His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 509 ★

Warning: R-18

The last cookie vanished from her fingertips into his mouth in one swift, deliberate bite. His lips grazed her skin.

"Mmm... tasty," he rumbled, the word vibrating against her fingers. He didn’t let her pull her hand back, his tongue sweeping over her fingertip to catch a stray crumb. The heat in his eyes had nothing to do with sugar.

In the same motion, his leg hooked behind him, and the bedroom door swung shut with a soft click. His hands, now free, found her hips, sliding up her sides beneath her shirt, his palms hot and demanding against her waist.

"Leo—" she started, but his mouth was already on hers, swallowing her words.

"Oh, God," she moaned into the kiss, a sound of pure surrender. It was deep, languid, and devastating. He tasted like chocolate and vanilla, and it made her greedy. She wanted to devour him in return, to consume the very essence of his hunger.

His hands worked with focused, impatient reverence.

Fabric whispered in protest, then slid over her skin, pooling at her feet until she stood before him in nothing but lace and a flush that painted her from chest to hairline. Her own hands fumbled at his shirt, pushing the material over the hard planes of his shoulders until he helped her, yanking it off and tossing it aside.

He guided her back to the plush couch. Her back met the soft cushions with a sigh that caught in her throat as his body covered hers.

"Ahh..." The sound was punched from her lungs as he settled between her thighs, the hard, insistent ridge of his arousal rocking against the damp lace shielding her core. Pleasure, sharp and sweet, lanced through her. She let her eyes fall shut, giving herself over to the sensation of his weight, his heat, the slow, maddening friction.

His mouth left hers, trailing a line of fire down her neck and sternum. He hooked a finger in the lace of her bra and pulled it down, freeing her breasts to the cool air and his hotter gaze. A soft groan escaped him as he took one peaked nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply, his tongue circling the tight bud. His hand kneaded the other, his thumb brushing back and forth until she was arching off the couch, a continuous, breathy stream of "oh... oh..." falling from her lips.

The lace of her panties was the last barrier. He hooked his thumbs into the sides and drew them down her legs, his gaze following the path of his hands. When they were gone, he didn’t move away. He stayed there, on his knees between her splayed thighs, and let his fingers trail back up the inside of her leg. Then, slowly, deliberately, he slipped a single finger inside her.

His storm-grey eyes, already dark, went utterly black. A low, possessive sound rumbled in his chest.

"You’re so wet for me, bunny," he said, his voice a dark, smoky thing. He held her gaze as he slowly drew his glistening finger out and brought it to his own lips, tasting her. A smirk, both triumphant and feral, touched his mouth. "Dripping."

He stood then, a tower of coiled tension and intent.

Bella lay breathless, watching as he unbuckled his belt, the leather sliding free with a hushed sigh.

He let his eyes rake over her, stretched bare across the cushions, bathed in the low light. His gaze was worship and conquest all at once.

"You look fucking sinful," he breathed, the profanity a rough caress.

Then his voice dropped into a register of pure, dark command. "Spread your legs wide for me. Let me see that pretty, wet pussy."

Bella’s eyes flew wider. A fresh wave of heat, equal parts shock and arousal, flooded her. His filthy, direct words in the throes of passion always sent a jolt through her system.

"Stop overthinking," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for debate. "Sit up. Show me what’s mine."

Swallowing, she pushed herself up on trembling arms, letting her knees fall wider apart, exposing herself completely to his scorching gaze. He nodded, a slow, satisfied dip of his chin.

He turned and walked to a drawer, pulling out a small wooden box. From it, he retrieved a handful of foil packets, letting them fall onto the couch beside her hip. Then he was back, standing before her.

His dark eyes held hers, assessing her flushed face, her heaving chest, the glistening evidence of her need between her thighs. "Unzip me," he said, his voice gravel.

Bella leaned forward, her fingers brushing the heated skin of his hips as she found the tab of his zipper and drew it down the rest of the way.

She glanced up through her lashes. He brought a hand to her head, his fingers threading into her hair with a gentleness that belied the intensity in his eyes.

"Good girl," he praised, the words a rumble. "Now take them off."

She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and briefs and pushed them down over the hard curve of his hips. They fell to his knees, and his cock, freed, sprang forward. The flushed, broad head nudged against her cheek, and she felt a blush burn its way across her skin. Leo looked down, his expression one of stark, raw hunger. The storm in his eyes was here, now, and she was its willing center.

"This too," he said, his voice taut, nodding toward the last bit of fabric tangled at his feet.

"O... okay," she whispered. She leaned further, helping him step out of the clothing until he was as naked as she was.

He was magnificent, all power and restrained force.

"Help me wear it," he commanded, nodding toward the condom.

With trembling hands, Bella picked up a foil square.

She tore it open, the sound crinkling in the silent, charged space between them. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for him. Her small hand wrapped around his thick length, and she heard his sharp intake of air. She rolled the latex down slowly, her touch unsure but achingly intimate.

Leo threw his head back, a tendon standing out in his neck. A harsh groan tore from his lips as her fingers brushed and sheathed him. When she was done, he looked down at her, his chest heaving, his eyes holding a universe of need.