Page 67 of Keep You Close

But the disappointment only lasted a moment because in the next breath, his fingers were sliding inside my panties, touching me without a barrier.

The contact of his thumb on my clit had me nearly coming undone right then and there.

“So wet for me,” Atlas murmured, voice thick, as he continued to rub those delicious, small circles.

His other fingers, though, started to slide down my cleft, finding the entrance to my body, and pressing firm little taps against it.

Until I was writhing, until my whimpers became more desperate, almost pained, as the need to feel him inside of me stole any other thoughts from my mind.

Then, little by little, I felt his fingers start to slide inside of me, creating the friction I was so desperate for until his fingers were buried deep.

His gaze shifted from my face, sliding down my body, then settling between my thighs, watching as his fingers started to withdraw, then slip all the way back in, the sensation dragging a ragged moan from my lips as my walls tightened around him.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, withdrawing, then slipping in again.

I didn’t pretend to understand how I could feel good to him when I wasn’t even touching him, but I was too far gone for pesky things such as logic to ruin the heady haze of desire I found myself engulfed by.

All I knew at that moment was the feel of his fingers inside of me, the touch of his thumb working circles.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asked, even as my body tightened, answered him for me. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned as my body tensed, as my moans became these airy, desperate sounds I’d never heard myself make before.

Until, like a jolt of electricity through my body, the orgasm crested, making me cry out, making my muscles tense, then spasm as the pleasure gripped my system.

His fingers kept working me through it, dragging it out until I was lax against the cushions, limbless, unable to move, to think, to do anything but feel the frazzled sensation in my nerves, and the way my chest was rising and falling, trying to find a normal rhythm again.

It was then I realized his fingers were still inside of me, a slight fullness I became achingly aware of with each passing second. As my body, somehow, started to climb once again. Without movement. Without any prompting.

Seeming to feel the change, his fingers started to move inside of me, little circles that had my hips writhing to intensify the sensation.

“Come here,” he demanded, voice soft, patting his lap with his free hand.

I expected him to withdraw his fingers for me to complete the task, but they stayed inside of me as he quickly lowered my panties, then as I pushed up to my knees, then lifted my leg to straddle his waist.

His fingers moved faster then as his other hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, then sealing his lips to mine.

There was nothing in the world then but the feel of him—his hard lines against my soft ones, the movement of his fingers inside of me—the taste of his lips on mine as he deepened the kiss, the scent of his cologne, subtle, yet intoxicating up this close.

“No,” I whimpered, when suddenly his fingers were sliding out of me, making me push back, watching him with confused eyes, wondering what I could have done wrong.

But as I watched, his hand lifted between us, his fingers slipping into his mouth, tasting me, making my belly tense with a different sort of desire. At seeing a man seeming to savor the taste of my desire. Which only seemed to intensify it until it was an actual pain I couldn’t ignore.

Finished, his hands went down, snagging the hem of my tee, then waiting a beat for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he drew the material up, exposing me inch by inch.

The chill in the room mingled with the heat inside of me, making my nipples harden into points as Atlas tossed the shirt away.

Finished with the task, his gaze moved down over me, and his breath exhaled with a hiss, his head shaking a bit. Almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing as his hands drifted up my belly to cup my breasts.

My head fell back as a soft moan escaped me. My eyes drifted closed as he held me, as he ran his palms over me. Then, as his thumbs found my nipples, and started to circle me.

“AJ,” Atlas called, voice soft. “Look at me,” he demanded, tone coaxing, not demanding, making my eyes open to find him watching me as his thumbs and forefingers started to roll my nipples.

The unexpected sensation had my hips jerking against him, changing their placement, so now I felt the proof of his desire pressing against me.

My hips were doing another rock against him before I could even think better of it, and the thick length of him pressing hard against me had a jolt of desire so strong moving through me that I had to focus to think past the idea of him sliding inside of me, filling me.

“Beautiful,” Atlas murmured, leaning in so his lips met the nape of my neck, making a delicious little shiver course through me.

His hands released my breasts, and I was overwhelmed by the disappointment for only a moment, until the feel of his lips and the tease of his tongue on my ear, neck, and collarbone created a different sort of pleasure.

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