LIV
Hazel Winters
Unknown: So, they removed the microchip, then.
Unknown: Took them long enough.
Unknown: Guess I’ll come up with a new plan… stay tuned, Hazy
M y hands shake as I hold my phone, anxiety and adrenaline coursing through my veins. The texts sent from Alexei a few days ago still haunt me. Although I know it’s him behind them, I can’t bring myself to change the contact name on my phone. Maybe it’s denial. Maybe it’s protecting myself.
My sleep is restless. As I toss in the sheets for the hundredth time since getting into bed, I finally give up and climb out. The alarm clock on my bedside table reads five in the morning, but I know there is no point in trying to sleep now.
Instead, I swap out my pyjamas for some black workout shorts and a matching sports bra. I’ve lost weight since coming to New York - I guess the stress is finally getting to me.
Lacing up my trainers, I weave out of my room and down the hall, towards the private gym in the apartment. It’s silent as I close myself in, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind me.
The walls are painted black, with a light grey ceiling that makes the room seem even taller than it is. Cool white LED strips stem around the connection between ceiling and wall, as well as spanning down each corner.
Whilst there is an array of weights and other machines, my eyes focus on one of the treadmills, standing in a line against the floor-to-ceiling windows. I step onto it, smiling at the hint of sunrise peeking through the smaller buildings below.
I press start and match the speed of the treadmill as I increase it until I’m running. My mind wanders with each step, but I try to ignore the worries that are threatening to close in on me.
When I fail each time to push them out of my head, I increase my speed until all I can concentrate on is my running speed. My leg muscles ache as I sprint like I’m being chased.
I’m literally trying to run away from my problems.
My music is so loud in my earphones that I don’t realise I’m not alone until someone lightly touches my arm. I almost jump off the treadmill in shock but manage to catch myself before I tumble down onto the belt.
I pull one of my earphones out and lower my pace, looking expectantly at Atlas. He’s wearing grey workout shorts and seems to be missing a shirt. His tattoos are on full display, decorating his toned pecs and defined arms.
“Why are you awake?” He asks me, the hint of disapproval in his voice making my back straighten in defiance.
“Why are you?” I arch my brow, throwing the question back to him.
“Touché,” he smirks and hands me a towel as I climb off the running machine. I take it from him and wipe my face, which is burning with heat and sweat. My heart is racing in my chest, and I can’t tell if it’s from working out or the close proximity to him.
He stares down at me, seeming to be waiting for me to make the first move. I cross my arms across my chest, knowing full well that the action will draw attention to my breasts in the sports bra.
What’s a workout without teasing, anyway?
When his eyes drift down to them, I clear my throat and smirk with raised eyebrows at him.
“Want to spar?” He asks me, his face twisting into a devilish grin.
“Sure,” I shrug, following him over to the black mats on the other side of the room. I eye him suspiciously as he pulls out some tape and begins to wrap his hands. After he’s done, he passes it to me and I stare at it in confusion.
“Didn’t Sean teach you to wrap your hands when you spar?” He asks, tilting his head in curiosity. I shake my head.
“He taught me self-defence, not sparring.”
Although his face says he’s not happy with that answer, he nods anyway and takes my hands into his. The touch of our skin connecting sends tingles up my arms but I fight to ignore it. He slowly wraps the tape around my wrists and palms, no doubt trying to make me a hot, blubbering mess by the time he’s done.
And I can’t say it doesn’t work.
“Show me what Sean taught you,” he instructs me as we take opposite sides of the mat. I narrow my eyes at him but I have too much adrenaline coursing through me from the running and anxiety to say no.
Without warning him, I lunge forward and grab his forearm. He barely flinches but stands still as I twist it behind his back and use my leg to take out the back of his, forcing him to his knees.
Once he’s down, I keep his arm pinned to his back and walk around to it. I bend down to his ear, letting my hot breath tickle his sensitive skin before whispering, “That was satisfying.”
His low chuckle hits my core and it pulses with need at the sight of the man brought to his knees in front of me. Releasing his arm, I move back and let him stand up, enjoying the way he towers over me as he reaches his full height.
“That was good,” he praises before smirking and shrugging, “But I could do better.” He takes a step towards me until my nose is an inch away from his chest. My breathing increases at our close proximity, but my stubbornness kicks in.
“Try me, old man,” I smirk up at him, watching the way his eyes widen before he grins down at me.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he shakes his head playfully as I walk backwards from him. I tilt my head with a smile and gesture for him to ‘bring it’ with my hands.
And he does.
Within a few seconds, he has me on the floor with his body lying over mine. Our breathing is ragged; our mouths only a few inches away from each other.
“You look good under me, Principessa,” he teases and I shudder as his hard crotch presses against my core. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms going up onto his shoulders.
“Atlas,” I whisper, closing my eyes as my head fills with a haze of lust.
“What, Babygirl?” He asks softly, brushing a stray piece of hair from my face.
“You can’t send me away again. If you’re in this relationship,” I take a deep breath, “We fight things together. Not apart.”
His eyes search mine as I open them again, before he nods slowly.
“I’m sorry, Principessa,” he whispers, kissing my forehead lightly before returning to look at me, “I have a lot to fucking learn when it comes to loving you, but I will keep learning until my dying breath if it means I get to spend every living moment with you.”
I smile at his words, knowing there is only truth in them and his eyes.
“You can’t spend every moment with me if you keep sending me away,” I tease, smirking. He tuts and shakes his head, grinning at me in the most breathtaking way.
“Little brat,” he squeezes my ass roughly. I squeal as he pulls us up effortlessly until I’m hanging onto him like a koala bear. He shifts me up his muscular body so that I’m hanging over his shoulder, before striding out of the room and down the hallway.
“Boys!” He calls out, his voice booming around the empty space. One by one, doors open along the hallway, revealing three sleep-tousled men with guns at their sides. I lift my head to look at them, giggling when I see their tired states.
“What’s going on?” Theo asks, his sleepy voice sounding even sexier than I thought was possible.
“We have some making up to do,” Atlas tells them, slapping my ass as he continues down the corridor to my room.
“Hell yeah,” I can hear Dawson perking up in his voice. I watch as the three of them follow us into my room, before I’m unceremoniously thrown into the middle of my bed. I lean back on my elbows and stare at the four men lining the end of my mattress.
“Are we forgiven?” Theo asks, his eyebrows pinched together in seriousness. I nod my head slowly and bite my lower lip, enjoying the way his eyes darken.
“Then we have a lot of time to make up for,” Andros smirks. He’s the first to move, practically pouncing on me as he lands his lips on mine. He kisses me with a deep passion, somehow conveying his longing and regret without words.
His tongue invades my mouth, and I let it through freely as they entangle like a well-oiled machine. A hand trails from my calf up to my thigh, sending a shiver up my spine. It repeats the process until my panties are pooling with evidence of my need.
I moan into Andros’ mouth and he releases me, separating from my body as my workout shorts are yanked from my lower body.
“I should really shower,” I mumble as Dawson attacks my neck, nibbling and kissing my sweet spots.
“We can’t all fit in the shower, Little One,” Theo winks at me from the side of the bed. He pulls down my sports bra and massages my breasts with his hands before tweaking my nipples. I writhe on the bed, pinned down by Dawson as someone else separates my knees and lies between them.
All other hands and mouths leave my body and I stare down at Atlas as he rests his mouth a few inches from my bare pussy.
“Are we really forgiven, Principessa?” he asks with a serious face. I swallow, fighting through my horniness for a second to think clearly.
“Yes.”