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His visceral reaction beats against me, but I do not know what he wants from me. I want his mouth back on my intimate flesh. I thrust my hips upward in silent supplication.
"Say it," he demands.
My brain addled by unfulfilled pleasure, I can only cant my hips again, seeking more of his mouth.
"Say you will not die. I will not let you."
His sheer arrogance gets through my arousal fogged brain. "Pretty sure that's not your decision. You are not God."
"I am your lover," he says, like that's something more powerful. "I will never let you go."
If anyone can hold onto me by sheer will alone, it is this man.
"Don't let me go." It's a plea for so much more than sex, but I do my best not to acknowledge that. Even to myself.
"Say it."
"Not dying right now. I need." Him. His mouth. A climax.
The original Atlas held the weight of the world on his shoulders. This Atlas could give the ancient son of Titan a run for his money in stubbornness though.
He proves it by taking me to the edge over and over again, no matter how much I beg for and demand my release. Only when my body is covered in a sheen of sweat and tears of frustration leak from my eyes does he finally allow me to come.
Two big fingers drill into my intimate tunnel while he suckles my clit with the strength of a vacuum. My orgasm blasts through me like a case of C-4 going off. I scream so loud and so long, my throat hurts.
Feeling light-headed, I sink, boneless, into the couch. My body is so replete, even the aftershocks of my seismic climax can't make my muscles tense again.
Fingers work behind my head and then the tie is being removed. Light assaults my eyes and I wince, closing them.
"Look at me," Atlas orders. "I want your eyes on me."
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light and then I'm able to focus on him. His handsome face is set in rigid lines, his gaze feral. I release one of my legs so I can wrap my fingers around his turgid erection.
Rearing up, he puts his hand over mine and jacks himself off with our combined grip. Our eyes are locked the whole time, his showing an intensity of feeling that cannot be mere lust.
"Yes, like that," he says, as if I have anything to do with the strength of our grip, or the speed of our hands moving over the hard column of flesh.
Then his face sets in a rictus of pleasure and he shouts my name, ejaculating all over my vulva. Globs of his warm semen hit my sensitive flesh and send residual waves of pleasure through my core. He keeps my hand wrapped tightly around his sex as he prolongs his own pleasure.
"Keep your hand there," he demands as he removes his own to rub his essence into my nether lips, scooping some on his fingers, pushing it inside me.
Tingles of pleasure, that can't quite turn into arousal in my exhausted body, follow his fingers' path.
I am connected to him on an intimate level I never experienced in my three-year long marriage.
Why this man? How is the bond between us so strong already?
~ ~ ~
I wake up surrounded by familiar heat in an unfamiliar bed. The mattress is harder than mine and bigger.
Atlas's bed is huge, like the man it belongs to. The man whose arm holds me so tightly, my body is flush with his. The need to pee forces me to try to squirm out from under the heavy appendage.
His hold tightens and pulls me back into his heat.
I groan. "Atlas, I have to pee," I hiss.
Mumbling, he nuzzles my hair, keeping me close in his sleep.
