Page 69 of Keep You Close

A whimper escaped me in response, making his lips curve up slightly.

“Ride me, baby,” he murmured.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, feeling his thick, hard cast against my leg.

“You won’t,” he assured me, rocking his hips upward, making a moan escape me, and immediately erasing my reservations as the need overtook me.

It took me a moment to figure out what felt best, never having been in control before, but once I did, all thoughts about being gentle with him seemed to fly right out of my head.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as I rode him harder, faster, feeling that telltale tightening inside, knowing I was close, desperate to feel myself fall apart with him inside of me. “That’s it. Come for me,” he encouraged.

Just like that, I did, crying out, gasping for breath, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure that seemed to ping off every nerve ending.

“Oh, fuck,” Atlas growled, his hips rocking up into me, dragging it out, and as I collapsed against him, his body stiffened as he came with me.

I felt wrung out, yet somehow energized as my face buried in his neck, feeling his arm drape across my hips, and his heartbeat hammering against me.

Inexplicably, I felt the wetness flood my eyes, and before I could blink them away, they were slipping over my lower lids, down my cheeks, and onto his skin.

Feeling it, Atlas tensed under me, his fingers flexing on my hip.

“Are those bad tears?” he asked, as if knowing there was the potential for good ones.

My head shook.

Because, God, the last thing they could be were bad.

I was overwhelmed by the good.

Of this.

Of him.

Of the potential of us.

“Okay,” he said, his other hand going to the back of my neck, fingers rubbing, silently accepting the stream of happy tears until they ran dry.

Eventually, he turned, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I think we should move to the bed now,” he said. Then, just in case, “If you want me there.”

I did.

More than anything.

“Alright, hop up,” he demanded, giving my ass a playful pat, and I climbed off, falling to my ass on the couch.

He tucked himself away, then transferred pretty effortlessly to the chair, and rolled himself down the hallway and into the bathroom.

Alone, I gathered my clothes, and brought them with me to the bedroom.

“You’re not gonna need those,” Atlas said, coming up behind me as I debated slipping them back on.

Then, as if to prove his point, he moved to the side of the bed, stood, and started to draw down his own pants.

He left on the boxer briefs, likely because getting them down over the cast would be a hassle, then got into the bed, patting the spot beside him.

I didn’t hesitate.

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