---------------------------
Authors Notes: Dear Readers, Thanks so much for joining me on this adventure! Your enthusiasm, feedback, and encouragement really keep me motivated to keep bringing *Supreme Spouse System* into existence. If you’re loving the Chapters, I’d love it if you Enjoy reading on NovelHub - your free online novel platform. I look forward to hearing your ideas and thoughts, so please don’t hesitate to share!
Creator of Supreme Spouse System
The moonlight gently filtered through the tall arched windows, casting a silvery sheen across Cynthia’s and Leon’s skin. As he broke from the kiss, Leon lingered just long enough to look into her face, his breath blending with hers.
She Still in his arms, Cynthia remained motionless—her wide black eyes reflecting surprise, her cheeks flushed with a vivid blush. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, as though she’d forgotten how to breathe.
Her body refused to respond. Her thoughts, once coherent, now scattered like leaves in a storm. Had that truly just happened?
Leon laughed low, a rasping, amused sound that vibrated against her mouth. His fingers squeezed around her waist, pulling her towards him, pinning her into him. He could feel every inch of her—her soft shape, the softness of her flesh, the slight tremble that swept along her thighs, and the light press of her chest against his own. Her heartbeat pounded against his fingers.
As his single arm continued to hold her anchored to him, his other hand crept up slowly to push a wayward strand of dark hair behind her ear. His fingers mapped the curve of her cheek with a gentleness that hung suspended in the air.
Her skin shivered at the light touch, her body reacting in ways she couldn’t control.
That slight, nearly unconscious movement broke through her trance. Her gaze flared up, and there he was—his face inches from hers. His golden eyes shone with a mischievous spark, and his breath purred against her lips.
"Still processing, little priestess?" he whispered, his tone low and teasing.
She came to a stop, her breath stuck in her throat. Her cheeks flushed a bright red as the distance between them diminished. Her big black eyes met his, and all she could sense was the thud of her heart.
He leaned in closer, his thumb stroking the lower curve of her lip, slow and on purpose. "So cute..." he breathed, his voice dark with intent. "And so mine."
Her lips parted, eyelashes fluttering like leaves on the breeze. His voice sent a shiver through her—first to her breast, then down, where the pain rooted and flowered. Her heart sounded like a drum in a silent room.
And then it occurred to her.
He kissed me. He actually kissed me.
But—her brows furrowed, frustration rising up within her—she hadn’t reciprocated. She hadn’t kissed him in return. Not even a graze.
Idiot, she reprimanded herself. You went stiff. Your first kiss and you just. stood there like a statue! What will he think of you now? That you didn’t feel it? That you didn’t want it?
Her gaze darted up to him, uncertain and wary, looking for a glimpse of what he was thinking—fear seeping in with each passing second of silence.
But before her mind could spin out of control, a sharp pressure on her hips caused her to gasp.
She looked up, mouth agape in shock, eyes wide as he looked back at her, grinning like the wolf he was.
"What are you thinking about, my dear?" Leon asked suavely, still holding her hips.
She flushed further, the red spreading to her ears.
She swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts together. She had to say something. She had to explain. "I-It’s. it’s my first kiss," she finally blurted out, her voice shaking. Her fingers nervously wrung the material of own dress, trying to find something to grasp onto.
"And I. I just blanked..." she finished, her chest heaving in embarrassment. She felt the blush rise on her face, shame creeping at the fringes of her mind.
She paused, her eyes wide and vulnerable as she looked up at him. "And I don’t want you to think. that I didn’t want to kiss you," she whispered, a touch of insecurity creeping into her voice. "It’s just. it was all so sudden. I didn’t know what to do."
Leon blinked, obviously digesting her words. His lips curled into a gentle, amused smile—
Leon blinked— on her word and how then laughed softly, with a warmth that didn’t mock, but delighted in her innocence.
Cynthia furrowed her brow, perplexed by the sound of it. Was he laughing at her? At how she was reacting?
"Just that?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Then I’ll kiss you again."
Before she could answer, he leans toward her and his mouth claimed hers.
This time, the kiss was not soft or gentle anymore—it was deeper, sensual.
As He lapped at her top lip, slow and deep, and Cynthia’s eyes opened wide in shock before fluttering closed, her heart pounding in her chest. Her body shuddered in reaction.
Resolved not to make the same mistake as before, she hesitantly sucked on his lower lip, awkward but genuine, Leon let out a contented growl, a sound that sent her pulse racing. Then his tongue slid into her mouth, hot and insistent, it urged hers to follow with his. She gasped softly, startled by the invasion—but she attempted. Her tongue stroking against his shyly, awkwardly, clumsily.
The kiss became sloppy, wet, and loud, but they didn’t care. It became deeper with every second, until Cynthia was panting, fingers grasping his shoulder reflexively. Her soft little moans escaped against his mouth as his hands wandered freely—cupping her hips, squeezing them with firm, claiming pressure.
She broke the kiss first with a gasp, but before she could even inhale, he took her mouth again, groaning into the kiss like he couldn’t get enough.
Finally, their lips parted with a wet pop, a strand of saliva connecting them. Cynthia leaned slightly against his chest, dazed, face flushed, her lips swollen and her breathing ragged.
Leon gazed down at her breathless —his golden eyes black with passion, adrenaline pumping in his veins. His body reacted instinctively. His dick pulsed, hard and insistent, buried under the material of his pants.
He hoisted her from her waist in his arms without speaking.
"Ah—!" she cried out in shock, but she spoke just as Leon caught her mouth half-way through a cry. He kissed her once more, fierce and deep, devouring her shock.
Her thighs braced against his waist before she even knew it, her body molding to his as if it were meant there. She held on to him, soft and yielding, her fingers knotting in the muscle at his shoulders.
Leon moved—slow, measured steps—to the side of the bed. How then He fell onto its bed with her atop him, allowing her weight to settle on his chest. His arms never relinquished her.
They slowly parted from kiss, both panting, and a thin thread of saliva hung between their lips before it snapped.
Cynthia blinked, stunned, attempting to collect her wits—only to become aware of the position she was now sitting on him—her thighs wrapped around his waist, her breasts pressed against his chest. and She could feel it too—something hard and thick pressing against her lower abdomen through his pants.
Her eyes grew wide. Her body froze.
She wasn’t a kid. She knew what it was.
Leon grinned lazily at her reaction, fully aware of the cause of her sudden immobility. Amusement danced in his gold eyes, but underneath, something more existed—something gentle.
Even in that fraught quiet, though, he sensed another thing: the breakable manner in which she quivered in his arms. So light, so fragile—like if he relaxed his grip for a second, she would drift away.
But then he shifted, in one smooth, dominant movement, he rolled and flipped her over beneath him. Cynthia released a soft gasp as her back hit the bed, his weight coming down on her just enough to hold her there.
His body was along hers. Her legs parted a little to take him in. She could feel it all—his bare chest, his heat, the hard line rubbing gently into her clothed center.
"Now, Cynthia," Leon intoned, his voice low and husky, "you are mine. Your body, your soul, your life... Everything yours now is mine."
Her heart stilled—and then began to go haywire.
She parted her lips to talk, but he was already back at it again—slow, claiming, reveling in each gentle contour of her cherry-fresh lips.