Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Zee
“I need a minute to think.”
Those are Cherry’s only words as we stand in the fanciest hotel I’ve ever been in.
When my mom fled another abusive ex or an unpaid debt, we stayed at motels on the side of highways with trucks overtaking the parking lot. This is a far cry from that.
From the outside, it looks like an abandoned old church, nestled on a quiet street at the far end of the city.
Inside, it’s a lavish kingdom decorated with marble floors, shiny wood-panelled walls and polished brass fixtures.
The smell of lemon and bergamot fills the air as the three of us stand in the hallway on the top floor. Small antique lamps sit between two doors on the landing. One for a suite. One for the roof.
Cherise reaches into her small purse, hanging by a chain off her shoulder. She pulls out a single cigarette before pushing through the door. Another one of her gorgeous dresses trails behind her as the door closes, this one black and form-fitting.
Her demeanour is completely different from what I saw in Eastmount. She still looks lost and unsettled, but gone are her vacant eyes, and there’s confidence in her steps.
“Should she be going alone?” I ask, turning to Atlas.
“It’s fine,” he says, opening the other door on the landing. “I’m watching her.”
I still can’t believe he’s here.
He looks better than I remember, even in a plain white tee and grey joggers. His shirt still clings to those muscles, and his pants do nothing to hide the bulge of the monster within.
Heat builds low in my stomach, replaying the day.
Atlas walked into the Manor as if he owned it, with no care for the consequences.
For me.
“Wait.” A pang hits my chest. “You’re watching her?”
He stalls, arching a brow. “Not like that.”
Following him into the room, it’s bigger than any I’ve seen. It spans the entire floor. Polished oak and crown moulding. A modern sofa and coffee table. Colourful Persian rugs. Large art. I wander over to the large windows overlooking the river. “Hell of a room you chose.”
“You jealous, Zee?" He folds his arms.
Heat spreads across my face.
Is that what this is?
He steps closer.
My breath catches.
His finger hooks under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. His touch still sends flames firing through me.
“Zee, the only person I want to watch is you."
“Was it you?” I study his eyes, dark, deep and unreadable. “At Dirty Diana’s?”
“You said no cameras, and I respected that. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t keep you safe. It doesn’t mean I won’t—”
I don’t let him finish.
Leaning up on my toes, I press my lips to his.
A wave of warmth washes over me as I fall into our kiss.
A soft groan leaves him, my back slamming against the wall. “I will always keep you safe. His palm presses to my cheek. Warm. Home. “If you can’t be mine, at least—”
“Oh, I’m yours, Atlas.” Tugging on his shirt, I pull him closer, kissing him deeper. “I went back for you.” My words land between our lips. “Doesn’t that prove it?”
He pulls away, his hands on each of my burning cheeks. “What the fuck were you thinking going back there, Zee?”
“I needed answers.” My words shake, his eyes searching mine. “I needed you.”
The hum of the mini-fridge fills the room.
A beat.
Then another.
In a swoop, my back lands against his chest.
“I gave you a way out.” His voice lands in my ear, low and soft as his fingers slip under the straps of this stupid dress. “Why the hell didn’t you leave?”
“Not without you.” Tingles run down my spine as my straps fall loose around my arms.
“You put yourself in danger.”
“You can’t blame me for that. You did the same.”
He reaches around me, my body surging with heat as his fingers get closer to my hardening nipples. He circles them with each finger, my head falling back against his chest. My body comes alive in a way I never thought I'd feel again.
“I blame you for everything.” He raises my arms before my dress lifts off my head, landing on the spot on the floor next to us.
His lips trace down my spine, a tingle with each press of his soft touch.
“Every fuck up. Every mistake. I blame you.” He kisses the place above my ass, his fingers grazing each cheek.
A surge of heat rushes through me. “And I’d do it all again.
I don’t regret a thing, Zee. You were mine the moment I saw you. ”
He spreads my ass, his tongue sliding between my cheeks. My toes curl, my hands slamming against the wall. He pulls me closer to him as his tongue inches lower, finding my folds.
“Fuck, I missed how you smell.” He plunges his tongue between my slit, his words vibrating against my sensitive centre. “I missed how fucking good you taste.”
My body buzzes, a million butterflies fluttering inside me at once. Feeling Atlas after what I went through is the sweetest kind of relief. Like a cupcake after a diet. Like water after a long night out.
I never want it to end.
He stands up, turning me around.
Stepping back, my eyes fall to his cock pressed against his joggers.
I watch, mesmerized as he pulls off his shirt, revealing those taut, flexed muscles. His hands fall to the band of his joggers, pushing them to the floor as his cock springs out.
He’s hard as fuck, the vein in it thick, a glisten at the top of his head, like a wink, beckoning me.
The urge to crawl to him builds as he strokes himself.
“Stay,” he says, reading my body in the way he always does. In a way that always makes me feel so seen. So understood. His eyes wander over my body, landing on each spot like a hot laser. “Did they touch you?”
“Did they fuck me?” I clarify, my eyes entranced by his frame, by how captivated he is when he looks at me with those hooded eyes.
“Read my lips, Zee.” He strokes himself faster. “Look at me.”
I can’t take my eyes away from his thick, hard staff gripped in his hand.
“Did they touch you?”
I nod.
He stops.
I drag my eyes to meet his gaze. His angry gaze.
“Wait, there’s no way in hell I’d let that asshole fuck me.”
His face softens. “Good.” Then he gives his next command. “Now, touch yourself.”
A smirk pulls at my lips as I part my legs.
I hold his gaze as I pull my hand between my legs.
“Slowly, Zee,” he growls. “Don’t act brand new.”
I take a shaky breath, slowing down.
“Touch your thighs. Lower. Near your knees.”
His demands fuel me as I lower my hands, gliding my fingers along my skin.
His breath stutters. I can hear it from here. “Fuck, Angel, you look so good.”
“If I’m your angel,” I breathe, bringing my fingers higher. My centre aches to be touched. My heart aches for him. “Take me to heaven.”
“I didn’t say to move them,” he says. “Didn’t you learn anything at the Manor?”
My eyes narrow. “Fuck you.”
“Fine.”
In two wide steps, he presses me against the wall, his length, hard against me.“I will kill them for touching you. I will make them pay.” His cock sits at my entrance, pulsing.
“They fucking deserve it.”
His hand comes to my throat. “Then fucking say it, Zee.” He squeezes, pinning me between the wall and his hard, rigid body. “Tell me.”
“I’m yours, Atlas. I'm—fuck!” He drives himself inside of me, stretching me.
A loud moan leaves me, my nerves on fire.
He pulls out.
“Again.”
I don't hesitate. “I’m yours, Atlas.”
My breath leaves me again, the stretch almost too much, but still, I crave more.
My legs tremble as he pulls out again.
“Again,” he growls, his grip tightening around me.
“I’m fucking yours."
“Again.”
His slow, measured thrusts make me fall apart, and he makes it so fucking easy to say it over and over. “I’m nothing but yours.”
“Good girl.” He brings his lips to my ear, still keeping me in place against the wall. “Don’t fucking forget it.”
He drives into me again, and the world falls apart. Heat spreads through me, sharp and electric.
I can’t live without this feeling.
I won’t.
“I’m yours.” My words shake as he moves his hips faster, pushing deeper and deeper inside me with each thrust. "But I'm mine too."
"I know.” His hand falls under my ass before he pulls me from the wall and props me on the nearest table.
"I fucking know." He pushes my back against the cold wood and lifts my legs against his chest, holding me close.
"And even then, you're still mine. Every fucking part of you.
Every last inch." He slams into me again, each thrust making me come apart more and more.
My tits bounce with each thrust as he leans over, taking each nipple into his mouth. Fire spreads through me, my body under his control.
“You’re perfect,” he groans, his words vibrating against my nipples, sending tingles down my spine. He pulls my ass closer to him, reaching my depths. “You’re fucking perfect.”
His pace quickens, our skin slapping together, our scent in the air. Every thrust pushes me further until my head falls back, over the table. The room flips upside down, but the world is so far away as he makes me shatter. Again and again and again.
He doesn’t stop until we’re both slick with sweat and he’s pulled three orgasms out of me. Against the desk. Against the glass sliding door. On the Persian rug.
We’ve only spent days apart, but we’re making up for each second.
“I fucking love making you come for me,” he says, coaxing the last one out of me, each thrust slow and deep.
"I love making you shake. I love making you scream.
" His muscles tense as he pulses against my walls.
I know the signs by now. The face he makes, the tension in his voice.
He wants to cum, and I'm so fucking ready.
His ragged breaths get heavier, his thrusts frantic and rhythmic. “God... I fucking love you.”
My eyes shoot open to his words as heat curls through me. My skin slick, my mind hazy, his words echo around the room.
Slam!
“I have an idea.”
Cherry’s voice slices through the haze, our heads whipping to the door.
Atlas looks over his shoulder. “Cherry, we’re a little busy.”
Cherry smirks as I reach for a blanket near the sofa, pulling it over us. She hardly blushes. Out of the Manor, she’s far from the girl I thought she was.
“I already came back three times.” She stalls, looking us over.
“Cherry, give us a second!” I yell, my head falling against the rug.
"You're a lucky girl, Zee." Cherry leans against the front console. “You found a man who doesn’t give into his privilege and power.”
“Give us a fucking minute!” Atlas raises his voice.
Cherry laughs. “Okay, but when I get back, we’re taking Emery off his throne.”