He smoothly slid one arm beneath my knees and the other around my back, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. He always loved this position, this complete embrace that allowed our bodies to mold together. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms finding their way around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder as he carried me towards the master bedroom. The soft brush of his skin against mine, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear, the subtle, clean scent of his soap that always clung to him… it was a familiar symphony that promised a welcome respite from the chaos outside. I peppered soft kisses along the curve of his neck.

“Pulla…” he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper as he gently laid me down on the soft bed. His gaze lingered on me for a breathless moment before he turned, as he reached for the first drawer on the bedside table. The lube bottle appeared in his hand.

My fingers fumbled with the waistband of my underwear, tossing them aside with a haste. It had been too long, the demands of his work and the constant state of near-crisis stealing these precious moments. Now, the anticipation was a tangible thing, a radiant heat blooming in my core. I settled onto my back, spreading my legs in open invitation, my gaze fixed on him, every nerve ending alive and waiting for the exquisite torment of his slender, knowing fingers. He met my eyes, a slow, knowing smirk curving his lips, mirroring my own anticipation. His long fingers deftly opened the cap of the lube bottle. Just as the first glistening drop was poised to slide onto his fingertip, a buzz sliced through the silence.

His phone.

He expelled a frustrated breath, a muscle twitching in his jaw. With a sigh, he reached for the offending device, pinning it between his ear and shoulder. But no. I wasn’t about to let him have all the control, not this time. I snatched the bottle from his grasp, and squeezed a generous dollop onto my own fingers.

“Excellent,” he murmured into the phone, his thumb brushing my inner thigh. “Make absolutely certain you do not create a concentrated cluster of officers and bodyguards around the designated safe house. Discretion is paramount. Indeed…” His fingers continued their slow exploration, the gentle friction sending waves of heat pooling low in my belly. “No, no. He should absolutely release a public statement, but ensure it is via green screen, a secure and controlled environment. Absolutely not in front of any window or in any location that could inadvertently compromise his security. Good.” He punctuated the last word with a decisive nod, finally ending the call. His hand, however, remained on my thigh, his gentle rubbing now an insistent invitation as I tentatively guided my fingers.

Levi, a sigh escaping his lips, crawled onto the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. “Pulla,” he murmured, his voice thick with a mixture of impatience and desire. “The phone calls, I fear, are an endless tide. So, come,” he said, his hands reaching out to cup my hips, gently guiding me to sit astride him. He then settled back against the headboard.

“I will, Levi,” I breathed, my own desire a tangible ache. “But… for now… watch.” I widened my legs further, my gaze locked with his as I eased another slick finger inside myself. Ah… the pleasure of this moment.

His hands tightened slightly on my hips, a silent urging, but he remained still, granting me this moment of sensual exploration.

When I finally managed to ease in a third finger, the pulsing ache between my legs became unbearable. The wait was over. I crawled forward, straddling his thighs, and with a playful glint in my eyes, squirted a generous amount of lube onto his already straining cock. Rising onto my knees, I took a moment to anchor the slick length of him with my hand, my fingers tracing the hard ridge beneath the slickness. I began to lower myself, my breath catching in my throat. At first, I teased him mercilessly, each brush sending a jolt of pure sensation through me. Levi, the master of the slow burn watched, his own anticipation radiating off him in palpable waves. Finally, with a sigh of surrender, I lowered myself enough to take his tip fully inside. A low moan escaped my lips. His hands shot to my hips, gripping them tightly, partly to anchor me, partly to guide the rhythm that was about to begin, ensuring I wouldn’t slip and risk a less… pleasurable impalement.

The initial slide, taking just the tip, had been a delicious torment. But as I began the descent to take the rest of him, the reality became undeniably apparent. Each inch was a stretch, a pressure against something deep within me, feeling as though he was pressing against my organs. Sharp intakes of breath did little to ease the sensation. A louder moan, bordering on a whimper, escaped my lips as I stubbornly continued to lower myself. Levi, was less enthralled by my impulsive urgency. A deep frown creased his brow. “Pulla,” he said, halting my movement completely. “You are going to hurt yourself if you continue like this.”

It was in that suspended moment, the familiar wave of tenderness washed over me – the unwavering way Levi always prioritized my safety, even above his own pleasure. And in that instant, a rebellious desire flickered within me, a yearning to push past those careful boundaries, to be taken with an unrestrained passion. Damn, this is definitely something to explore in future… scenarios.

“Levi, I’m fine,” I insisted, my voice a little breathless. “I know my body. I can move.” And without waiting for him, I resumed my slow descent. Levi didn’t protest further, though I felt a slight hesitation in his initial grip before his hands eased their hold on my hips. Instead, they slid lower, cupping my bare buttocks. Then, a new sensation – the sharp, delicious drag of his fingernails lightly raking across my skin, leaving fiery trails in their wake. The combined heat, the intense friction of him filling me, the tantalizing sting of his touch… it was enough to push me past the final barrier. With a gasp, I took him fully inside, the stretch almost unbearable, a tight ache that resonated deep within my core.

I remained still for a breathless moment, allowing my body to fully accommodate. Then, with a low groan that rumbled against my chest, Levi began to move, his hips bucking gently against mine, initiating a slow rhythm that promised a long and intensely pleasurable ride.

Intrusion of his phone shattered the room once more. With a frustrated growl, Levi snatched it up, pinning it between his ear and shoulder, his thumb still tracing insistent circles on my buttock. “Explain it better,” he commanded into the phone. He listened intently, his gaze fixed on mine, a silent apology flickering in his eyes.

“Hm… Hm…” His brows furrowed deeper, lines of concentration etching themselves onto his forehead. “Bribery or corruption? Which scenario presents the higher probability?

“Got it. I will personally call the secretary and ensure that matter is addressed immediately,” Levi said, his jaw tight as he finally silenced his phone, tossing it onto the nightstand with a muted thud. “It appears the riot, in its rather… theatrical fashion, was sparked by a prolonged and inexcusable water leak in one of the residential sectors, unresolved for over two weeks. That explains the rather visceral desire to introduce the mayor to the finer points of mob justice.” A dark look crossed his features. “Ah, Raphael, I sincerely hope that particular imbecile did not attempt to solicit a private firm for a little… quid pro quo regarding the repairs. Because if even the faintest whiff of bribery reaches my ears… well, even divine intervention wouldn’t be sufficient to shield him from my rather… direct form of accountability.”

“A water leak?” I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice. “That’s the cause of all this… this rage?”

Levi’s jaw tightened again, a muscle flexing in his cheek. “They are absolutely right to be enraged, Raphael. A significant residential area has been flooded, submerged in a deluge of raw sewage, and they’ve been without clean water for far too long. Now, I need to rectify this… swiftly.” He met my gaze. “You continue, my dear. Don’t worry about the sounds you make.” He then turned his attention to his phone, already dialing a number.

Well, if he’s giving me permission to be loud, then by all means. I picked up my pace, becoming more urgent, more demanding.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Levi growled into the phone, his hands tightening on my hips as I rode him harder. “You tell that pathetic excuse for a public servant, that if even a whisper of bribery, a single coin exchanged under the table regarding this water crisis reaches my ears, I will personally descend upon that so-called safe house and drag his miserable carcass through that very residential area, ensuring he gets a firsthand experience of the filth his negligence has wrought.”

Damn. My husband had a way with words. A low chuckle escaped my lips, a mixture of arousal and grim amusement.

“So?” Levi growled into the phone, his hands tightening on my hips, his body tensing beneath me. “That is his pathetic excuse? Ugh!” A vein throbbed in his temple. “You tell that spineless excuse for a leader to do his damn job and take care of that flood immediately, or I will personally ensure that the citizens’ current desire to eat him alive becomes a reality. Furthermore,” he continued, “make absolutely certain he addresses this egregious negligence directly in the statement he is giving right now. A sincere and comprehensive apology is the only sliver of hope he has of quelling this riot.”

Well… at least it wasn’t bribery.

He finally clicked off his phone, his gaze returning to mine, dark and intense. “Raphael,” he said, his hands tightening on my hips. “Move faster, dear, and give us both some much-needed release before this entire city implodes. Or,” he added, a hint of playful mischief in his eyes, “allow me to take the reins and pick up the pace. Because I assure you, another series of rather… urgent phone calls is already queuing in my mind.”

One minute he's threatening to drag a mayor through sewage, the next he's demanding I ride him faster.

“No, no,” I gasped, my movements growing more frantic, my muscles clenching around him. “I’ve got this. You just… you do what you need to do. Besides,” I leaned in close, my lips brushing against his ear, “your… radiating fury is having a rather… stimulating effect on me.”

“Is that so?” Levi murmured, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “It seems my tyranny is appreciated by at least one discerning individual.” His hand left my hip to deliver a sharp spank to my bare buttock. I hadn't realized how much I’d needed that. Without missing a beat, he reached for his phone again.

“Instead of deploying your officers to further antagonize already traumatized citizens, you have another, far more pressing duty,” Levi commanded into the phone. “Deploy every available unit to the affected residential area immediately. Their priority is to assist with the cleanup, to provide aid and support to those who have lost their homes and belongings. At least,” he added, a sardonic edge to his tone, “you and your… unique brand of brutality might actually garner some positive public relations out of this for once.”

Leave it to Levi to simultaneously deliver a scathing insult, issue a direct command, and strategically plan the deployment of law enforcement, all while I was still riding him.

He finally silenced his phone, his dark eyes locking onto mine, a primal intensity blazing within them. His hands tightened on my hips, his thumbs digging into the small of my back. “Hm…” he murmured, all business now forgotten. “I find I have a far more… pressing matter to attend to.”

The slow burn was over. He began to thrust into me, a merciless pace that stole my breath and sent shockwaves of pure sensation through my body. It was exactly what I craved.

The frantic pace, the deep, relentless thrusts… it pushed me over the edge. A strangled cry escaped my lips as wave after wave of pure sensation washed over me, my muscles clenching around him, slick with my release, the evidence of my climax dripping down his thighs and onto the bed-sheets. But Levi… Levi was still there, his movements unwavering, his own release still a distant promise.

“Levi…” I gasped, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm. “Just… slow down for a second…”

He responded instantly, his powerful body stilling within mine. “Do not move, dear,” he murmured against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. “Just breathe. Know this, however… I am far from finished.” He gently rolled me onto my side, spooning my body against his. He resumed his movements, but the brutal intensity had been replaced by a slow tempo.

He retrieved his phone, placing it within my reach. “The moment it rings, dear, give it to me,” he murmured. Then he grasped my leg, lifting it and draping it over his hip, angling my body to give him deeper access and greater freedom of movement. His thrusts, though still deep, remained glacial and incredibly gentle tempo.

His breath hitched softly against my neck. A soft moan escaped my lips, filled with a languid pleasure that was almost overwhelming.

He nuzzled the back of my neck, his lips brushing against my skin. “Easy, dear,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my spine.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“So…” I murmured, a hint of surprise coloring my tone. “You… enjoy being gentle...”

“I do,” he confirmed, a hint of a smile in his tone. He punctuated the affirmation with a tender kiss on my shoulder, the warmth of his lips seeping into my skin. Damn… that small, seemingly insignificant gesture. It was like a spark igniting dry tinder, making my muscles clench around him.

“Did your little… experiment,” I asked, my voice still a little breathless, recalling our recent exploration of his desires, “regarding… different expressions of intimacy… did it come to an end just now?”

“Hm, no, not entirely... But I do find a particular… satisfaction… in being affectionate with you, in this way.”

That low whisper, combined with the gentle rhythm of his body, was pure torture. I could feel myself softening, on the verge of completely melting into him.

Just as another wave of pleasure began to build within me, Levi began to deepen his thrusts, his gentle rhythm gradually escalating. I could feel the shift in his body, the subtle tightening of his muscles, the quickening of his breath. He was close, so close. A silent prayer formed in my mind, for this man, to finally find some release, for that damn phone to remain silent just a little longer.

“Pulla,” he murmured against the sensitive curve of my neck, his breath warm and slightly ragged. “You are so incredibly soft today.”

“Levi…” I breathed out, my body tightening, the edge of my orgasm tantalizingly close.

“My Pulla is always so exquisitely good at taking me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his thrusts deepening, each one a profound connection. I arched my hips, wanting to give him even more, wanting to feel him even deeper within me, wanting to hear more of those precious words.

“You want to hear more?”

“Yes…” I managed, my voice a shaky whisper, muscles tightening in anticipation.

“You need to talk to me more, don’t you, Pulla, hm?”

“Y-You…” The words felt thick and clumsy on my tongue. “L-Levi…” Damn it, Raphael. Just say it. It’s not that hard. “I… I like it… when you’re inside me.”

There. I’d managed a pathetic, stammering admission. Damn you, Raphael. Just minutes ago you were shamelessly fingering yourself, then riding him like a wild thing, but you can’t even open your mouth and tell him you like his magnificent cock impaling you? What is wrong with you?

“My dearest,” Levi murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice, “you clenched so tightly just then, I almost feared for my circulation.” He punctuated the teasing with a tender kiss on my shoulder. “And I, Pulla, found myself rather enjoying being inside you as well.” The rhythm of his movements began to deepen, the pace quickening. “It is so incredibly warm…” he continued, his breath growing ragged. “It feels… as if you were divinely crafted, molded by the gods themselves, Raphael, perfectly, irrevocably, just for me.”

Damn his poetic mouth. The unmistakable prelude to another, even more intense orgasm was threatening to erupt.

“I… am so close.”

Levi thrusts became shorter, sharper, his breath mirroring my own ragged gasps. His head fell forward, his teeth grazing my skin. With a guttural cry, he shattered, his body convulsing against mine as he poured himself into me.

The wave hit me moments after his release, a tidal surge of pure sensation that ripped through my body. My own cries mingled with his ragged gasps, my muscles clenching uncontrollably around him. We were locked together, a single entity caught in the throes of mutual ecstasy. The world outside, the riots, the mayor, the endless phone calls, faded into a distant hum as we clung to each other, spent and sated in the aftermath. His grip on my hips gradually loosened, his breathing evening out, but he remained deeply embedded within me, a comforting weight against my back.

“My Pulla, you took me so exquisitely well,” he murmured, the possessive endearment sending a fresh wave of warmth through me. For some reason, that ancient Ascarian word for rabbit, a name he’d bestowed upon me long ago, was having an increasingly potent effect. I realized he’d been using it more frequently during our intimate moments lately, and my subconscious had clearly made the connection. Damn him.

He had trained me so thoroughly, so deliciously well.

“Is this why you call me Pulla?” I asked, my voice still softened by the afterglow, a playful lilt in my tone. “Because I’ve become a good little rabbit… always eager to please you?”

“No,” he murmured. “Not just that. It’s because you often finish first, swept away by your desire, never quite waiting for me, impulsive and driven like a rabbit in spring. You can be skittish, easily startled, and possess a certain endearing naiveté. Also,” he continued, stroking the hair at the nape of my neck, “your hair is incredibly soft, and you always smell of sunshine. And lastly,” he concluded, his embrace tightening slightly, “you are so incredibly soft. Inside and out.”

Gods, that’s… unexpectedly sweet.

“Levi…” I breathed, a curious frown creasing my brow. “What exactly do you mean by ‘inside and out’?”

“Ah, this is what I meant by ‘inside’,” he murmured, as he thrusted deeper within me, stealing the remaining air from my lungs. Fuck… Just moments ago he’d painted such a tender picture, making my chest flutter with unexpected affection, only to revert to this blatant tease.

“What about the outside then?” I asked, my voice a little breathless, anticipating his answer.

He withdrew slightly, his fingers tracing circles on my abdomen, the light pressure raising every single hair in its wake. “Ah, the outside,” he murmured, his gaze intense. “Your skin… it possesses the flawless quality of polished marble, the way it catches the light, yet it is anything but cold. It’s incredibly soft to the touch, yielding and warm, like holding captured sunlight.”

Gods, sometimes he takes my breath away with these unexpected moments of tenderness.

“Damn your poetic mouth, Levi,” I breathed, a warm blush creeping up my ears, across my chest, the nape of my neck, spreading like wildfire everywhere.

“If every tree that ever stood were felled and turned to parchment, and every ocean that ever swelled were distilled to ink, and if those endless pages could somehow capture even a sliver of the fervent appreciation that burns within me for you, they would collectively cry out to the heavens, beseeching the gods for a voice strong enough, a path clear enough, to finally whisper its immensity into your ears.”

It’s so over-the-top, so dramatic, so utterly Levi. And yet… it doesn’t feel insincere. I don’t know what to say. How do you respond to something like that?

“Levi…” I breathed, still slightly stunned. “Did you really… just come up with all that? It was… surprisingly sweet. Thank you.”

“My dearest Raphael,” he murmured, his fingers now tracing the line of my jaw. “Do you honestly believe I would resort to quoting some trite, pedestrian poetry anthology for you? Please. Yes, I simply conjured that. Decades of voraciously devouring countless volumes and the rather exorbitant cost of a noble education must be good for something, after all, wouldn’t you agree?”

Yes!

I think I actually nailed it. A state-of-the-art, incredibly rare fountain pen, nestled beside a supple, high-quality leather notebook. His study was already overflowing with books. And while he certainly loved to talk, to debate, to expound on his latest discoveries, I had a feeling he’d also find a quiet satisfaction in putting his own thoughts down on paper. Yes, I fucking found it. The perfect anniversary gift.

“Levi,” I said, a triumphant note lacing my voice, a smug little smile playing on my lips. “Our anniversary is just around the corner. Did you… happen to be brewing something special for the occasion, hmm?”

“Yes, my Pulla. Something is brewing, though it requires a certain… patience. However, I have a feeling it will be well worth the wait. But,” he added, his gaze softening, “the honor of selecting the place and the precise date rests with you, dear. After all,” he murmured, reaching out to gently stroke my cheek, “this anniversary… it’s going to be our first real date, isn't it?”

Gods… a whole year. One year of navigating marriage with Levi Blake, the enigmatic Saint of Ascaria. And now… a real date. His understanding of modern courtship was likely gleaned from ancient tomes and dusty historical accounts. How the hell do you even date Levi Blake? Where in the world do you take a man who commands a city, who’s revered as a saint, and whose idea of a casual outing probably involves a private viewing at a museum followed by a discreet dinner with dignitaries? And now, with his sobriety, the usual distractions felt… wrong.

“I need to plan. Now.” I pushed against his chest. “Get your magnificent… self… out of me. We only have a week! Damn it, I need to strategize, immediately.” But a sliver of my earlier excitement remained. “For the sake of my rapidly forming date plans, though… tell me about your gift. Is it something… big? Or small?”

“Hm…” he murmured, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he began to withdraw slowly. “Small.”

“Okay, okay…” I repeated, my mind already racing, trying to reconcile "small" with "Levi Blake's idea of small." I helped him slide out completely, the sudden absence leaving a cool sensation in its wake, quickly overshadowed by the burgeoning logistical nightmare of planning our first real date.

Just as a rare moment of quiet settled over Levi as he observed my frantic pacing across the room, his phone shattered the stillness with its insistent buzz.

“Dearest, I will need to take this in my study.”

Right. First order of business. The gift.

The state-of-the-art, rare fountain pen was a definite yes. But then, a true stroke of brilliance, began to take root in my mind. Months ago, during that tumultuous period of distance, when I’d practically fled him for three months… in a moment of pure, impulsive defiance, I’d proposed. To become Levi Everett, taking my name. He’d actually seemed to relish the idea. So. That’s it. That’s the touch. I’ll have “Levi Everett” engraved on the fountain pen. He wants a taste of a life unburdened by his title? He’s going to get it, one elegant stroke at a time.

Fucking brilliant, Raphael. Utterly brilliant. Now I finally understand that almost cerebral ecstasy that washed over Levi when he spearheaded the currency reform. This… this feels the same. A rush of pure intellectual satisfaction. Then, the leather notebook. And on the very first page, a note, heartfelt and genuine. Yes. This is coming together beautifully. I snatched up my tablet, my fingers flying across the screen as I searched for that fountain pen. Motherfucking hell! What in the actual fuck are these prices? And… waiting lists? Waiting lists… for a pen? A bloody PEN!

Can I… expedite this somehow? Pull some strings? Bribe someone? No, no, no. Levi would likely have my head on a platter for such blatant corruption, even for his anniversary gift. Wait… maybe not. He might actually call it strategic resource allocation. Gods. A waiting list. For a fucking pen.

A truly reputable fountain pen seems to be out of the immediate question. Unless… unless I buy a decent placeholder now, and then swap it with the real, engraved masterpiece when he’s… distracted? No. Absolutely not. This is Levi we’re talking about. The man is bloodhound when it comes to details, especially where I’m concerned. He’d sniff out a switched pen before the ink even dried.

Yes, utter foolishness. A whole month I had and I'm scrambling a week before. With a sigh of resignation, I conceded defeat to the tyranny of waiting lists. I ordered a perfectly respectable, classic black fountain pen, ensuring the "Levi Everett" engraving was elegant. Next anniversary, I vowed, the gift would be planned with military precision. I also secured a beautiful, high-quality leather notebook, the pages thick and creamy, promising a luxurious writing experience. The gifting was… adequate. Now. The truly terrifying part.

The actual date.

Museum? The thought alone threatened to induce a coma. My brain would likely stage a full-scale rebellion against such enforced stillness. Dinner? Absolutely out of the question. Bland mush was the culinary highlight of his day, and even mashed potatoes required a monumental effort. And then there was the sobriety. He might downplay it as an “experiment,” but the idea of clinking glasses of wine next to him felt disrespectful. How in the seven hells do you date Levi Blake? Do I drag him to a movie? I loved the escapism of cinema, but Levi’s knowledge of the silver screen likely ended with grainy historical documentaries. Hm… What about the opera? A refined ballet recital? Raphael, get a grip! What am I thinking, trying to morph into some sophisticated socialite when my own personal idea of a perfect date involves cheap beer, loud music, and gloriously rough sex?

The absolute worst part of this entire endeavor was the inescapable need for disguises, and switching to normal cars, instead of Levi's armored vans. Our faces were far too recognizable to simply stroll into some dive bar for cheap beer and raucous conversation, to yell drunken pleasantries at bewildered strangers like reasonably adjusted adults. Damn it all to hell. How in the actual fuck do you date Levi Blake?

First things first, a scalding hot shower to wash away the lingering stickiness of Levi’s… enthusiasm. Maybe the rush of water would also unclog the mental dam that was preventing any decent date ideas from flowing. I lathered myself in that ridiculously sweet strawberry shower gel – Levi’s guilty pleasure, not mine – and started scrubbing with more vigor than strictly necessary. And it hit me. A reputable chocolatier. Not some run-of-the-mill bakery, no. A place that curated decadent sweet indulgences from every corner of the globe. Yes. That was it. Thank you, strawberry shower gel, and thank you, Levi’s sweet tooth, for finally sparking an idea.

But then what? We’d indulge in exquisite sweets, exchange carefully chosen gifts… and then? Gods, why was I even bothering to overthink this? Of course we’d fuck. Probably spectacularly. Well… I think the date itself was also unofficially settled. I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a plush bathrobe, and collapsed onto the bed. Grabbing my tablet, I began to search for reputable chocolatiers in capital. Oh… No… No… The reservation. FUCK!

“I am so sorry. So incredibly sorry, Levi…” I muttered to the empty room, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I needed to… I had to… leverage his influence, to secure us a damn table. Gods… the thought made me feel grimy. But I was out of options. Saint of Ascaria, would be making a reservation for next week at a reputable chocolatier, one that offered not just truffles and bonbons, but small plates and inventive sweet pairings. I cringed. “I am so, so sorry, Levi…”

A monumental tip. Yes. Every single person working that night would be handsomely compensated for the… unconventional method of securing our reservation. I took a deep breath and dialed the chocolatier’s number. I explained it was our anniversary, that I desperately needed a table for next Saturday… and then, something completely unexpected happened. The woman on the other end of the line practically vibrated with excitement. “Mr. Blake is coming to visit us again? Oh, sir, this is wonderful news! Congratulations on your anniversary!”

Well, this is… unexpected. And kind of sweet, in a weird way. Okay, guilt averted. Ginormous tip still happening, though.