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Without waiting for his response, I begin my descent down, nipping and sucking everywhere I pass. His neck. His chest. His muscular stomach. My anticipation grows the further down I go. I’ve never been big on giving blow jobs, having only done it twice in my life, but with Atlas it’s all I want. To taste him. To feel him come undone at my doing. It’s like we’re playing some sick game, both waiting to see how far they can push the other before they break.
“Barlow.” Atlas’s fingers find my hair as I take him to the back of my throat in one swift motion.
Desire pulses through me, making me feel crazed.
I pull him in again, swirling my tongue as I begin to work his base with my hand.
It’s euphoric. Seeing what I have the power to do to this man.
It takes only minutes before he’s spilling his release into my mouth. I take it all. Every single drop, swallowing it down like it’s the sweetest damn concoction to ever hit my tongue.
When Atlas swoops down and pulls me back up the bed, I’m so desperate for release that I’m tempted to touch myself just to calm the furious ache in my core. Luckily, he doesn’t make me ask for it. He knows, without a word, exactly what I want. In some weird way, I think maybe he always has.
It’s his turn to climb down my body, kissing, nipping, and sucking as he goes. He takes his time exploring, his movements unhurried, and by the time he settles with his face between my thighs, pressing a kiss to my center, I’m ready to come apart.
And come apart I do, in less than a minute. A couple swipes of his tongue and an orgasm so intense hits me that by the time I’ve ridden out the waves of pleasure, I feel like I’ve finished a two day hike up a mountain. My entire body pulses with satisfaction and aches with fatigue.
Atlas kisses his way back up my body the same way he went down, and when his mouth settles on mine, I can taste myself on his lips.
“I need to be inside of you,” he whispers, sliding his tongue against mine.
“There’s no way he won’t hear us,” I whisper against his lips, relishing in the way his weight feels pressed on top of me.
“We can be quiet.” He kisses me deeper and I swear I can feel it all the way to the tips of my toes.
“You really want to risk it?” I break the kiss, wishing like hell I could see his face right now.
“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath. “You’re right.” He rolls off of me with a heavy sigh.
I share in his disappointment, I do. But coming in here was already a huge risk. If Brennon wakes up and finds that I’m not on the couch and that Atlas’s door is locked, well, let’s just say I’m not ready to find out what happens next.
Not that I’m scared what my brother will think. I’m not. I’m a grown woman. I can do whatever and whomever I want. But it’s different for Atlas, I know that. I know how much Brennon means to him, and I can’t imagine my brother would be very happy with him if he knew what was going on.
Then again, maybe he wouldn’t care. It’s not like we’ve actually ever talked about it. He could end up being totally fine with it. But there’s always that chance he won’t be and why risk it? It’s not like this is actually going to amount to anything so why cause issues where there doesn’t need to be any?
I’m not naïve enough to believe that Atlas is the kind of man that can give me any more than this right here. And while the thought leaves me with a sick feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, I can’t stop myself from coming back for more.
What can I say? Atlas is like the perfect drug and now that I’ve had a taste, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to shake the habit.
I make a move to roll out of bed when Atlas’s arm slides across my middle, pulling me back toward him.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He tucks me snuggly against him, my back to his front.
“I should probably get back out there,” I whisper.
“Ten more minutes.” He snuggles deeper, his hard length rubbing against my backside.
“Atlas.” I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my lips.
“Ten more minutes,” he repeats.
“Fine. Ten minutes,” I agree, trying to fight against the tiny ray of hope that ignites in my chest.
He’ll never be able to give you more...My inner voice is such a bitch sometimes. Which is why I choose to tune her out.
So what if I’ve secretly been obsessed with him since Junior High? That doesn’t mean I’m looking for anything serious.
We’re quenching a need, scratching an itch, satisfying our curiosities, nothing more.
