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My orgasm tears through me by surprise, the feeling of fullness alone enough to make me come. I flutter and pulse around Keon as he holds me to his chest, his nose buried in my hair. It’s the most intimacy I’ve felt with him so far—and I like it. I let myself get lost in him, in the masculine scent he has after playing that show, in the way he’s so gentle with me after fucking my throat so hard. He rocks his hips as I ride out my orgasm, savage cries ripping their way out of my lungs.
“Glad to know I feel that good,” he rasps in my ear. “Ready for more?”
I’m honestly not sure. But I don’t tell him that. Instead, I press my lips to his neck and drag my tongue over his jaw.
“Always,” I say.
He laughs, then grasps me by the hips and lays back against the floor. I’m face to face with Atlas again, watching as my husband leans back against the stairwell and pumps his cock. His fingers move desperately, and I feel that heavy sensation settling on my breasts like a vibrating weight—almost like my butterflies.
Keon plows into me, and I let myself drop onto his hips. This is the pressure I’ve been wanting,needing…but it’s not enough. Because in the haze of sex, I realize I want all of them.
Allthreeof them.
I need to be filled completely.
Although, right now, it’s Atlas I’m hungry for. He’s so close, his cock so gorgeous, clearly wanting me as much as I want him. He grasps his cock and jerks himself off in desperation, the blue of his shield flickering even from here.
“Please,” I groan, my tits bouncing as I ride Keon. Atlas doesn’t even look at them; he’s interested only in my eyes, reading something within them. “Please fuck me, Atlas.”
I almost think I feel Keon falter, but it just makes him start again with renewed vigor. He yanks me down onto his lap and spears me with his cock as he raises up to meet me, thrusting violently as I lift my weight off of my knees to take him even deeper.
And I’m coming. God, I’m coming harder than I ever have in my fucking life, heat and electricity crawling over my skin like the touch of a lover. I can’t tear my gaze from Atlas, screaming out my orgasm as Keon holds me tight.
His hips fall to the floor and he sits up to catch me in his arms, pressing soft kisses against my jaw in the aftermath. He’s still hard, and feels so good I almost tell him he could stay there all night.
But I have a husband to seduce.
I look up to see said husband standing at the foot of the stairs, putting himself back in his pants. I don’t know if he came; I haven’t seen it happen yet, even though I want to very, very badly. He looks at us with something like envy as Keon strokes my hair, letting me melt against him.
“I wish I could hold you,” Atlas says quietly.
I frown.
This is too tender.
Not an interaction between an assassin and a man she’s about to kill.
“Then hold me,” I murmur. Keon stills, though he doesn’t let me out of his embrace.
Atlas looks away from me, his eyes dragging away, then up the stairs. And he doesn’t manage to look at me again as he says, “Keon, take care of her.”
And then he disappears.
Keon eases himself away from me, and I lift my hips to separate us. But he keeps me held tight, his hands tangled in my hair.
“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” he asks, his lips against my pulse.
I can’t see his face. I think he might be staying close because he doesn’t want to be overheard. “Is that really appropriate?” I ask.
“Well…” He pauses, like he’s trying to think of a reason. “Your room might be bugged, remember?”
I guess he’s right.
So I say yes.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
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