him in a year. I can’t wait to hug him and fuss over him and love on him.”

  Leo stands and grasps my shoulders, forcing me to stop and face him. “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi,” I reply, and his smile matches mine.

  “What are we going to do about your grandpa?” He says each word slowly, hesitantly, and I narrow my eyes in confusion.

  “What do you mean?”

  He leads me to the porch swing and gently encourages me to sit. “Are we going to tell him about us?”

  “Are you kidding?” I almost shout. “I can’t wait to tell him!”

  Leo grimaces, and suddenly, I’m not smiling anymore. “You don’t want to tell him?”

  “It’s just… it’ll be a lot for him, you know, with the whole coming back, you surprising him, and then kind of the whole history of your parents sneaking around and… you’re here, so we know how that turned out.”

  “Ooohhhh.” My eyes widen as understanding dawns. “I hadn’t thought about that.” I push forward on the swing, just enough to reach him and kiss him quickly. He smiles against my lips, and so I do it again.

  “I was thinking… I leave on Saturday—” I pout. “Just for a couple of days,” he rushes to add. “A week, max.” I fake cry, and he chuckles. “But let’s tell him when I get back. And…” His gaze drops, always thinking. “We’ll be respectful of his rules if he sets any. No sneaking around—”

  “But—” I start.

  “I know,” he sighs.

  “Sex,” I finish in a whisper, and he busts out a laugh just as an RV pulls into the driveway. I squeal and shove Leo out of the way so I can run toward it. I’m a giddy little girl, and I’m well aware that I might possibly be embarrassing myself in front of my booooooyfriend, but I don’t care because Papa’s home!

  As soon as the RV hits the brakes, I’m opening the passenger’s side door, only to be greeted with a sleeping Papa. My shoulders drop. “He’s tired,” Philip, Papa’s friend, says from behind the wheel.

  “I can see that,” I mumble.

  At the sounds of my voice, Papa’s head rolls to the side, and he whispers, “Baba?”

  “Papa?” I whisper back, and his eyes flutter open. His smile is slow, weak, and I realize now how much he’s aged in the year since I’ve seen him.

  “You’re here?” he croaks.

  “Are you surprised?”

  His nod is as weak as his smile.

  Leo stands beside me, and I watch his face for a reaction. Concern fills his eyes, and his brow dips. “You okay, sir?”

  “He’s just tired,” Philip repeats, placing Papa’s luggage beside Leo. “Bring that into his room for me, will ya, son?”

  “Sure,” Leo says, and Philip has to physically help Papa out of the RV. On unsteady legs, Papa holds on to his friend as they walk up the porch and into the house. It takes a moment for my mind to catch up to what I’m witnessing, and by the time everything clicks into place, everyone else is already in the house, and they’re walking into Papa’s bedroom. I stand in the doorway, my heart beating wildly against my ribs. A knot forms in my throat, blocking my airways, and when Philip helps Papa lie down, bringing the covers over his chest, I finally find my voice. “Is he sick?”

  Leo’s looking at me, his gaze as unsure as mine. When Philip approaches, he says, “Let him rest for now, sweetheart.” He rubs my arm. “He’ll be fine once he wakes.”

  Leo walks Philip to the door while I drop down to my knees next to the bed, taking Papa’s hand in mine. His hand is cold, fingers spotted with age. They’re rough from all the years of manual labor, and no matter how long it’s been since he retired, I don’t think that will ever change. I run my thumb over his knuckles and kiss his cheek. His eyelids flutter, but they don’t open. The curtains are drawn, and the lamp on the nightstand is the only source of light, casting shadows over his face. Every single strand of hair is white, from his bushy eyebrows to his thick beard. Even the wisps of hair on his head glimmer like snow under sunshine. A hand lands on my shoulder, and Leo’s squatting next to me, kissing my temple.

  I turn to him as his palm finds my nape, rubbing gently. “Was he like this when you saw him last?”

  “No,” he replies with a quick headshake.

  “Did he mention anything—”

  “No. I mean, he’d aged as much as can be expected in the year since I’d seen him, but it wasn’t like this. I’m just as surprised as you are, baby.”

  “What the hell happened?” I whisper, and Papa squeezes my hand.

  “I’m okay, baba,” he breathes out, his eyes remaining shut. “Just tired. I’ll be better after sleep.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “When I wake properly, I’ll see you. Everything will be better.” He seems to struggle to reach over with his free hand to cover mine. “I promise. Please, don’t worry.”

  “Maybe we should let him sleep?” Leo offers.

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to leave him.”

  “Go!” Papa says, and he opens his eyes this time. Brown, like mine, but darker. “You go…” And then he winks. “Baby.”

  Leo chuckles, his forehead falling to my shoulder, and I exhale, relieved. “You’ll be okay?” I ask, but Leo’s already pulling me to my feet.

  “I’ll be fine!” Papa grumbles, rolling to his side. “My bed never felt so good.”

  * * *

  My grandpa’s bedroom door opens just as Leo and I are setting the table for dinner. I smile when I see him, and he returns it. About a half-hour ago, I heard his toilet flush, and then the shower switch on, so I knew he was up and about. Seeing him now, color has returned to his face, and he’s dressed in faded denim overalls and a plaid shirt, just like the Papa I know. I start to approach him, my arms wide, and he puts a hand up between us. “Careful, baba,” he warns. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  With a giggle, I hug him carefully. “You scared me.”

  He returns my embrace with shaky arms. “Ah! I’m an old man. Soon, I’ll be in those adult diapers.” When he releases me, he looks over my shoulder. “Now you, Mister Baby…” Leo laughs as he pulls out a chair for Papa. “You treat her good, yes?”

  “Yes, sir,” Leo says, picking up the salad bowl from the island and putting it on the table.

  “And you’re safe?”

  Leo almost chokes on his tongue.

  “With her heart…” Papa says, and I crack a smile as I sit down in the chair between them.

  Leo exhales slowly. “Yes, sir.”

  Papa nods, forking fried chicken onto his plate. “And her body, too?”

  This time, Leo actually does choke. The water he’d just sipped comes dribbling out of his mouth, down his chin, and he wipes it away with a paper napkin. Eyes wide and red, he looks to me for answers. I pretend to focus on the salad. “Um…” Poor Leo.

  Papa grunts. “I’m asking if you’re using protection. I’m not stupid. I know what kids your age do, and the baby, baby—” he makes kissy noises, two to be exact “—stuff.”

  I stifle my laugh and look up at Leo, nodding once.

  He answers, “Yes, sir. We’re safe.” I mean, we’ve only done it once, so it’s not a lie.

  “Good!” Papa booms, then he takes Leo’s hand on the table, turns it palm up, and then slams a closed fist against it. And then he laughs, a sound that reminds me of why this place is home to me. “I give you now, my stamp of approval!”

  Leo chuckles, and as soon as Papa lets go of his hand, he shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth. I widen my eyes, shake my head to get his attention, and he notices. With another forkful halfway to his mouth, he looks between Papa and me. Then slowly, he lowers the fork, grimacing.

  I press my lips tight, doing everything I can to contain my laugh.

  “First we pray, boy,” Papa says, his voice low, even.

  “Sorry,” Leo mumbles.

  And then Papa retakes his hand. “Give me back my stamp,” he cracks, and just like that, we’re all
laughing and smiling. And that’s how we spend the entire night, even after dinner’s long over. Papa and Leo talk about the work in the barn and Leo’s hopes to get into law enforcement. I sit, and I listen, and I ignore the nagging in my gut that tells me I shouldn’t be enjoying this, that there’s no possible way this could be my future, that it’ll all be over before I know it, and when it does end, it will all be my fault.

  Chapter Fifty

  Mia

  Leo and Papa stand side by side, their arms crossed, legs parted as they watch a dumpster being lowered onto the driveway. “Yep!” Leo calls out. “That’s good.”

  “Yep! That’s good!” Papa repeats, and I stifle my laugh as I walk up behind them, my arm going around Leo’s waist.

  We slept in my bed last night, and even though we both wanted to do… things… it felt weird with Papa in the house, and so we cuddled. Or as Leo calls it: cuggles. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, and that’s how we stayed for the entire night.

  Leo was right; we are a perfect fit.

  “You taking off?” he asks, his arm around my shoulders as he drops a kiss on top of my head.

  “Yeah, the appointment’s in a half-hour, and it takes twenty to get there.”

  “Where are you going?” Papa asks me, leaning forward to look past Leo.

  “Dentist. It’s just a standard checkup.”

  His eyes light up. “I go with you.”

  I shake my head. “No, Papa,” I plead, but he’s already halfway to the front door.

  “I get changed and go with you. Don’t leave without me.”

  I sigh, resigned. “Fine. But hurry up.”

  Once he’s back in the house, Leo turns to me, both forearms resting on my shoulders. “Why don’t you want him to go with you?”

  My eye-roll makes him chuckle. “He goes to flirt with the nurse there. She’s, like, half his age.”

  Leo busts out a laugh.

  “Pervy old man,” I mumble.