Chapter Twenty-Five-Atlas
This woman is going to kill me.
Her verdant eyes sparkle up at me from where she kneels after having sucked every drop of reason I had right through my cock.
No, I’m not reasonable where she’s concerned.
Not even close.
All I feel now is raw need and urgency. So damn much that it’s like a lump in my throat and I can hardly breathe.
“Up. Bed. Now,” I grunt, lifting her by her armpits and spinning her around, but not before I practically claw her outfit off her body.
Goddamn that body.
So lush and perfect. So mine.
“Kneel. Head down,” I tell her.
I remove the rest of my clothing as she gets into position, dropping the tiny tube I had in my pocket on the mattress.
She’s open to me like this. Her sweet cunt is glistening in the dim light of the wall sconces.
“Atlas,” she breathes my name, needy, urgent. And I feel it like a siren’s call beckoning me.
My cock is already hard again, but I’m not going to rush this. Not this time.
“Look at you, Wife. So wet and perfect. Tell me what you need,” I murmur, moving on to the bed, running my hands over her supple body—but not yet touching her where she needs me most.
“Please, Husband, touch me,” she whispers between whispery breaths and louder gasps.
My eyes roll back when she calls me that. It’s like she found it. My new fucking kryptonite.
Looking at her this way—on all fours now, just how I wanted her—is like the culmination of every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had.
My hands spread over the curve of her hips, fingers grazing the dark ink etched into her skin like scripture.
Every mark tells a story I want to learn.
Every gasp she gives me is a page I’ll memorize.
Cecilia is a masterpiece.
Bold. Brilliant.
And mine.
I kiss her neck, her spine, her cheeks, that fucking Blue Fairy that drives me wild. Then I grab them, and I spread her.
“Atlas!” she says, stiffening.
“Easy. I got you,” I growl, and then I lick.
Fuck. She tastes so good.
I snake my tongue from her pierced clit back up to that tight little asshole, and I swirl it around and around.
Rimming is not something I’ve ever done to another woman. I’ve just never wanted to.
But with Cece? I’m a beast, and I can’t rest until I’ve had my fill.
And I intend to.
So I lick, and I lick. More and more until she’s writhing with me.
“Oh my God!” she cries out.
I almost grin at the way her muscles tighten. Her poor little puckered hole has never been treated to this before. But I’m not stopping.
I grab the lube I dropped on the bed earlier without her noticing and I coat my fingers, and my cock.
“What are you—” she whimpers some more.
“Shh!” I say, and I smack her plump cheek, then I go back to feasting.
I lick her from asshole to clit, swirling my tongue around her piercing as I press my index finger into her ass. She moans.
But she’s not fighting me, so I add another finger to her ass, and the other two to her cunt.
“Atlas! Oh, fuck!”
Her head drops down on the mattress, a soft moan escaping her lips, and I freeze—not to tease, but to savor.
To remember this exact moment when everything inside me shifted.
I’ve had power, control, entire nations at my mercy.
But this woman? She could ruin me with a whisper.
“That’s it, Wife,” I murmur, bending low to whisper against her hip. “Do as I say, and you can have anything you want.”
She whimpers—soft, desperate, the sound clawing at something primal in me.
I trail my other fingers around her hip, slow and reverent, and I kneel right behind her. I pull my fingers from her ass and replace them with my lubed up cock.
“Gonna fuck you here, Wife. Gonna make you come so hard.”
She trembles beneath me, waiting. Wanting. But too afraid to admit it.
That’s okay, because I’m going to make her feel so good. I’m going to show her she can trust me.
But first, I want something. In fact, I think I need it.
“Your body was made for this, Wife. Let me in,” I growl as I push the first inch of my cock through the first ring of muscles.
“Oh my God,” she moans.
“Easy,” I tell her, and I slide my fingers from her cunt, and I use them to strum her swollen little clit.
She relaxes, and I push in some more.
“That’s it. So fucking perfect. Mine. Say you’re mine.”
Her breath hitches, but then she lifts her head, looks at me from over her shoulder, and she gives me everything.
“I’m yours,” she whispers. “Yours.”
I close my eyes.
Let the words fill me.
And then I fill her, slowly stretching until I’m halfway inside her luscious ass.
I pull out. I push in. And the whole while, I stroke her clit.
“Goddamn right you are,” I rasp, pressing my hips forward in tighter, deeper thrusts.
Her ass clenches with her coming climax. And I know she doesn’t trust the pleasure, not yet. But she will. I’ll make sure of it.
“Let me in, Wife.”
Cece moans, and I move in deeper, finally fucking her like I’ve been dying to. Claiming her in the only way I know how—with everything I am.
Because it’s not just about dominance.
It’s not just about power or possession.
It’s about need.
It’s about this wild, impossible ache in my chest whenever I look at her.
And if I’m a little rough, a little unrelenting tonight—it’s because I don’t know how else to show her just how much she means to me.
I want her marked by more than my name.
I want her to carry the imprint of my soul.
Because maybe I’m already carrying hers.