No, no, no, please don’t stop! I want more! I’m so close.
“Eyes on me when I eat you! I want you well aware of who gives you pleasure. If you look away or close them, I’ll stop.”
My gaze darts to him on command, and the smugness spills all over his face while he lowers himself once more, starting right where he left off, only to catch on my clit with his teeth, just as I did with his finger.
I want my hands free.I need to touch him.
Atlas adds a third finger, hitting a spot inside me that makes my head start to fall back, too lost in the pleasure he gives me. When he halts, my eyes are back on him instantly, so he will proceed. And he does, while staring straight into my soul. That alone turns me on even more, if it’s even possible. But with every stroke, he chips away a piece of my control, and I’m the one who’s supposed to take it from him.
A rumble of pleasure vibrates through my clit when he sucks on it and his fingers curl inside me, forcing the orgasm to build up so fast, coming like a tidal wave, crashing into me, leaving me crying out loud. I do close my eyes when that climax hits, but he doesn’t stop, even though my walls are cinched so tightly on his fingers, like I want to keep them there permanently as a keepsake. He prolongs my high to the point it seems endless, making pink bunnies dance across my vision. I can’t even catch my breath, let alone form a coherent thought.
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.
