Chapter Four-Atlas
The elevator hums like a held breath. We don’t speak.
There’s no need.
The silence between us is taut, alive—an animal waiting to pounce.
My pulse is loud in my ears, a drumbeat that drowns out everything but the cadence of my own desire.
God, I’ve courted a thousand distractions in my life, but none of them have felt like this.
Like a promise and a threat rolled into one.
My hand rests on the small of her back because I want to mark her as mine in the most ordinary way possible, because there’s a fierce, ridiculous tenderness in the simple contact.
The other hand settles on her hip, fingers splayed, feeling the hard plane of muscle and the soft curve beneath.
She presses against me just enough to prove she knows I’m there.
I can smell her—a wild, warm scent, citrus and woman and something that’s all hers.
It makes my mouth go dry and furious at the same time.
“No one comes in,” I tell the guards as I step in front of the door.
They nod, eyes sliding away like men who know better than to watch two animals circling.
They are small courtesies in a world of broken promises.
I thank fate for them—for the empty corridor, the privacy, the pause before the colliding.
She is supposed to be part of my plan.
She is supposed to be the instrument of a debt repaid, a casualty in a war I intend to win.
I tell myself that often enough to keep my hands from shaking.
But the truth is sharper, uglier, and sweeter.
I have wanted her since the moment I first saw her, And when I walked through the Den, and she introduced herself that first time?
It was more than a formality. It was a gauntlet being thrown, and I never walk away from a challenge.
I have rehearsed the way I will look at her, the angle of my smile, the exact cadence of the sentence that would let me cross the line.
Revenge had been a justification.
But obsession is the engine.
Cecilia is—well, to be honest, she is wrong in all the best ways.
None of her should match.
The woman is infuriatingly tall, her mind is sharp, dangerous.
And she has the kind of body that refuses to apologize for itself—wide hips that contradict and confirm everything my gut thinks it wants.
Soft belly. Big tits. Thick thighs. And an ass that won’t quit.
The hints of tattoos I’ve glimpsed across her curvy shape drive me mad, but none so much as the one curling low across the hollow of her back is obscene and holy in equal measure.
Fuck. It’s more than that.
Every flash of ink and metal as she moves makes something inside me contract with need.
Her hair is a riot of corkscrew curls, a crown that defies order.
The piercings on her ears and nose glint like small, obscene beacons in the suite’s ambient light, catching me where armor can’t.
I should be cold.
I should be strategizing, cataloguing advantages like a chess player arranging pawns.
Instead, my palms sweat.
My breath shortens.
I can feel the hard outline of my cock through my trousers, and I do not care if it shows. I will not apologize for wanting what I want tonight.
Maybe I am always like this.
A man who wants to take and to save, whose tenderness is as violent as his hunger.
Maybe the vow I made to my father twisted me into something that loves the edges.
When the door to the penthouse clicks shut behind us, that small sound swallows the world whole.
The city below is a spread of indifferent lights. But up here? Up here, there is only the heat gathering between us.
I let go of her, and step away. The space between us fills with something heavier. Accusation, invitation, promise.
My voice is low and rough when I say, “You realize you’ve been reckless, coming here with me.”
She lifts her chin, that defiant tilt at the corner of her mouth I want to erase and memorize both.
“Maybe,” she answers, and there is steel under the softness. “Or maybe I knew exactly what I was doing.”
Both answers are true.
I cross the space in two long strides, the distance between us collapsing.
I want to devour her, to press my name into her skin and never let it fade.
I want to tell her every terrible reason why I cannot, and then do it anyway.
The hunger in me whispers that once this starts, there will be no turning back —not for her, or for me, or for what I came here to finish.
My hand finds her face.
I cup her jaw like I’m keeping a wild animal from bolting.
The gesture is both claim and care. Her pupils are blown, dark and wide, and when she parts her lips, it’s an invitation and a dare.
There is a storm in me, a hurricane I have been training for since childhood.
Tonight it wants to break over her, to erase the world with the force of it.
But the moment before my mouth finds hers is like a sliver of gold among straw. It’s hesitation. That tiny, mortal thing that makes the rest of the night sacred.
Instead of closing myself off to the wave of emotions threatening to drown me, I do something different.
I lean in.
The air between us tightens until it hums.
I grab her, spinning us until my back hits the door with a soft thud, and I pull her body flush against mine.
Then I kiss her like I’ve been starving for this moment all my life. Because I have.
Every moan, every breath, every tremor in her body feels like it belongs to me—and that thought both thrills and terrifies me.
Her hands are just as wild, tugging at my shirt, dragging me closer, her fingers tracing the scars on my shoulders like she wants to know the stories behind each one.
When her palms slide over my chest, I stop breathing. There’s nothing casual about her touch—it’s curious, reverent, almost searching.
“Cece,” I murmur against her skin, my voice breaking somewhere between warning and prayer.
She looks up at me, eyes dark and defiant.
“You always talk this much when you kiss someone?”
I laugh, low and raw, pressing my forehead to hers.
“Only when I’m trying not to fuck it up.”
“Then don’t try so hard,” she whispers back.
The storm that’s been brewing between us finally breaks.
I swallow the last of my restraint and press forward, because there is no ceremony more honest than surrender.
Her body melts against mine, all warmth and contradiction, her breath hitching as my hands find her waist.
There’s no strategy left.
No old grudges. Not tonight.
Just her—this woman who sees too much and hides it behind sharp words and that fearless gaze.
When I finally pull back, both of us are breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, her pulse racing beneath my fingertips.
“This isn’t business tonight,” I say, voice rough.
“Good,” she answers, straightening her shoulders though her smile trembles. “Because I’m tired of pretending it was.”
And just like that, I know I’ve crossed a line I’ll never step back from.
I taste wine, salt, and the faint heat of cinnamon.
“Atlas,” she whispers.
And my willpower shreds.
I grab her roughly, spinning us once more so now it’s her back against the door.
Then I pounce, crashing my mouth to hers as my fingers work the fastenings of her clothes.
Every moan and whimper is mine. I lick into her, drunk on her taste as I reveal more of her flesh to my hungry eyes.
She’s working too. Pushing my shirt off my shoulders and unzipping my pants before she reaches inside and takes hold of my aching cock.
“Fuck, Cece,” I murmur, dropping my head to her chest so I’m up close and personal with her gorgeous, pierced nipples.
Christ. Fuck.
But I can’t think because her hand is wrapping tightly around my cock, and she’s squeezing and stroking me so damn good.
“You’re so big.”
I kiss her again, and it’s, well it’s everything I thought it would be, and nothing I imagined, all at the same time.
“Take the rest off,” I growl against her mouth, one hand wrapped around her pretty throat.
I step back, licking my lips, tasting her as she grips the waistband of her slacks and pushes them down.
Sneaky little brat licks a trail from the tip of my exposed cock to my chest as she rises, and I groan and press my dick against her soft flesh before backing up so I can see her.
“Fuck, you’re even better than I imagined. Is that a fucking snake?”
“A Viper.” She bites her lip and nods.
“Turn. Let me see,” I growl, my voice guttural, like gravel scraping steel. I can’t stop the pounding in my chest, or the possessive hunger surging through me.
She turns slowly, a little smug twist on her lips. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
And fuck me, I was right.
Circling those perfect hips is a black Viper—thick, sinuous, and wickedly detailed.
The scales shimmer beneath the low light, glossy and textured, the kind of ink that took hours to lay down and a master to do it.
Not just a snake—no, this is a symbol.
A warning.
A legacy inked in blood and black.
The body of the beast wraps around her hips and waist like it belongs there, coiled in and out of roses so intricately inked I can almost smell the thorns.
There are vines too, twisting up her side like living things. A string of stars curves along her spine, and when I tilt my head, I realize it’s a constellation—Orion, the hunter.
But then my gaze drops lower.
And I nearly lose my goddamn mind.
Because right there, inked in brilliant contrast to all the black and gray—on the curve of her left ass cheek—is a glittering blue fairy.
Mischievous, playful, utterly fucking gorgeous.
A sparkle of whimsy amidst the danger.
I promise myself I’ll pay more attention to her later—memorize every line, every color, every hidden story—but right now I need to focus.
Because when I turn her back around to face me, my blood goes cold and hot all at once.
Because the Viper’s head?
This goddess had it tattooed just above her cunt.
Nestled right above the mound, the snake’s face stares back at me—mouth open, fangs bared, eyes deadly.
“You’re insane,” I whisper, stepping closer, brushing my fingers over it reverently.
She smiles slowly. “You like it?”
“Like it?” I rasp. “I’m fucking obsessed.”
The ink is fresh enough to have weight but healed enough to gleam against her skin.
“New?”
“I had some detail work done a few weeks back,” she whispers.
“Who?” I growl, wanting to hunt the motherfucker who put his hands on her.
“She’s a friend of the family. Married. Professional. And she did my piercings, too.”
I growl, only moderately placated. Then, I realize what she just said.
“Fuck,” I moan, noting the glitter of silver peaking from her lips.
Her clit is pierced.
I stare and I stare some more because how can I not.
Every inch of Cecilia Batiste is temptation.
Every detail is perfect.
The shadowing beneath the jawline, the glint of venom in the fangs.
It’s not just art. It’s a challenge. A dare.
A goddamn throne.
And I realize in that moment, as I fall to my knees before her and press a kiss just beneath that inky predator, that she knew exactly what she was doing when she had it done.
“You marked yourself a queen,” I murmur against her skin. “And I’m the only man worthy to kneel.”
She threads her fingers through my hair, tugging me upward with a shiver. “Then prove it.”
Oh, I plan to.
Right now I plan to make out with her pussy until she is clawing at me, begging me to fuck her.
Holy. Motherfucking. Hotness.
I can’t help myself. I grab onto her thick thighs, and I push them as far as they’ll go.
Then, I lean in and I inhale.
“So wet. God, you smell so fucking good,” I groan and I give her sweet slit a long, wet, openmouthed kiss, tonguing her piercing as I go, eyes wide open, fastened on that Viper’s stare—and for the first time in ever I think I might be in love.
Cecilia’s back arches, and she moans my name, pulling on my hair as I eat her with gusto.
She tastes so good on my tongue. Like the sweetest honey.
And when she comes, fuck, it’s the most beautiful sound.
I rise to my feet, spin her around and I find her slippery hole with my aching cock.
“W-wait. Condom,” she says, and I could curse myself a fool.
“Fuck,” I grunt and lean down, grabbing my pants and searching for a foil packet I always keep there.
Once it’s on, I grab my cock and I give her round globes a squeeze.
“Hold on,” I instruct, and she does, slapping her hands against the wall as I ram into her.
We both groan at my invasion, and fuck me, but nothing has ever felt so good.
“So tight. So wet for me, kardhoúla,” I groan, driving into her over and over again like a rutting beast.
It’s not close enough, so I pull out and spin her around. I don’t know why, but I need to feel her as close as possible.
Want her big breasts flattened against my chest.
Want her eyes on mine while I fuck her.
Hell, I want to taste her lips when she comes on my dick.
“Atlas,” she moans and clutches my shoulders when I pick her up by the waist.
Her legs wrap tightly around me, and I push my hips forward, filling her in one hard thrust.
“You feel so good,” I tell her, unable to stop myself.
“Close, I’m close,” she moans.
Thank fuck. Because I’m ready, and I want her with me.
I slide my hand between us, pounding into her as I rub my fingers over her pierced clit, rubbing her in circles.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Atlas!”
And just like that, Cece is coming.
Her tight little pussy squeezes me so good, so right, and I let her take me right over the edge with her.
It takes a moment for my head to stop buzzing and when it does I have just enough brain power left to allow her legs to slide down.
She’s still trembling, so I keep one hand on her while I grab a tissue with the other and pat her gently between her legs before disposing of the condom.
“That was—I mean, um, thank you,” she says, and her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink.
“Did you just thank me for sex?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
She covers her face with her hands, and I can’t help my grin as I tug them away.
“Yep, I did. I am just that cool,” she murmurs, then blows out a large breath of air. “Sorry,” she starts, but I don’t let her go there again.
Instead, I cup her cheeks and drag her face to mine. Then, I kiss her.
Slowly, gently at first. And when I feel her tension ease, I pull her into my arms and I pick her up.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks.
She’s so goddamn adorable.
Fierce. Maddening. Fucking brilliant. Sexy woman.
“As much as I love fucking you against the wall, I’d like a bed this time, so I can worship you properly, your majesty,” I tell her.
“I thought you were the prince here?”
“Maybe once upon a time. But any woman badass enough to put that kind of ink on her body is a motherfucking queen and you know that, don’t you, kardhoúla?”
She bites her lower lip and nods. My cock throbs in response.
Her confidence is so goddamn hot.
“That’s right. And I plan to pay proper homage.”