Chapter 9 #2
“I need some new music for a project I have to work on tonight. Want to cruise through the record store with me?” I ask.
“Lead the way, beautiful,” he says with a grin.
Atlas listens to me talk about everything and nothing as I tell him about how Sally from the grocery secretly wants to sing, while Roberta from the rage room may be a serial killer. His lips twitch as he listens to me rattle on about things, though he shows interest in the rage room.
“How often do you go to the rage room? Are people regularly telling you their darkest secrets?” he asks. “I’m kind of fascinated by your ability to get this information from people.”
“As if people don’t spill their secrets to you,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“That’s different,” he shrugs. “How am I supposed to protect the people who work for me if they don’t tell me the truth? I have photos of ex-boyfriends, abusive parents, anyone who could show up at my place of business to be a problem. It’s the best kind of being nosy.”
“I don’t intentionally dig for things,” I admit, shrugging. “I guess I have a face people trust.”
“I can see that,” he murmurs, his growly rumble of words making me shiver as he opens the door to the record shop for us. While so many other shops have closed that sell music in support of going digital, this one seems to be going strong.
Sunrise Records brings happiness to my life.
I’d rather play the records in my apartment on my player, because the music sounds so much better to me.
It scratches the happy places in my mind.
Atlas follows me as I trail up and down the new release aisle, watching as I put on headphones to listen to different albums. When I catch him smirking as I dance to a pop song, I roll my eyes and pull him closer to share my headphones.
“There’s no way you can resist dancing to this,” I tease him.
His arms wrap around my waist as he rests his chin on my shoulder, an earcup pressed to his ear as he holds me against him. It’s like having a giant hugging me, and I love it. His hips slowly roll, my body hiding him from his clear inability to keep from dancing.
“It’s definitely a bop,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear. “You have an eclectic enjoyment for music.”
“I get bored easily,” I admit. “I need to keep my brain just busy enough to be able to concentrate, and that means the music has to make me happy. What that entails is different from day to day.”
“Fascinating,” he says, burying his nose in my throat. “Did you decide on red lipstick today to keep me from kissing you?”
“I told Jude it’s my mouth chastity belt,” I whisper, knowing my voice tends to get louder when I’m listening to music.
“Ugh, you’re so much trouble, Hummingbird. Now all I can think about are those pretty red lips wrapped around my cock,” he groans. “I want to see exactly how pretty that color looks staining my shaft.”
“So do I,” I confess, putting the headphones away. “I’m going to buy my records, and then we’re going to work off this sexual aggression in the rage room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbles, watching as I begin retracing my steps to pick up my pretty prizes. “Records, huh?”
“It sounds better,” I shrug.
“I need a crash course one day in your apartment on your music. I see no clothes in our future while we roll around naked with Briar and Jude.”
“This sounds like the perfect way to spend a day. Okay, I think that’s everything.”
“It’s a haul, not a shopping trip. I love it. Do we need to drop these off at the apartment?” he asks, taking my pile of records from me.
Following him to the check out counter, I shake my head before I remember he can’t see me since he’s putting the records down for me. “That’s not necessary. They have lockers where I can stash my new pretties.”
“You’re an adorable hoarder of new treasures, Hummingbird.”
He starts to pull out his credit card, but I beat him to it, pretending to have a sword fight before sliding mine to Richard.
“She’s scarier than you are,” Richard informs Atlas, taking my card.
I mean, he’s not wrong. I preen for Atlas as his shoulders shake, thoroughly entertained by me.
Richard carefully places my records in a couple of bags, and Atlas gallantly takes them from him.
“Lead the way, Hummingbird. I’m all yours.”
Cocking my head to the side, I lock eyes on him. “Mind if I ask, why Hummingbird?”
His lips curl into a smile that has my stomach fluttering.
“Because they’re beautiful, just like you,” he teases, but his tone goes softer for his next words.
“And the way your mind works reminds me of how they move, quick, all over the place, never in one spot for too long but always a beautiful sight. It’s what makes them unique. ”
My heart races like a drum and I can feel the back of my eyes stinging. I do not cry! I am not a crier. But damn it, this man is making it very hard right now.
The way he makes me believe that has me blushing as we leave the store together and walk down the street to the rage room.
Honestly, it’s a little overwhelming how well everyone is getting along.
There haven’t been any hiccups, Briar is amazing, and I would be willing to bet money she and Jude are having a blast at home.
It’s important to recharge, and something tells me her days and nights are busy.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Atlas asks a few minutes later. We’ve paid for our session, stashed our things, put on the safety gear, and now are waiting in the hallway to go into one of the rooms.
“I’m thinking about how amazing you and Briar are,” I say, letting him tug me into his arms. The protective jackets squeak as the material rubs against the other, and I grin up at him happily.
“There’s more, right?”
“Always is. I was also thinking about how well our dates have been going. Our temperaments match, you don’t mind the crazy you’ve gotten to know, and you’re both pretty easy going,” I add.
There’s a lot more crazy than he may be comfortable with, and that’s what I’m concerned about.
“I think I can handle all of your crazy,” he says, his lips pressing against my temple. “Let’s go break some shit, Hummingbird.”
Nodding, I bounce happily into the room, finding a sledgehammer that’s calling my name.
“Are you working out any specific rage?”
Adjusting my goggles, I swing my weapon at a group of ugly lamps. “My client needs an update on her website, and I’m having trouble getting into a creative groove.”
“So you’re going to beat the shit out of things to…”
“If I’m tired enough, my brain will have no choice but to work,” I say, shrugging. “It’s also why sometimes I’ll have a dance party before working. I’m willing to try anything once if I think it might work.”
Nodding, Atlas hefts an axe in his hand before going to town on a door laying propped up on its side. It’s a comfortable silence, we break shit with the kind of intensity I can usually only find with Jude. I first started coming here with him when he was having nightmares of what happened to him.
Later, came frustration and anger because he lost control of his life, and no one would hire a broken dancer. The Rusty Pipe is good for Jude. It allows him to stay in the habit of stretching and exercising so he can dance, and he has creative freedom to do whatever form of dance he wants.
Ballet was an incredible opportunity for him, but it was very structured in its creativity. He’s considering going to an aerial dance studio soon to learn how to use silks for his dance routines, and he’s taking me with him. I may suck at it, I’ll never know until I try.
It’s the same thing I told him before I signed both of us for a class next week. I simply haven’t told him yet.
Atlas and I are both breathing hard by the time we finish our hour long session trashing the room.
“Fuck, I didn’t realize how much fun this would be,” he says, chest heaving.
“There’s a cortisol release that happens when you break things. I read an article about it before I first decided to try it,” I explain helpfully, pulling off my safety glasses.
Atlas tears off his goggles, his lips pulled into a wicked twist as he begins to stalk toward me.
“Down boy!” I squeal as he picks me up. Atlas can’t do it the normal way, oh no. His hand squeezes a palmful of my ass, and he lifts me until my arms can wrap around his neck.
“I want a kiss first. Do you have any idea how sexy you look when you use a sledgehammer?”
“It’s because I shouldn’t be able to—mmmmhmm.”
I have no idea what else I was planning to say, because I’m being consumed by soft lips which don’t give a fuck about my lipstick.
His tongue slides over mine, and his breaths feel as if they give my lungs permission to breathe with him.
It’s a hot fucking kiss that slowly destroys my panties.
I’m wet and needy, and I moan into his mouth, knowing he’ll muffle it as he squeezes my ass harder.
I want his fingerprints all over my body as soon as possible.
“You taste exactly as good as I thought you would,” he growls, nipping my bottom lip. “How much of a mess am I?”
Taking off my heavy gloves, I rub a smudge of red lipstick off his bottom lip.
“It’s not too bad. Maybe there’s better staying power on this lipstick than I thought there was.”
“I still need a dick sucking test,” he says, carefully dropping me back on my feet. “Are you hungry?”
“I am. We definitely worked up an appetite.” I ignore the double entendre of my words as Atlas gives me the sexiest uptick of his lips. It’s not quite a smile, but it bleeds smugness.
The mountain man definitely knows how sexy he is.