Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Zee
My body stills, the cold air making me shiver.
Or is it her words?
"Alaina?" I choke out as both girls glance around again. "Liv's Alaina?"
The night at the Manor flashes in my head.
The scream. That bed. The blood.
“They’re cutting back," one girl whispers. “We girls need to be careful. Stay in line, you know?”
Her eyes drop to my outfit, her mouth twisting at my cropped tee. Or maybe it’s my sneakers. I’m wearing my dad’s old blazer, but it still doesn’t help. My father was slim, and this thing hardly helps cover my tits when buttoned.
Before I can ask any more questions, one girl pulls the other along.
Then it happens.
That pressure.
That squeeze in my chest.
That knot in my stomach.
It’s him, isn’t it?
You’re fucking a psychopath.
Stupid!
You actually thought this could be real?!
Closing my eyes, I suck in a shaky breath. focusing on the sounds around me.
All I hear are whispers of names. Liv’s. Alaina’s. Reggie’s.
A burn tickles my throat. My fists clench, and before I can think about it, I march to the Insectarium.
My head spins the entire way, the path tilting as I move.
Atlas isn't the only monster.
I spent the last few days getting railed by a serial killer instead of mourning the innocent. Instead of finding out who killed them.
Who the fuck does that?
It’s not until I’m in Atlas’s office that I blurt out the words. “Did you do it?”
Silence fills the room, my eyes on the man who forced himself into my life. He looks unbothered, casually sitting at his desk like it’s a regular day.
With a slow lift of his head, he looks up from behind his screen, over the rim of his glasses.
“Did you kill her?” I ask again.
I wish he didn’t look this good in that stupid sweater vest, fitted to his stupid muscles. I wish the sunlight pushing through the blinds didn’t highlight his structured features. Or brighten those golden eyes.
I wish I could see him for the monster he is. But as he sits there, behind his desk, it’s hard to believe he’s capable of anything besides pleasure. And comfort.
In a smooth motion, he takes off his glasses, reaching for the felt cloth on his desk. He leans back in his chair, cleaning his lenses as if I didn't ask him anything at all.
“Sit down.” He finally speaks.
I open my mouth to ask the same question. “Di—”
"Sit, Zee." His voice harshens, his words rolling right through my gut. It's enough to stop the words at the tip of my tongue.
Yesterday we made love all over my father’s home. My home. And now he’s speaking to me like some disobedient student.
We stare at each other from across the room, a deafening silence washing over us again.
I give in.
He watches as I move into his office, kicking out the leather chair in front of his desk. I drop into it, my eyes still on his.
"Good," he says, rising from his seat.
My pulse quickens when he nears, but he walks right past me. To the door.
My brows lower as I turn to see where he’s going.
"Eyes ahead." He stops, reminding me he can read me before I even make a move. “Now, Zee.”
My fists tighten as I roll my eyes, turning my head back to his desk. Loose papers lay across the shiny wood with different species of butterflies. Most of which I’ve seen in the Insectarium. A manila envelope and a letter opener sit next to it. Just like the one I saw in Lola’s drawer.
Click!
My breath hitches when he closes the door.
“Breathe,” he says, his voice closer than it was a second ago. His hands come to my shoulders, heat cascading down my body.“Exhale.” I do. Long and shaky. “Again. Slower."
I’ll admit this helps, but I still want answers. It’s just hard to ask questions with his big hand wrapping around my neck. He glides it up to my chin, tipping my head back so I look him in those cold, glimmering eyes.
“Good. Good girl." He dips his head lower, his thick lips hovering above mine.
I can’t reach it if I tried, not from this angle. From the look in his eyes, he knows how much I want to.
“Zee, you can’t barge in here,” he says. “You can’t demand anything from me. Do you understand?”
My eyes narrow on his, that tightness in my chest returning. “You did it, didn’t you?”
His grip around my neck tightens. “Understand?”
I roll my eyes.
His grip tightens some more, my breath shallowing. “Atl—”
“Sir.”
And there it is, that word, that demand that sends that heat from my neck right down to my core.
“You came to me,” he says. “So, you listen.”
“I came for answers.”
“You wouldn’t have come here if you truly thought I did it, Zee.” With two fingers, he points my head to the wall behind his desk.
Leather-bound classics line the shelf, filling the wall. Tolstoy. Wilde. My eyes linger on Bronte before moving to a single golden chess piece. The knight.
“Straighten up.”
“What the fuck, Atlas?“ My words are tense, but my body is anything but. It betrays me as I sink into the leather, my thighs sticky with sweat beneath me.
“Good posture is important.” His hands come to my shoulders, pulling me up so my back sits flat against the chair.
Atlas is stern, we know that. But I’ve never seen him this stern.
“Good. Stay.” He reaches around me, that sinful scent coming with him as he pulls the manila envelope closer to me.
He flips it open to the same pages I saw in Lola’s desk.
Shit…
Did Kon tell him?
“Since you want to read these papers so much, you’ll do it now.” My brows furrow, and before I can say anything, his words harden. “Out loud. Now.”
“Why are you so mad?” I ask. “Is it ‘cause you’re guilty?”
His lips land next to my ear. “Do you really want to find out what happens if you don’t listen to me right now?” His finger lands on the paper, tapping it. “Read it. Go ahead.”
“What are we even doing here?"
"Reading."
Glancing up at him, his eyes don't soften.
"Fine. Fuck." I reach for the pages, my throat dry, my pulse hammering.
Every part of me tells me to demand answers, but the way he pins me in place has me forcing out words I can hardly pronounce.
“Danaus plexippus,” I start. “Papilionidae… ”
"Good girl," he encourages, his hands moving from my shoulders, sliding down my arms. He grazes the tips of his fingers against the fabric, his soft touch making me shift in my seat. "Go on."
“Nymphalidae, Libytheana carinenta.”
My voice shakes when he reaches around to unbutton my blazer. Button by button, he undoes each one.
“Morpho pe-peleides.” I stutter on the last one, his fingers stopping.
“Say it again. Clearer.”
“It’s hard when you’re—”
A gasp escapes me when he grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back.
“Again, Zee.”
This shouldn’t turn me on. It really shouldn’t. But his assertive demands make me want to follow through with his weird display of… whatever this is.
“Morpho peleides.”
He pulls my blazer down with one hard tug, the heat on my arms meeting the air in the office.
“Good. Better.” His cold fingers graze my skin as he pulls my shirt up to reveal my bra. “Breathe. Continue.” His fingers glide over the soft skin of my breasts as my concentration fails me.
With a trembling breath, I force myself to read. I recite the list as he moves his fingers towards the cup of my bra. With another hard tug, he pulls them down.
My nipples are already hard when the chilly office air grazes them. I don’t even know what I’m reading when his fingers find both nipples, circling them.
My thighs squeeze together as his touch gets closer to my peaks.
“Keep them open,” he says. “Don’t fight yourself, Zee.”
It’s hard to keep them open when I start reading again, taking a breath every time I stutter.
“Good, Zee.” A burst of heat shoots between my legs when he finally pinches my nipple.
A sigh of relief escapes with it.
Am I stupid for listening to his demands without him telling me what the fuck happened with Alaina?
I am.
But you wouldn’t be able to ignore this either.
The way Atlas’s fingers pull at my nipples makes me rock against the chair, that throb between my legs all too demanding. His other hand sinks lower, and lower, and I don’t dare stop reading.
I want his touch. I need it.
It calms me more than his words ever will.
“Fuck,” I spit when his hand lands between my legs, his two fingers slapping against my centre. "Oh … fuck, yes.”
He stops. “What was that?”
My cheeks burn. One of his hands grips my breast, the other teasing my clit beneath my damp panties.
“Should I stop?” he asks. “Is that why you stopped?”
Jesus fucking christ.
"N-no," I stammer.
"Then read, Zee."
As I read the next few species on the list, his hand wraps around my waist, pulling me up to my feet.
Once I’m standing, he keeps me steady, forcing my shaky legs to hold me.
“Keep fucking going.” His words sound more intense, and I know why.
I can feel him against my ass, and he’s hard as fuck.
Reaching over, he pushes the paper further back on the desk, still in my view as his voice comes to my ear again.
“You’ll keep reading while I bend this beautiful ass over my desk. I’m going to push my cock deep inside you so I can feel your every pulse, and I don’t want you to stop. I don’t want you to stop until your perfect pussy tightens around me and you come on my fat cock, do you understand?”
The sound of metal clanks behind me, as I nod, a burn spreading through me.
“Use your words.” His hand wraps around my throat again as he hikes my skirt up above my thighs. “You can speak to me. Just this once.”
“Yes.” My voice gives away how needy I am, how much I want him. He yanks on my strands again. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
A sharp gasp leaves me when he plunges inside me, flooding my nerves with everything I need.
Gone are the anxious tremors I felt outside. Gone are the questions. The accusations.
All I feel is him.
All of him.
Each thrust is hard and claiming, as he grabs my ass and pulls me back onto him.
Each time I read a butterfly off the list, he plunges back into me harder.
I can’t even focus on saying their Latin names any longer, so I blurt out what I can, not wanting him to stop.
“Monarch.”
Thrust.
“Emerald.”
Thrust.
“Fuck!” I cry, my hand flying to the side of the desk, gripping it.
He pulls my other hand to the other side, spreading my legs wider with his foot, then he pins my wrist on both ends.
“Keep fucking going,” he says. “I didn’t lock the door, and I need you to come before someone sees what you do to me.”
That shouldn’t turn me on more. It shouldn’t turn me on that he wants me so fucking bad that he’s willing to risk his job.
I read faster, and he moves his hips quicker, matching my pace.
Each thrust makes me fall apart over and over again as he overtakes my body, showing me he’s studied it, showing me he knows what it takes to make me disintegrate into nothing but a puddle of bliss.
He hits parts of me I never thought were possible. He takes away things I never thought would ever disappear.
“I can feel you, Zee,” he groans, his cock throbbing against my walls. “Let it fucking go.”
I lose all sight of the paper. I lose all sight of everything in my view.
Everything melts away, including the thoughts haunting my mind. And it’s all because of him.
“Keep. Fucking. Going,” he groans, his pace quickening, his hips slapping against mine. “Don’t fucking stop.”
His words encourage me to bounce back on him, driving another orgasm to bubble in my core.
My legs threaten to give out. His cock threatens to split me open.
Slam!
“Zee?”
Atlas stills.
“Atlas?”
There's another voice in the room. One that makes Atlas shift over me like a shield, but it’s way too late.
My stomach drops, my cheeks singe.
A whoosh of cold air washes over me, and reality slams back to me all at once.
My voice shakes. “Kon?”