Atlas
Summer doesn’t take a sip of the drink the soon-to-be-repeatedly-punched-in-the-face clown brought her. I wanted to get her here, and that’s the only reason I let him take her out. As much as it hurts my pride to admit, I can bet my left nut she would’ve turned me down flat.
Sneaking out from the booth, she avoids the fucktwit’s touch, and I’m grateful, because otherwise I would’ve had to make a scene and then be kicked out of the club. I’d much rather have my hands on her.
Every sway of Summer’s body falls into a rhythm designed to make a man obsessed. Probably possessed, too.
A guy tries to approach her, and I grip the metal ramp before me, ready to rip his throat out if he lays a finger on her. The way she pushes him off leaves no doubt that she knows how to handle herself, but what stands out even more is the fact that she didn’t check him out. She’s not here for a hookup.
Given the subzero attention she’s paid me throughout the day, I should probably consider the possibility that she might not be into men. If that’s the case, which I doubt, she’ll still have tofuck one man.
I gloat as another guy bites the dust when she pushes him away.
Their hands have no place on her. Only mine do.
Will-the-dickweed snakes his arms around her waist, and she struggles to get them off her, pushing him away like a piece of trash. The darkness of this club is not enough to hide the irritation on his face when he fails to get what he wants.
He’ll be getting what he deserves soon enough.
But I’ve watched from the shadows for too long. Let the real hunt begin!
I’m not going to let Summer see me coming, lurking in the crowd, until escape is no longer an option. After following her around for the last day and a half, trying to figure her out, I don’t have much, but right now it doesn’t matter. She’s a gorgeous prize. Not the kind you win, but one you take. And she’s right there, waiting to be taken...by me.
I should’ve made Link run a background check, but following her is so much fun. The thrill. The anticipation. Fuck, the rush of it. Those exact same emotions overtake me while I prowl through the throng.
Every move of her body puts me in a trance, and all I can think of is getting my hands on that delicate frame, feasting on her skin, and burying my cock so deep inside her that she’ll be left screaming my name for decades to come.
As I lurk right behind her, that sweet scent lures me into taking a bite, or maybe more than one.
The way she moves makes her dress lift an inch up, and I have to restrain myself from stripping it off her body. In my mind, I’ve done that a thousand times since the moment I saw her coming out of the building she resides in.
When I bracket her hips in a firm grip, her rhythm falters. Without checking who’s holding her, she tries to pull away, but I keep her anchored in place.
I expect Summer to finally turn, come eye to eye with me, but no such thing happens. Her head dips a little, locating the source of the forceful restraint before gliding her hands over mine. My graspslips a little before I can stop it, enough for her hips to start moving again. She sways slowly now, more seductively, while her fingertips offer the gentlest touch, leaving me craving more. Gripping her waist, then her throat, I drag her back against me until my face is buried in her hair, stealing a moment I have no intention of giving back.
A sharp pain in my ribs knocks me away from the deep reverie she put me under.
She fuckin’ elbowed me?
It hurts, but I smile anyway.
Reclaiming my hold on her waist and throat, I apply just enough pressure that her pulse beneath my fingertips goes rampant. Gentle hands find mine, and once more, a single caress is enough to make me ease off the hold.
Summer finds the rhythm again, ass-teasing me briefly, before pulling away.
Freeing her delicate throat, I move the long hair to one side, baring her neck for a kiss. That’s not enough to halt her movements, but the outcome is radically different once my teeth sink there. Her whole body goes rigid. Then a traitorous little shiver runs through her. No fighting, or screaming, or even trying to turn. I smile against her soft skin, not letting go of that bite.
She starts swaying, wary, while a hand skates on my neck, fingertips tracing my jawline first, before languidly reaching up my cheek, setting a fire wherever her touch lingers.
One swift move is all it takes for her gentle caress to turn rough, as she grabs my hair and yanks me by it, forcing me to let loose of the bite I was savoring.
Baseline established. Every time I push, she pushes back.
It’s like some fucked-up game.
And I love it.
Summer holds me captive by my hair, but when she releases me, her moves quicken with the sole purpose of driving me insane. Her ass teases me again, and that’s the final straw. Self-control? Gone.
