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“I’m always honest with you…within reason.”
He snickers, but his eyes narrow. “I don’t know about that. Ever since I went down on you, you’ve been holding something back.”
Again, my eyes search the room, like I’m waiting for Mom or Glen to spring out and gaze at us in shock and horror.
“We both have a lot we hold back,” I say. “Like, I don’t know why you were so eager for me not to hang with your friends the other night.”
“What did you mean when you texted me that?” he asks, avoiding my question.
“We’ve been texting stuff like that for a while. What does that one dumb text matter?”
Why is he so hung up on this?
“Because I don’t think it was a joke, and that’s why you keep changing the subject.” He folds his arms and leans against the wall adjacent to the wardrobe.
This is I-Won’t-Be-Satisfied-Until-I-Have-An-Answer Atlas.
“Just be honest, Troy.”
It reminds me of what he told me when he was blowing me, leaving me filled with pressure, torturing me for release. It was one thing to tell him what I wanted in the moment. It’s another to say some of the things that have crossed my mind since.
“Wanna know what I think?” I grab my blazer and toss it on. “I think you’re asking me because you want something from me, so why don’t you just say what that is?”
“Because I think my way’s more fun.”
I laugh. “Of course you do.”
“Now answer me. What do you want to do to my holes?”
“You’re being weird.”
“Good. I like weird, and you clearly do too.”
“Just drop it.”
Atlas rolls his eyes. “Come on, T. You’re being ridiculous. After what we’ve done together already, how bad could it possibly be?”
He has no idea what he’s inviting, but I’m tempted to take him up on it, if only to see where he’s going with this. “You want to play this stupid game? Fine. You asked for it.”Just spit it out.“You mentioned pegging. Did you ever do that with any of your girlfriends?”
He shakes his head.
“Good. ’Cause I want that ass to myself.” My voice is a low growl; I don’t know where this is coming from. “I want to be the one to introduce you to your prostate. Very slowly. Not just to let you know how good it can feel to have something rubbing against it—that’s easy—but to introduce you to every crevice, so you’ll always know the difference every centimeter makes.”
He’s not cringing or freaking out. Does that mean he wants that?
Or do I just wish he wanted that?
“And that’s all before I fuck you, Atlas. Watching your face as I open you up, molding your ass to my cock. Studying your expressions to know exactly what movements hit you just right. And then riding your ass, not letting up until you come without even touching yourself, making the pleasure so intense and excruciating for you that by the time I’m finished, I’ll know every possible way you could say my name.”
His Adam’s apple shifts as he gulps.
Maybe I actually made Atlas McCallister uncomfortable.
Whatever. He asked for this.
“So you’d just want my ass?”
I’m surprised by the question, but I go along with it. “I said your holes. And I meant your holes.”
