Page 106 of Princes of Carnage

“Good work,” I tell them, glancing from Atlas to Quinn. “Any issues at the club?”

Quinn’s cheeks go pink, and Atlas’s jaw clenches.

“No problems,” he says. “We found a way to get into the back to see Vincent, asked our questions, and then got out of there. He knew about the alliance between Carnage and Enigma, but fortunately, he seemed more interested in making sure we remove a possible threat to him than in his beef with you.”

I nod. He’s making it sound easy and straightforward, but that doesn’t explain the clear tension that’s hanging between them or their refusal to look at each other. Atlas has tried to avoid Quinn for most of the time we’ve been living here—out of distrust or dislike, I thought, although maybe I was wrong about that.

But this? This is something different.

Narrowing my eyes, I look them over, trying to suss out what it is they’re not telling me. Atlas looks the same as always, except for the suit he’s got on, but Quinn’s chest and cheeks are slightly flushed, and her makeup is smudged. Something happened.

I glance between them, but neither of them seem like they want to say anything about what happened while they were at the club. Quinn looks like her cheeks could start a fire, they’re burning so hot, and Atlas’s face is carefully blank, trying to give nothing away. He’s not as good at it as Killian is, so I know there’s something going on.

I step closer to Quinn and reach up, running my thumb over her bottom lip as I cradle her jaw.

Her eyes flicker with something I can’t read, but she doesn’t jerk away from me. She tries to avoid my gaze at first, but there aren’t many other places she can look when she doesn’t want to look at Atlas either, so she ends up right back at me.

“You’re not telling me everything,” I murmur, raising an eyebrow. “What happened at the club, mia cara?”

Her gaze flicks to Atlas, just for a second, and her pupils dilate a little.

Well, isn’t that interesting.

“Quinn,” I say firmly, no longer asking. “Tell me what happened. I know there’s more.”

Maybe it’s my tone, or maybe she just can’t hold it in anymore. Either way, she sags a bit, biting her lip hard before she speaks.

“There were these men,” she mutters. “They thought they could put their hands on me and claim me just because we were at the club.”

My jaw clenches, pissed as fuck at the idea of some group of strangers touching my wife. This is why I insisted she not go to Eros alone. Vincent rules his club with an iron fist, which can make it a very dangerous place, despite the surface level appearance of sensual luxury.

I look from Quinn to Atlas again.

“And?” I ask.

Quinn lifts her chin in a defiant gesture I’m learning to recognize well. Her gaze finally meets mine, her gray eyes flashing. “And Atlas fucked me. So those random fuckers couldn’t.”

A strange combination of feelings rushes through me as I register her words. There’s possessiveness, flooding my veins with fury at the thought that some assholes had the nerve to touch Quinn and treat her like a random piece of meat at the club. There’s jealousy, because I wish I could have been the one to be there protecting her. The one fucking her in front of a crowd, staking my claim so they could all see it and know to back the fuck off. And underneath all of that, but rising up faster than I would have imagined… is arousal.

I can imagine what it would have been like, and heat beats through me as image after image plays out in my mind.

Without taking my gaze off Quinn, I release my hold on her jaw. Then I reach down, sliding my hand between her legs under the short black dress she’s wearing. Her panties are soaked, and it’s easy to slip them to the side so I can press two fingers against her hot, slick pussy.

“You’re wet,” I murmur, even though I’m sure she already knows. “Is that from you being turned on, or is it Atlas’s cum?”

Her cheeks flood with a dusky color, her eyes widening as her pupils dilate. She swallows hard, hesitating for a long moment before she whispers, “Both.”

My fingers press deeper into her, thrusting harder as I force Atlas’s cum and her own wetness back up inside of her. Quinn moans softly, biting her lip as she squirms against me, her thighs clenching around my hand. It’s fucking hot, seeing her like this, her cheeks dark red, her pussy so wet from being aroused.

“Did he make you come?” I ask.

Her cheeks go impossibly redder, and she just nods, clearly at a loss for words now. That suits me fine.

I smirk at her, finally dragging my fingers out of her pussy.

“I can see you enjoyed it,” I say, keeping my voice low and silky, just to see the effect it has on her. Her breathing stutters, coming faster now.

I hold my fingers up to her face, letting her see how wet and slick they are. Because of her. Because of him.

---