Page 36 of Possessive Ink

“Okay,” Felix says distractedly.

Nodding more to himself than to either his brother or me, Atticus steers me over to the stairs, following behind me until we reach the huge door at the top. Opening the door for me, he turns the volume back to deafening as the door closes behind us, blocking all the noise and making me feel a little disoriented.

“How does he cope with the music playing that loud?” I ask, feeling like I’m yelling, even though it’s quiet in the apartment.

“His brain is a little different, and the music helps him focus,” Atticus says, wheeling my case straight into his closet where he starts to unpack it, hanging my dresses beside his things in one of his many cabinets. Once all of my things have been carefully put away, he turns to me. “Now, Princess, do you need to come or shower first?”

His tone is so casual, it takes me a moment to process his question.

“I’m waiting, Lemon,” he prompts a few seconds later.

“I…”

“Orgasm or shower?”

“Orgasm,” I whisper.

I think I’m expecting him to pounce on me, but instead, he stays still and stares at me expectantly.

“I’d like an orgasm, please, Sir,” I say, hoping that it’s what he’s been waiting for.

“Strip for me,” he orders.

My fingers are clumsy as I unzip my dress, trying hard not to rip the buttons at my neck as my dress billows down my body, landing in a heap on the floor.

“Where do you think I want you?” he asks.

Unsure, I furrow my brow, then watch as his eyes flit from me to the floor at his feet. Carefully stepping away from my dress, I slowly sink to the ground and look up at him. “Is this right, Sir?” I ask, sounding breathy and wanton.

“That’s perfect, Princess.” Placing one hand on the top of my head, he strokes over my messy hair, then steps away from me, crossing to the front of the display cases. Bending down, he opens a cabinet door, but I can’t see what’s inside. After a moment, he straightens and closes the door, keeping something hidden in his hand.

Walking back over to me, he hooks two fingers behind the necklace at my throat and tugs gently, silently encouraging me to stand up. Clambering as gracefully as I can to my feet, he keeps his fingers at my neck and leads me back into the bedroom. Sliding his fingers out of the necklace, he wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me off the ground, lowering me carefully down into the middle of the bed.

Not bothering to take off any of his clothes, Atticus drags me to the edge of the mattress, then spreads my legs, encouraging me to bend my knees and place my heels on the edge of the bed, leaving me open and fully on display for him.

Kneeling on the floor in the same position as I was earlier, he wraps his arms around my thighs and dips his head to my core, pushing his tongue into my pussy and making me gasp at the intimate invasion.

“Oh god,” I rasp, then immediately correct myself. “Sir. Fuck, Sir.”

I don’t know how, but I feel his smile against my body as he fucks me with his tongue, impaling it into my core while I writhe. I should probably be sore—it’s only been a couple of hours since we had sex—but I’m not, and all I feel is want and need.

“Sir, please,” I start to beg.

Releasing one of my thighs, he pushes two fingers into my body and curls them, making a surge of tingling sensation unfurl inside me.

Tense and desperate for more, I wait for his tongue to find my clit, but instead, he works his fingers in and out of my body, going slow, then fast, varying the speed and depth and intensity until I have to close my eyes to stop the room from spinning.

I gasp when something covers my clit and starts to suck in dragging vibrations. Fighting against the wave of pleasure, I try to open my eyes and speak, but whatever is sucking moves, and suddenly it’s not just there, it’s…there. Each tug makes the tingles building in my stomach intensify until I’m panting and gasping in time with the steady sucking motion of whatever he has working my clit.

His fingers start to move, teasing me, while my clit is being tortured in the most amazing way. I can see stars and the universe and fate, and maybe even death. But as quickly as it comes, it shatters into a kaleidoscope of colors when my body implodes in an orgasm so strong that I can feel myself convulsing and know I have no control over the way my muscles are reacting.

A second orgasm follows the first so quickly that I think I scream, but I could be crying, and the whole time the thing on my clit sucks faster and harder with no relief while I come and come and come until I can’t take it anymore.

“Stop. Oh god. Sir, stop, please.”

The pressure on my clit releases, and I feel my whole body melt into the bed as his fingers inside of me become gentle caresses meant to soothe, not torment.

“That was beautiful, Princess. Thank you,” Atticus praises, his voice gravelly and rough.