Chapter 28 #2
“Never.” I shake my head. “I didn’t mind meeting your parents at all. It wasn’t too soon for me. I just wish it was under different circumstances. You know, where I wasn’t licking your dick.”
He chuckles. “Trust me, so do I, because when I get home, I know I’m going to be spending an hour cleaning that couch, and it was just my bare ass, but you know my dad is going to be looking over my shoulder, making sure I get every square inch.”
“The price we pay.” I squeeze his hand. “They were awesome though. After the elephant in the room disappeared, I had a really good time. Your mom is really sweet, and your dad is funny. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it packs a powerful punch.”
“He’s always been like that,” Atlas answers. “I’m definitely more like my mom. Felix has more of my dad’s traits, and Ansel, well, not sure where he came from, because he’s on a whole different level.”
“It’s nice that you have siblings though. Kind of wish I did. Uncle Dwight is the closest thing to a sibling that I have.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.”
“And speaking of families, he, uh, he kind of let it slip that my parents are coming into town to celebrate Christmas with me.”
“They are?”
“Yeah, I’m not supposed to know, but maybe . . . maybe you can meet them? That’s if we get things straightened out with Uncle Dwight. But no pressure if you don’t want to meet them. I don’t want you to feel pressure or anything—”
“I’d love to meet them,” he says.
“Really?” I ask.
“Really.”
“Okay, yeah, that would be . . . that would be great.” I smile at him. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” He kisses my knuckles again. “It’s getting late. We should get everything into your cottage so I can go clean the couch.”
“Probably smart,” I say.
He opens his door and tugs me in his direction. “Come this way.”
I follow him out his side of the truck, and he picks me up by the waist and brings me to the porch, where I unlock the door. I’m about to ask him if he needs help with the battery, but he closes the door behind him and then tears his long-sleeved shirt over his head.
My sweatshirt is next, and then I’m pushed up against the door and his mouth is on mine.
Immediately, I melt into his grasp, moving my hands up his chest and to his neck. He lifts me up and plasters me against the door, where he pushes his already hard erection against me.
“Fuck, I need to finish what we started,” he says. “But we have to be quick.”
That won’t be a problem. Just from kissing him, I’m already turned on.
He massages my breasts, his mouth trailing from my lips to my jaw, to my neck and back up, marking me with his scruff, completely unhinged and taking everything he wants.
It’s immediate, the way that I light up with him, the way that I grow wet, the way that I need him inside me.
“Chair,” I say, breathless.
He pulls me away from the door and sets me down. I grab the single chair I have in the corner and put it behind him before stripping out of my clothes. He does the same, and then I push him back on the chair and straddle his lap.
His fingers glide between us and right over my arousal. “You’re so fucking ready for me.”
“I am,” I say as I lift up and he positions his cock.
“Take me, Betty. Fucking take every goddamn inch.”
I slowly lower over him, allowing him to feel me inch by inch and watching as his neck strains and he bites down on his lip, trying to hold on to whatever control he has left.
When I’m fully seated, I take a few deep breaths, because no matter how many times he’s been inside me, nothing prepares me for the way it feels to be this full.
“Jesus, Betty,” he says, his hands falling to my hips. “I fucking love being inside you.”
“I . . . God, your cock.” My head falls back, and his lips find my neck, kissing, sucking, leaving his mark as I rotate my hips, allowing him to stretch me and press into places that no other man has been able to touch.
“I need more. Fuck me, Betty. Fuck me.”
I place my hands on his shoulders and use him as leverage while I start bouncing up and down on him.
“Fuck yes,” he says, his eyes on me. “Let me see you come.”
I bite down on the corner of my lip and continue to move up and down, him helping me, both of us moaning, both of us seeking pleasure. But it doesn’t . . . it doesn’t feel like enough.
“More, Atlas.”
Grunting, he lifts us up and carries me to the couch, where he bends me over the back. He pushes down on me, then wraps his hand around my hair and tugs my neck back as he enters me from behind.
“Oh my God,” I say just before he spanks my right butt cheek. “Oh fuck,” I yell. And he does it again.
And again.
And again.
To the point that I’m dripping wet. So turned on, so needy that when he starts moving in and out of me, I squeeze his cock.
“Fuck, Betty. You’re going to . . . fuck, babe, squeeze harder.”
I squeeze again, but this time when he enters, it hits me in just the right spot so my orgasm shoots up my spine, surprising me. I start coming all over him, my moans mixed with calling out his name.
“Jesus Christ,” he shouts and then stills as I feel him come inside me.
And it’s the best feeling, knowing I have control over him like that and that he can make me come so easily. It’s addicting, and I will continue to feed the addiction for as long as he lets me.
He kisses the back of my neck, then my back, and then slowly pulls out of me while smoothing his hand over my ass. Then he spins me around, picks me up, and carries me to the bathroom to clean up.
He gives me some privacy, and I hear him moving around in the living room followed by the door opening and shutting.
Confused, I wrap my robe around me and go out to the living room, where he comes through the door again, this time with a space heater and the Yeti pack. When his eyes meet mine, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, um . . . I thought that maybe you left without saying bye.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that would never fucking happen.” He sets his things down and then walks up to me and tilts my chin up. “I don’t want to leave, which means I’d never leave without at least kissing you goodbye.” He kisses me softly. “I love these lips.”
“I love the way you make me feel.”
“Same, Betty.” He then picks up his sweatshirt and hands it to me. “Keep it.” Then he winks and heads toward the door. “I want to see you tomorrow. Make time for me.”
“I will. I’ll come by the farm.”
“Good. Then I’ll come by after work.”
“Sounds good.”
“Have a good night.”
“You too,” I say, feeling so giddy.
He winks again and then takes off, leaving me in a state of falling . . . and falling hard.