Sandra felt Leon's hands on her ass as he squeezed and pulled them apart. A shudder rolled through her as his breath fanned warm against her ear, each exhale sending ripples of heat down her neck.
She pressed her hands weakly against his chest, a half-hearted attempt to push him away. But even as she did, a strange heat spread through her body, leaving her breath shallow and uneven. Her nipples tightened, aching against the cool air, and the unfamiliar sensation sent shivers racing along her skin.
Leon felt her ragged breath feather against his shoulder, hot and uneven, betraying the storm raging inside her. Her body trembled under his touch, her nipples straining through the fabric of her dress, and he knew—she was aroused.
A slow grin tugged at his lips. He had been wrong. At first, he thought the women of this world were modest, cold, bound by rules and propriety. But now, feeling Sandra melt in his arms with nothing more than a squeeze, he understood. They weren't indifferent to desire—they were starved of it.
It wasn't that women here didn't want; it was that they had never been shown how. Kept in ignorance, unexposed, they lived in a constant quiet heat, with time it became a normality, their desire laying dormant.
Men were the problem, they were too focused on everything else except their women.
But this was good for him; he will be their savior from stupid men who did not know what they were missing.
A faint, almost daring smile touched his lips as he leaned closer.
"It feels nice… touching you," he murmured, the words low, uncertain, yet brimming with raw honesty.
"Really?" she asked in a hushed voice, almost afraid of her own question.
She didn't understand what was happening to her. From the moment his arms closed around her, something unfamiliar had stirred inside. Her heart raced wildly, betraying her attempts to stay composed. Even her husband, with all the years they had shared, had never made her feel this way—this alive, this wanted.
She stood suspended between two worlds: the safe familiarity of what she knew, and the dangerous pull of what she shouldn't want. Her mind whispered of betrayal, of boundaries she dared not cross… yet her body leaned ever so slightly toward him, betraying her secret longing.
"Yes, especially touching you out here in the open," Leon reminded her.
Sandra blinked, his words breaking through the haze clouding her mind. Reality slammed back into her. She shoved him away, harder than she meant to, her chest rising and falling as her breath caught.
Her eyes darted around the quiet path, every shadow and whisper of wind suddenly suspicious. What if someone had seen? The very thought made her cheeks blaze hotter, the flush spreading all the way to her ears.
"Leon," she breathed, the name catching in her throat. "I am married, we cannot do this like that in the open—okay?"
Her words came out sharp, but her trembling hands betrayed her.
Leon watched her with amusement, the corner of his mouth curving into a knowing smile. He didn't move closer, not yet—he only tilted his head, studying the way her lashes fluttered and her chest rose in a rhythm.
"So we can do it if we are alone?" he asked teasingly.
Looking at the stupid grin on his face, she stuck out her tongue and bent to pick up her pot.
"You're impossible," she muttered, avoiding his eyes. The flush on her cheeks refused to fade, no matter how she tried to hide it behind annoyance.
She was too adorable like this, and Leon couldn't help noticing how different her character was from the likes of Melina or even his mother. She was more open and she liked to tease.
He followed behind, his gaze shamelessly fixed on the sway of her hips. He knew under that dress she wore nothing at all, and the thought alone was enough to make his throat dry. Every time the wind caught the hem and lifted it up to her knees, his imagination filled in the rest—how easily that breeze could bare her completely to him.
Sandra felt Leon's gaze on her; she loved the attention, though she would never admit it aloud. His gaze carried a weight that made her skin tingle, hot and restless beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
It was bold, shameless… yet it stirred something in her that no one else's eyes ever had.
So she decided to tease him a little. With deliberate slowness, Sandra bent down, the hem of her dress shifting as she gave her hips a subtle shake.
Leon's eyes widened, his pulse quickening. He could not believe it—clearly, she was teasing him. The sway of her big ass filled his vision, the curve of her body making his imagination run wild.
Sandra smirked to herself, still facing away. She lingered in that bent position just a heartbeat longer than necessary, pretending to fuss with the pot as if struggling with its weight. When she finally straightened, she brushed her dress down with both hands, her movements slow and deliberate.
His dick stiffened as blood rushed through his body, making him groan in frustration.
"You are teasing me?" he muttered through clenched teeth. "You should be punished for being naughty—Aunt."
Sandra tilted her head and flashed him an almost angelic smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Punished?" she echoed sweetly, as though she didn't understand the weight of her own words. "And how should I be punished, hmm?"
Her voice carried that same innocent lilt, but her deliberate sway as she shifted the pot from one hip to the other betrayed her game.
Leon swallowed hard, his mind racing with a dozen wicked answers. She was daring him, testing how far he'd go, how much control he had left.
Her teasing words were the final straw. Leon's restraint shattered.
With a sudden step, he closed the gap between them, his hand shooting out to grip her wrist before she could turn away again. The pot wobbled dangerously in her other hand as she gasped, her body stiffening when she felt the heat of him so close.
"You think this is a game?" he growled softly, his breath brushing her ear. "Keep smiling at me like that, and I'll make sure you never forget what punishment feels like."
Sandra's lips parted, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. From the moment Leon had touched her ass, she had wanted more. The memory alone sent heat curling low in her belly.
"Sandra, bend down." His voice came out as a growl, commanding and raw.
The words stung with disrespect, yet something inside her shivered in response. She should have been outraged—should have snapped at him, scolded him, walked away. But instead… she felt a deep, dangerous need to obey.
Not even her husband had ever made her feel this way. Not even once.
"Leon… don't talk to me like that," she whispered, her tone weak, unconvincing even to herself. Her knees wavered as though her body was betraying her words, and her gaze flicked away, afraid he'd read the truth in her eyes.
And yet… she didn't move, didn't run, didn't push him back.
With a slow, trembling breath, Sandra bent forward, her grip tightening on the pot as though it might steady her. Every motion was deliberate, hesitant, but undeniable—an unspoken admission that she was waiting for him, bracing herself for whatever Leon had planned.
Her ears rang with the pounding of her heart, her lips dry as she tried not to look back at him. A strange mix of fear and anticipation coursed through her veins, each beat making her feel more alive than she'd ever felt in years.
Leon's breath hitched as he watched her bending over. This was the third woman who was slowly submitting to him. He now understood these women were deprived even basic attention, for years they were treated like tools discarded after use, this made them crave for attention and they will do anything to get it.
Leon's breath hitched as he watched her bending over, her body trembling between resistance and surrender. This was the third woman to slowly submit to him, and the truth of it struck him with clarity.
He now understood—these women were deprived. Starved of even the most basic affection, treated for years like tools, like objects to be discarded once their use was done. It wasn't just desire that burned in them, it was hunger. A hunger for touch, for attention, for someone to see them not as servants or wives bound by duty, but as women.
And Sandra… she was no different.
He slowly reached down and lifted her dress, inch by inch, until the cool air brushed against her ample buttocks.
Her hands gripped the pot so tightly her knuckles whitened, the only thing keeping her grounded as the sensation of being laid bare clawed at her.
A shiver ran down her spine—not entirely from fear.
"Leon…" she whispered, her voice trembling, uncertain whether it was meant as a protest or a plea.
The weight of his gaze pressed on her, hotter than the sun on her skin. Every second he lingered made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in years—vulnerable, wanted, and dangerously alive.
"Am going to punish you now—Aunt."