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Atlas does this thing with his arms, where he closes them around me and hauls me into his lap, all without breaking the kiss.
Then, most cautiously, he adds his tongue into the kiss, and I’m done.
I’m a hot melted mess, like a chocolate bar left out in the sun where when you go to pick it up, it feels more like chocolate milk in the wrapper. On instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist and rock my hips against his. I gasp when I feel the bulge in his jeans. I’m pretty sure that’s not his phone because no one keeps their phone in their front pocket. I’m also sure it’s not the work gloves he was wearing earlier when he helped me move things, and he definitely isn’t keeping a random pipe or baseball bat stashed in there.
I let out a whimper as my va-jay decides that even if he does use his jeans as a storage locker for hard objects, she doesn’t care. She’s more than happy with whatever is pressed up against her, sending white-hot heat curling through my body and making my cells, veins, and other anatomy sing like they’re auditioning for one of those talent shows.
Atlas cradles the back of my head with his hand, guiding my face and tilting it just right for him to deepen the kiss. And by deepen, I mean to use his tongue more fully to stroke mine until I’m like a wet noodle writhing and collapsing and whimpering in his lap. My panties are beyond soaked, and when I inhale, it’s not the steak dinner I’m smelling. It’s me, and how aroused I am. I should maybe be a bit embarrassed about that, but right now? It’s impossible to feel embarrassed. Scenting my own arousal only makes me more turned on, which is seriously like a level six hundred and eighty out of ten.
I arch my back as Atlas uses his tongue to dance with mine, stroking it so hotly that I see stars. My nipples could probably cut right through the sports bra I have on now, and as Atlas’ fingers tangle in my hair and he groans, the sound vibrating through me, I decide he’s not just a Greek god. He’s also a—hot picnic in the backyard behind the house he just miraculously made shiny and new—kissing god.
His hips flex against mine, and his hard bulge hits the spot between my legs, which is basically a big red button that triggers ultra-meltdown with all the flashing red lights, making my entire body go up in flames. He’s still doing crazy things with his tongue, and I’m whimpering and moaning and swirling my own tongue in response. At this point, if he wanted to use his miracle tongue or sexy lips all over my body, I wouldn’t protest.
As if he’s reading my mind, he licks my lips almost lazily, indolently, like I’m made of ultra-sweet chocolate, then tips his head back and groans like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. At the same time, his hand dips into the waistband of my leggings. With a moan, I throw my head back and rock my hips forward.
“God…Atlas…”
“So wet here already,” he groans as he pushes my panties aside. “So beautiful.”
His index finger sweeps over my heated folds, and I buck into his hands. I throw my head back, and at the same time, my eyes fly open, and I realize we’re outside. In the backyard. We might be hidden by the house, and the road might be angled in another direction, but still. It’s far too light out here, and anyone could technically see us if they drove past. I’m not into being an exhibitionist, so I panic a little.
“Inside,” I pant. “Too bright out here. Too many cars. Too much gravel.”
That doesn’t exactly make sense, but he gets it. He shifts, gathers me in his arms, and picks me up while he stands up. I’m sure that requires a shit ton of strength, but Atlas makes it look easy. His eyes are blown to black when I sneak a look up at his face.
His long strides eat up the backyard, and we go careening over the porch and crashing into the kitchen. He sets me down on the countertop, right where I had just made our now-forgotten dinner, and starts working my leggings off.
“This okay, babe?” he asks in his deep, lovely voice made deeper because there’s a new inflection to it. It’s an inflection I’m not very experienced with, especially when it comes to someone using it on me, but I think it might be desire.
“More than okay.” I shift on the countertop, letting him peel the leggings away. I throw my head back again when he parts my legs and steps between them. And babe? I never thought that would be sexy, but coming off his tongue, it sounds kind of crazy and wonderful.
