Supreme Spouse System.
Chapter 251: Nova’s First Time

Chapter 251: Nova’s First Time

Nova’s First Time

Leon loomed over her, his golden eyes fixed on hers, the rise and fall of his chest slow and even as it brushed against the bare skin of her torso. The robe that had hugged his shoulders was now bent askew, revealing the chiseled muscles of his chest, his skin still warm with the lingering heat of passion. He wasn’t pinning her to the mattress beneath him, but the weight of his body held her firmly in place—real, earthy, and inescapably intimate.

Nova’s own breathing caught, a small gasp defying the thump of emotion racing through her. He was touching her with every inch of himself—his heat, his solidity, the irrefutable ruggedness of his body against her own. The contours of him lay so easily, yet so fiercely, it made her skin shiver. The broad expanse of his chest pinned her lightly, a reminder of how much more experienced, how much more worldly he was in these moments. And yet, for all his strength, he held himself over her as though she were fragile crystal—restrained, reverent, barely allowing the storm within him to spill.

"You’re heavy," she whispered, not as a complaint, but with something close to wonder.

Leon smiled, slow and wicked, as if her words were funny in the most subtle way. He leaned his head down, his lips still not touching, his nose caressing along her jaw with a sweet teasingness. "Do you want me to move?"

She didn’t respond at once. The feel of him weighed her down and something she hadn’t anticipated—wanted. Claimed. Safe. Like she was where she was meant to be, wrapped in the arms of a man who could see beyond everything she attempted to be, and stroked the deepest parts of her she didn’t always allow herself to feel.

No," she sighed finally, her hand running along his shoulder, skimming across the naked skin under his open robe. "Just. stay."

His gaze combed hers, and something in his eyes changed. It wasn’t lust anymore. There was something more underneath—an emotion raw and fragile, almost too holy to speak. Reverence.

Then, deepening his voice to a rumble that spoke of unseen hunger and gentleness, he asked, "Nova... are you sure?

She hesitated—not in uncertainty, but in the burden of what she was so about to share. Her lips parted, her chest rose and fell under his, and her entire body vibrated. But her eyes did not leave his. She nodded once, resolute and full of silent valor, her cheeks flushed with a flush that owed nothing to shame and everything to lust.

"I want this. I want you," she breathed. "Even though I’m a little. apprehensive."

Leon froze. The arm that had been wedged against her temple moved downwards slowly, gently, until his palm cupped her cheek. His thumb outlined her skin as though she was something treasured—something delicate and dear.

"I know." His voice softened even further, close, guard-like. "This is your first time, my love?"

She nodded once more, sheepishly this time. Her lips tipped up in a wry grin, her words shot out with a stinging lash of humor—tinged with pride.

"Of course it is," she said quietly, a laugh bubbling inside her voice, which was filled with nervous truth. "I mean, do I really look like I’ve been rolling around in beds all day?"

There was a flash of mischievous disobedience in her voice, but it was tempered by something harder — vulnerability attempting to put on armor.

Her mouth twisted into a thin, wry smile as her fingers drew a slow line across his shoulder. "Unlike you, I didn’t take a night to create a harem. I’ve been rather busy — you know, leading armies, learning how to break steel and men with equal ease, outsmarting self-important lords who thought attempting to seduce me would grant them bargaining power."

She stopped, eyes locking with his. The laughter in her tone dropped away to something softer. "And when they didn’t work, they said I was cold. I just. never had time for this. For a person."

Leon’s smile was a slow one, but it reached the edges of his eyes — warm and knowing. A low laugh rumbled free from his chest, rich and deep, like velvet gliding past her skin. But that leering flash in his eye gave way to something more substantial. His face grew serious, eyes resting on her as if memorizing this incarnation of her — open, truthful.

"You don’t have to make room for someone," he whispered, his voice lowered in gentleness, but sharpened with something determined. "You only have to make room for me."

He inched a little closer, his nose grazing along her cheek before his lips touched her temple in the faintest of kisses.".

"And I won’t hurry you," he whispered. "We’ll go slow. As slow as you require. If you ever need me to stop... just tell me, and I will. No question. No hesitation. I promise it."

The air between them changed, as if a breath that had been too long held was now finally let out. It wasn’t only the burden of wanting that hung suspended there — it was something more. He wasn’t simply giving her patience. He was giving her sanctuary. Protection. And Nova sensed it envelop her like a blanket of heat.

Her pulse wasn’t racing with fear, but something even more frightening—truth. Pure and irrefutable. She wanted this. Him. All that came with him.

"I know," she breathed, each word shaking with a place of depth that struck the air like a confession. Her fingers dug up into his hair, holding lightly, finding her moorings in him, in this moment. "That’s why I trust you."

That one sentence ripped into him like nothing else ever had.

He replied with a kiss—slow, deliberate, with every thought he couldn’t put into words. Every touch of lips was a promise, a wordless vow sculpted from feeling instead of words.

When they separated, the quiet was thicker than before. His hand shifted, fingers tracing the fabric of her shirt—already undone from before. This time, he did not hurry. Slowly, singly, he slid it back, with a near-reverent slowness, the quiet soft whisper of fabric dropping away as he exposed her to the room, to him, fully.

Her chest swelled with every breath, the dusky rose of her nipples puckering as the chillier air hit her heated skin. The warmth of their kisses still clung to her chest and collarbone, where a soft radiance had settled. Her form was pliant under him, alive with still strength and unarticulated tension. She did not flinch—she shifted a little under his look, not modestly, but because the intimacy of being looked at was too much to bear. Not being looked at, but seen.

He gazed like a starving man, his eyes consuming her with a hunger that curled fire low in her gut.

"You’re beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with something more than lust. His fingertips brushed the curve of one breast, light as a whisper, before he lowered his head and pressed a kiss just above her pounding heart. "You’re perfect."

Nova swallowed, air caught as his mouth dropped lower. Heat grazed the peak of her breast, and when he sucked one nipple into his mouth—slow and deliberate—her body responded instinctively. Her hips moved, arching toward him with a silent need, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Mmmnh..."

Her fingers threaded through his hair, not to move him, but to anchor herself. He shifted between her breasts with the same calculated deliberation, showering the other with equal devotion—tongue slow, lips soft yet firm, as if each touch was about something more. His palms cupped her sides, thumbs stroking gently just above the waistband of her pants. She felt the firm edge of his erection through the creases of his robe, insistent against her thigh, weighty and warm.

Leon leaned over her with careful restraint, as if in fear of destroying the mood with anything too rough. He led her down slowly, placing her gently into the bed. The silk sheets caressed her bare flesh, a cold burn against the heat rising within her. Her shirt lay fully open now, parted across her ribs, defining the soft hills of her breasts and the shallow dip of her belly.

He hung over her like a tempest contained by sheer force of will—arms props against either side of her, golden eyes shadowed by restraint, desire, and an intensity she wasn’t prepared to call. She had watched this man battle monsters, warp empires to his command, lead legions. But she had never watched him regard anything the way he regarded her then.

As if she was all of it.

His eyes raked over her body with a torturous slowness, savoring every inch—every curve, every quiver. Her nipples, rigid and throbbing, lifted with every breath. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, trapped in the weight between them.

And still, he didn’t hurry. Didn’t seize.

He waited—teasing her with a control that made her throb like she’d been consumed whole.

When he did speak, his tone was low, husky—smoke twisting in the gentle candle glow.

"Tell me if there’s too much... you just say the word, Nova."

The words wrapped around her like velvet. She nodded subtly, her hand loose in his hair, anchoring herself to him.

"I know. That’s why I’m safe with you Leon," she whispered, firm now, anchored on that one certainty.

The flicker that went through his eyes in return was unmistakable. A hushed awe. Reverence. As if he’d just been given something precious and scarce. And then, slowly, he leaned forward once more, lips trailing the underside of her jaw—warm and intentional.

He kissed her as if tracing her. Slow lines along the curve of her neck. A gentle nudge to the slope of her collarbone. Then lower, where her blouse had opened fully, revealing the soft, curved slope of her breasts.

Each kiss was a hesitation. A moment. A memory etched into skin.

Each touch was louder than words, like poetry inscribed in heat.

When his lips finally came down around her nipple once more, tugging it into his mouth with a gentle, wet suck, her gasp ripped free—uncooked and unfettered.

"Ah... gods..."

Her back flexed, shoving against him mindlessly, her body crying out for more while her hands clenched in his hair. She had no idea if she was trying to keep him pressed to her... or prevent herself from shattering.

His tongue was slow. Ache-inducing. Teasing in a way that curled her toes, circling slow, gentle patterns about the tightened tip before suckling once more—this time, deeper. Her flesh burned beneath his reverent ministrations, warmth accumulating low in her belly at each intentional dart of his tongue.

He worshiped her as if she were something sacred. Something to be cherished rather than devoured.

Only when her nipple throbbed with the pressure of his kisses did he raise his head, lips shining. His hand dropped lower, warm palm tracing the contours of her ribcage, thumb exploring the curve of her waist.

And then—his fingers touched the waistband of her trousers.

She froze under him, breath held, pulse racing.

His eyes met hers again. Not demanding. Not presuming. Simply. asking.

"May I?"

The question came in a whisper, soft and persistent, his voice little more than a breath, but it contained the tension of held want.

Their eyes met, and the quiet was charged with unspoken heat. Her breathing caught. The world narrowed to nothing but the two of them.

"Yes."

The word escaped her lips, soft and whispery, but charged with something molten under.

Leon leaned in, kissing her again—not frantic, not rushed, but grounding. It was a kiss that conveyed intention, focus, and reverence. Then he started moving lower, his mouth skimming down her jaw, along the column of her throat, until he hit the edge of her waistband.

His fingers caressed her skin under the fabric with unhurried deliberateness, his touch a slow fire. He hooked into the linen pants, pulling them down over her hips. Inch by excruciating inch, he exposed her to the cold air and his smoldering eyes.

The cloth skimmed over the curves of her legs, sagging at her knees. And then—just as her legs adjusted slightly, breath held in anticipation—the aroma of her arousal reached him.

It swept over him like a wave.

Warm. Heady. Intoxicating.

That lush, unmistakably female musk swamped his senses—teeming with hunger, earthy and primal, distinctly Nova. Not a perfume, really, but a proclamation. Brash. Intimate. An unspoken vow breathed through flames and pheromones. It curled around him like smoke forged of fire, winding down into his lungs, setting something ancient aflame—something proprietary.

He froze, pinned in that primal instant.

His breath hung in his throat, chest heaving with control, jaw clenching against the tempest brewing beneath his skin.

Nova shifted her head to the side, attempting to conceal the fire in her cheeks. Her voice was small, staccato, even as it trembled with the heaviness of her own excitement.

"What. what you staring?"

Leon looked up, slowly. His eyes dragged over her with reverent hunger, heavy with need. A low growl curled from deep in his chest, thick with awe and want.

"You look perfect down here."

His voice was low, thick with reverence and hunger.

Then, softer—darker— "And your scent..." He inhaled slowly, deeply, as if her very presence was addictive. "Perfect. Intoxicating."

The words struck her like a flare to dry kindling.

Her breathing caught. Hands clenching tightly into the bedsheets around her, knuckles whitening. She was Nova—the duchess with flame in her voice, blade for a tongue, and a reputation that struck both lords and warriors alike with fear. Her story lived in songs, sung by men who shuddered at ever being on the other end of her blade.

And yet here she was—naked under him, open and vulnerable to his eyes—and she flushed.

Not out of shame. Out of vulnerability.

From the sound of his voice, all soft and stroking like silk, yet with an underlying steel, from the way he regarded her like something holy. Something precious. Something desired.

Her body shook under his eyes, suspended between pride and hunger. Her strength had not disappeared—it seethed, just below the surface—but now it danced falteringly, softer, rougher, burning in wide green eyes unsure how to maintain power and surrender at the same time.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Not with his touch almost on her pussy.

Not with his eyes not looking away from her pussy.

Not when her entire body held its breath for what was to follow.