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His hips move rhythmically,beautifully—and more gently than I might like. But it’s good, because he’s big, and I’m horny, and I don’t want him to come until he’s inside me anyway. He lets his head roll back for a moment, and I just keep looking up at him, waiting for his signal like his obedient little slut.
It’s so, so easy to be his whore.
It would be even easier to be his wife.
I would let him come in my mouth—and I would swallow everything he had to give—but he pulls out suddenly, taking himself in hand. He grips himself tight, but doesn’t move, hissing out a breath as he rakes his other hand through his hair.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
“Thank you, husband,” I say, my voice hoarse.
He looks down at me, then reaches out to touch my lips with his thumb. It’s so tender that I feel my chin tremble. Nope. No no no. Now isnotthe time to cry, Penn. He wipes the saliva from my lip, then sets his hand on my face as I look up at him.
“Promise me, wife,” he says.
“Anything,” I whisper.
“Promise me you mean me no harm,” he says, “and I’ll breed you, just like you wanted.”
A shudder goes through me, and I press my tits out toward him. Fuck, I’m still fully dressed—but I’m so wet that it’s got to be soaking through my leggings right now. I want him to touch every inch of me, to rig me up with all the body jewelry he wants, to make me his queen.
I barely know this man, but I know I can trust him.
And I want him to know that he can trust me.
“I swear, Atlas,” I say. “I love you. I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to.”
And I know it’s absurd, but it’s the fucking truth.
He bends, looping his arm around my waist and pulling me to my feet. This is the most intimate we’ve ever been, face to face, Atlas looking into my eyes. I’m breathless, lost in the heat of the moment, watching an aurora of color dance through his irises.
“You scare me,” he says. He’s so close that his breath ghosts against my neck.
“You scare me, too,” I reply.
His hands slide possessively over my hips, and I take the cue to wrap my legs around him. We’re close enough that I could just get in the bed myself—but why would I, when I could let him hold me instead? One hand lifts me until I’m rubbing against his cock, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the sensation.
“I’m done being afraid,” he says.
His other hand clicks open my cuffs.
I blink at him, feeling suddenly shy. There are so many pieces of him I’ve thought about touching, and now I don’t even know where to start. So I raise my hands delicately to his face, placing them on his strong jaw.
“Me too,” I say.
I tilt my head and kiss him gently, softly. He never lets go of me as we kiss, and when his tongue presses tentatively against my mouth, I let him in.
I groan as he kisses me deeper, harder. His tongue fucks my mouth like his cock did a few minutes ago, thrusting in and out. I rub myself against his shaft, and he grips my ass tighter, pulling himself away with the reluctance of a starving man.
“You asked me to mate you,” he says. “And you’ve been a good girl…so you should be rewarded.”
“Yes, husband,” I pant, falling into the role.
“Ask me, wife,” he says. “Ask for my Gift.”
“Please?” I say. “Please give me your Gift. I want to be yours.”
It isn’t a lie.
