Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Cora
This is not how I saw the night going. I thought we’d have his party and then head back to my house or maybe his. We haven’t been there yet, and I’m dying to see where Atlas calls home.
When Atlas asked if I trusted him and told me what his wish was, I had to agree. I’ve been wanting a tattoo for a while, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Somehow, he captured it all on his own. If there were a perfect tattoo, this would be it.
Staring at my reflection in his lap, I take in the slope and the colors, the details, and I’m in awe of his talent.
He drew this just for me. There’s not another person who’s going to have it, and that makes it feel even more special.
Yeah, it’s sore, but I know that’s pretty typical after listening to the guys for so long.
“So, do you like it?” he asks, breaking me out of my stare.
“Atlas, I don’t like it.” I panic when I feel him freeze under me. Pulling back to look at him, I hold his face in my hands. “I love it. Thank you.” I smash my lips to his. He sits for a minute stunned, then kisses me back.
Taking control of the kiss, he slides his tongue into my mouth, and I immediately suck on it.
Grinding my hips against his groin, I swallow the moan he lets out.
His hands slide around my waist, pulling me harder against the erection I feel growing under me.
Careful not to touch my shoulder, he moves his hand into my hair, tangling his fingers in the loose curls.
Pulling back to suck in a breath of air, I yank his shirt over his head.
I need to feel his skin on mine. Trailing my hands across his chest, I graze his nipples with my fingertips.
His dark eyes are blown out with lust, and when he throws his head back on a groan, I latch my lips to his neck to kiss and nip at his skin. He tastes like mine.
Atlas unhooks my bra and gently pulls the straps down my arms, careful not to disturb his new work. It’s like he’s determined not to ruin his brand on my skin. He’s leaving his mark, one place at a time.
“Atlas,” I murmur as I rock myself against his hips.
“Firefly.” He groans, thrusting into me from below. “Do you really like it?” he asks before latching onto one of my nipples. Leaning toward the other one. “Tell me you like it,” he demands.
“Fuck. I like it; I like it a lot,” I cry out, holding his head in place.
I’m not lying. I once told Atlas my favorite flower was a dahlia, and he remembered.
The tattoo has two flowers. One of them is a single, long-stemmed dahlia, shaded with blue tones that remind me of the sky, but I’m not sure what the other is.
At the bottom of the flower, there are two fireflies.
One of them is lit up with a golden yellow orange color, and the other is lit yellow as it flies toward it, wings spread.
I pull his lips back to mine and raise up on my knees. I need more. As if reading my mind, Atlas grabs the waistband of my tights and yanks. They come apart easily at the seam, and he shoves them down out of the way. Right now, I can’t find it in me to care.
“Fuck, I need you.” He groans. “Tell me I can have you.” Pulling my nipple into his mouth, he tugs hard, eliciting a cry from me.
His hands cup my ass as he grinds me against him.
I’m so wet there’s no way there’s not a spot on his jeans.
I reach for his belt and undo it, lifting my hips at the same time.
“You can have me,” I promise, heart beating fast.
“Do you need me?”
“Yes!” I cry as he thrusts his hips into me. I tug on his hair, pulling his head back. Looking into his eyes, I whisper it again, this time against his lips, “Of course I need you.”
It’s like a switch is flipped, and I see the moment he goes feral. Atlas lifts his hips and shoves his jeans and boxers to his knees, then pulls my underwear to the side, impaling me on his cock in one go. He’s so hard and thick, but he slides in easily.
“Fuck, Cora. Now you’re never getting away from me. Death, distance, time—none of it matters. You’re fucking mine.”
He thrusts wildly into me from below. I feel my panties pulling against my body with every thrust, and it adds to the sensations. Every time he bottoms out, it’s almost painful with how deep he is.
“Oh my God, it feels so good.” I tip my head back and grind down on him as I arch my back.
“It’s not God fucking you, Cora.” He freezes and leans forward, then sinks his teeth into my neck, making me cry out. Moving my hands to his shoulders, I use his muscular body for support as I rotate my hips against his, seeking more contact.
“You can call for God all you want, but he’s not here. He’s not the one making you scream and moan. It’s me, and you better remember that.” He thrusts back into me while he smacks his palm against my ass. “But you better believe I’m going to worship you.” He pants with each thrust.
The only sounds in the shop are our breathing and the sound of our skin slapping against each other. The chair squeaks and groans every time I drop back onto his lap. I’ll never be able to look at it the same way again.
Reaching my hand between us, I rotate my fingers on my clit. The need to come is overpowering. I can feel the pressure rising in my stomach, and I know I’m close.
“No.” He shoves my hand out of the way. “It’s my birthday, and I get to make you come.”
Atlas moves his thumb around my clit as I grind down on his cock. I feel so full, and I’m almost there.
“Give me my gift, baby. I’ve been a good boy.” He hums, latching onto my neck, scraping the skin with his teeth. It’s enough to send me over. White-hot pleasure bursts from me, making my eyes roll back. He feels so good. Clamping down, I lean forward and whimper against his neck.
“Fuck. That’s it, Cora.” He thrusts back into me once, twice more, and I feel him before I hear his groan. The heat of his release floods into me, and I pull my mouth from his neck to find his lips.
“Atlas.” I breathe out his name like it’s my own personal prayer. Kissing him deeply, I lean into his touch as he puts his arms around my waist, hugging me to his body.
His hand skates up my arm and slides around to my back. Careful in how he touches my shoulder, he moves his fingers to the other flower. Trying not to wince at the twinge I feel there, I see his eyes on mine in the mirror. Our chests are heaving, but the way he looks at me stops my heart.
“Do you see it now?” he asks.
Confusion mars my face, but he offers me a small, sad smile.
Pushing a lock of hair behind my ear, he stares into my eyes.
“You’re mine, Firefly. I wished for you, and I won’t give you back.
I’m taking you and keeping you forever. There’s nothing anyone can do to stop me, and I pity any poor bastard who tries. ”
Pulling his lips back to mine, I put into the kiss what I can’t say with words yet. My heart is screaming, ‘I’m all in,’ but my head won’t quite catch up. I kiss him softly, then pull back only when I can’t breathe anymore.
Sitting on his lap, I take in my destroyed tights and his shirt across the room. “We should um, probably get cleaned up.” I laugh.
Looking around the room, he shrugs. “I’m good where I’m at.” I feel the twitch of his dick inside me.
Shaking my head, I give him a look. “As nice as that sentiment is, I can feel you running down my thighs.” I stand as elegantly as possible, and wince when I turn around. My shoulder is still sore, but I want a closer look at it in the mirror.
I’m looking at the two flowers when Atlas comes up behind me with a box of tissues. His jeans are buttoned at his waist, where he’s still shirtless. I gawk at the lines of black ink that swirl around his body and the V at his hips. Damn, I’m lucky.
The vines from his back and shoulders make their way around his arms, and there’s a mix of other, smaller pieces in between. I notice a willow tree, a compass, and what appears to be a pair of wings supporting a circular object.
Quirking a brow at me, he hands me the box. “Hold this real quick, baby,” he says as he kneels to clean between my legs. I fight the blush that spreads across my face. Yeah, sex is intimate, but caring for someone after is another level of intimacy in itself.
“Atlas?” I ask. “Why are there two flowers?”
Standing to his height, he throws the tissues away and turns back to me. Pulling me to the side, he angles my position so I can see better. “It’s a marigold.” He points at the other flower in explanation.
“Okay?”
He looks at me with a soft expression. “Marigolds are the flower for Noah’s birth month.
Well, his and mine, I guess. Now you’ll have a piece of the two most important men in your life.
” He kisses the side of my head. “But don’t worry, there’s enough space that we can add to the bouquet when we have our own kids. ”
My head whips in his direction. Kids? I misheard that, right? I’m about to question him when something else catches my attention. Oh my God.
“No, you didn’t mishear me, Firefly. One day, we’re going to have the most beautiful babies. They’ll have your dark hair and blue eyes and maybe get my height.” He smirks.
“Atlas.” I raise my hand to his chest. “What’s this?”
Smiling, he looks down at me, pausing briefly to kiss my temple. There’s never a time when he isn’t trying to touch me.
In between the dark vines, branches, and broken pieces that cover his body, there’s a burst of color on his chest that somehow, I missed.
“That’s for you.”
“I don’t understand.” I can tell it’s new because it’s still healing.
“When did you do this? And why?” Amidst all the darkness is a blue dahlia with fine lines and intricate details, accompanied by script underneath.
The words ‘Lux in tenebris mea’ are written along with my name. “What does that mean?”
Cupping my face with his hand, he strokes my cheek tenderly. “It means my light in the darkness.”
“Atlas—”
“Shhh,” he whispers. “You are my light, Cora. I would live for an eternity in darkness, just for a minute with you. You could be in the deepest parts of the ocean, and I would swim to you still. There is no way I would never be able to see you. Your light is a beacon to me. It calls me home.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I don’t know what to say. He talks about me as if I’m everything to him. It’s almost too much.
“Come on, we can go to my place for the night. It’s not as homey as yours, but it’s mine for now.” He pulls my dress gently over my head, careful of my shoulder.
Cleaning up his station, he grabs an extra container of ointment. “You’ll need this, baby, but don’t worry. I’ll help you put it on every day.”
“How much do I owe you for the tattoo?”
Atlas briefly scowls at me, and it reminds me of when we first met. “You’re not paying for that. It’s my gift.”
“Well, yeah, but I bought you a gift already.”
“I know that, and I appreciate it, but your trust is a big gift, Cora. Trust is something offered up freely, even though it’s easily broken. I won’t ever abuse that gift,” he promises me with a tight hug.