Summer #3
Shutting my eyes again, I try to think of something to say. Anything.
Another bite on my sensitive clit forces me to open them and look at the man between my legs.
He’s grinning ear to ear, my arousal coating his full lips, which right about now look like the most kissable thing I’ve ever seen.
Wait.
Did I scream his name when I came?
Nooo!
Oh, God! I did.
Right before his growl as a stamp of approval.
Strike me now!
Atlas stays between my legs, lapping every trace of my disgrace, before his thumb collects my arousal from his lips and he licks off every drop, like he’s hungry for more.
Closing my legs, I strive to bottle the shame of what I willingly let him do, so that emotion doesn’t surface for his amusement.
“Officially the worst fuck of my life.” This comes out of me through ragged breathing, shaky, sounding absolutely pathetic, as I struggle to put on a convincing expression to the statement.
That fucker smirks, unbothered by my words.
“Your moans said otherwise.”
“I deserve a Golden Globe for the performance,” I bite, more breath in my lungs now to make that statement. But the wetness between my thighs, the red that I’m sure stains past my cheeks, and the way my muscles cinched around his fingers when I came can’t count as a performance.
Atlas climbs atop me, pulling my legs apart and pinning me under, his lips inching closer to mine while he peruses my face from up close.
“Your pussy trying to chop my fingers off when you came also says otherwise.”
Well, of course, he’s going to mention that, smug as fuck!
“My pussy deserves an Oscar.” And I deserve a Razzie for hitting a new low trying to sound convincing while denying what transpired between us.
“Well, you can call my dick Oscar when I give it to you. Screaming out my name is a great acceptance speech you have prepared.”
He comes even closer, and the instinct to pull away seems to be gone, but my protest is on the tip of my tongue.
“Get. Off. Me!”
With my cheeks in a firm grip, he forces a kiss on me. I don’t respond, having enough of my senses back to be able to resist the urge.
When he releases me, that same hand goes down between my thighs, teasing me once more. I’m so sensitive right now, a single touch makes me bite down on my lip to keep a moan from escaping. I’m sure the struggle is all over my face, despite how hard I try to hide it.
“Round two, honey? I can eat that delectable pussy night and day. All you have to do is say please.”
Oh, I see where he’s going with that. He’s trying to make good on his promise.
Make me scream—check.
Make me plead—not fucking happening!
He slowly pushes two fingers inside me while his thumb stays on my clit, running circles from hell there.
“Come on, my little Succubus! A single word. Say it, and I’ll let you come again.”
“How about . . . two words?” I finally find my voice through the fog of pleasure clouding my mind.
“Pretty please?” He smirks.
I shake my head. A no would come out strangled as his curled fingers hit a spot.
“Fuck me?” Atlas tries again, beaming like he knows he’s winning.
Another attempt at a firm no dissolves into a breathy curse. “Fuck off!”
He shrugs.
“Fuck me, fuck off . . . tomato, tomahto. Sounds the same to me.”
Those skillful fingers stop their ministrations, and cool air replaces his touch.
The needy whimper slipping past my lips makes me want to fish out my own vocal cords and cut them one by one.
Like screaming his name wasn’t enough shame already.
Atlas doesn’t need to comment on the matter when his ego fills the whole room, not leaving space for anyone else.
He spreads my arousal on my lips, literally rubbing the neediness in my face, and forces another kiss on me.
“Fuckin’ heaven,” he whispers, before pulling away. “Stay still! Wouldn’t wanna hurt you.”
He takes out his knife and cuts the zip ties binding my wrists.
I’m ready to choke him to death. My hands obey what my mind desires, wrapping around his throat and squeezing hard.
Leisurely, he tucks the knife at the back of his jeans before taking hold of my wrists, peeling my palms off his throat.
“Awww . . . You wanna hug me. Aren’t you cute?”
“Fucker! You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
Fair enough, I’m the one who initiated our games, but I never thought I’d get tied to my own bed, eaten, and fingered until I was screaming his name.
“I’m dying to see what you’ll throw at me!”
That asshole boops my nose before getting off the bed and striding out.
Grabbing the lamp from my nightstand, I hurl it at him, but the closing door is what takes the hit.
Atlas’s booming laughter comes from the other side, following the shattering sound.
“Was that a lamp, honey? I meant ‘throw’ figuratively,” he shouts, and the rage inside me is already at an exploding point. “See you tomorrow, Succubus!” he says, double-tapping my door.
I grab a pillow to silence my fury, which comes in the form of a scream.
Tomorrow, I’ll show him who he’s up against. It’s my turn to take away his control, and he won’t be getting a happy ending like I did.