LEVI'S POV
The silence that followed my request was charged with an electricity that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I could almost feel her excitement, taste it, smell it. She's always so eager to please me, and she does it so well. She pleases me too much—I almost lose my mind most times.
As I imagined her moving to comply, my mind began to race with possibilities, each one more intoxicating than the last.
As I waited, the night around me seemed to hold its breath, the stars above blinking down as if they, too, were caught up in this moment between us. My heart pounded in my chest, the anticipation coiling tight within me. This was more than a game, more than a simple exchange of words—it was a connection, a bond that was growing stronger with every breath, every whispered word, and every lie.
And as I stood there under the vast expanse of the night sky, the cool breeze brushing against my skin, I waited for Isabella's response. My breath was steady, controlled, but inside, my pulse was a wild drumbeat, echoing the truth I could no longer deny: I was already lost to her. Whatever she sent, whatever she did next, I was hers as much as she was mine, and I knew, with a certainty that ran bone-deep, that there could be no one else for me.
My phone beeped, the sound jolting through the quiet night like a shot of adrenaline. I swiped the screen, and there she was—Isabella, captured in a moment of raw, unfiltered desire.
She sat on her sink, her body completely bare, her left hand braced against the cool porcelain while her right hand trailed down, touching herself in a way that made my breath hitch. Her legs were slightly parted, just enough to offer a glimpse of the heat between her thighs, and the way her breasts were separated by the angle of her arms made my mouth go dry. Her nipples, flushed a delicate pink, stood at attention, as if they were begging for my touch.
It reminded me of the night I spent with her as Levi. The memory made my brain turn to mush. My heart almost exploded.
But it wasn't just her body that held me captive. No, it was much more.
Behind her, on the mirror, she had written something in red lipstick, the letters bold and unmistakable against the reflective surface. The words were like a punch to the gut, sending a bolt of lust straight to my core: "I want you, Mr. L."
With this, she had summoned all of me—Levi and Mr. L. Double personality, double desire, one woman.
The sight of her, the way she had positioned herself so perfectly, and those words—those damning, provocative words—sent a surge of heat through me so intense I could barely think. I was so close to losing control that I couldn't help myself. My hand dropped to my trousers, unzipping them with a shaky urgency that belied the calm exterior I usually maintained.
I freed my long cock, already hard and aching, and as I brought it out, the cold night air kissed the sensitive tip, sending a shiver up my spine.
I zoomed in on her picture, my eyes drinking in every detail—the arch of her back, the way her hair tumbled over her shoulders in wild, untamed waves, and those eyes, half-lidded with desire, that seemed to be staring right into my soul. My thumb brushed over the screen, tracing the curve of her hip, the soft swell of her breasts, and I imagined my hands on her, my fingers digging into her flesh, marking her as mine.
The sensation was almost too much. My grip tightened around my cock, and I began to stroke it, slowly at first, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat. The pleasure built steadily, each movement sending a jolt of ecstasy through me, heightening my arousal until it was a raging fire, threatening to consume me whole.
Her nipples, so pink and hard, practically begged for attention, and my mind conjured up images of what I would do if she were here—how I would take those peaks into my mouth, sucking and biting until she writhed beneath me, moaning my name. The thought sent a wave of pleasure crashing over me, and I increased my pace, my strokes becoming more frantic as I chased the release that was hovering just out of reach.
And then my eyes fell on the words again: "I want you, Mr. L."
That was all it took. My body tensed, every muscle tightening as the pleasure reached its peak. I groaned, the sound low and guttural, as I came hard, my release splattering against the cold tiles of the balcony. My free hand braced against the railing as I moaned her name, the sound echoing into the night, raw and filled with the intensity of what I was feeling.
For a moment, I just stood there, my breath coming in heavy pants as the last tremors of my orgasm subsided. My phone was still in my hand, the image of Isabella's naked form burned into my memory. She had claimed me, marked me in a way that went beyond physical touch, and I knew there was no going back.
I wanted her, needed her, more than I had ever needed anything in my life. And the thought of seeing her, of touching her, of claiming her in every way possible, sent another wave of anticipation crashing over me. This wasn't just a game anymore; this was something deeper, something primal that I couldn't escape.
And I didn't want to.
With one final look at her picture, I tucked myself back into my trousers and wiped the sweat from my brow. The night was quiet again, the stars above indifferent to the storm that had just passed through me. But inside, I was still burning, still aching for her.
Isabella had started something tonight, something that wouldn't end until I had her—completely, utterly, irrevocably. And when that moment came, when I finally had her in my arms, there would be no holding back.
I sent her a quick message, my fingers trembling slightly as I typed: "You'll pay for driving me crazy tonight, Isabella. Be ready."
As I hit send, a slow smile spread across my lips. Whatever happened next, I knew one thing for certain: Isabella was mine, and nothing would stand in the way of what was to come.
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