Page 25 of My Soul for Sale

“Yes!” she shouts. “Oh! Fuck yes.”

I groan as the orgasm starts to build. Picking up my pace slightly, she tightens around me and I know she’s close once more.

My balls start to tingle and warmth rushes through me.

“Come, Sloane. Come on my cock,” I growl and pinch her clit.

Her eyes clamp shut and her pussy spasms around me as she clenches. The sound of her coming undone is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard.

My cock jerks inside of her almost violently, releasing rope after rope of cum.

When I’m spent, I lean down and kiss her nose, before pulling out and groaning as I watch my cum leak from her hole.

“I’ll say it again. So fucking hot.”

I silently make my way to the bathroom attached to my bedroom, the floorboards creaking softly beneath my weight. Turning on the light, I reach for a rag, feeling its softness between my fingers, and soak it in warm water.

I quickly clean myself up, sadly washing away the proof of what I just did.

Once I'm done, I rinse the rag and head back to the bedroom, finding Sloane lying exactly as I left her. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I take in her peaceful form, the faint sound of her snores filling the air.

Chuckling softly to myself, I bend down to clean her up, tossing the rag into the hamper, a perfect "slam dunk" before shutting off the lights. Quietly, I crawl into bed beside her, pulling her close to my chest and draping the blanket over us both.

I bury my nose in her hair, feeling her warmth against me, and sigh. "I won't let you leave me again, Sloane." My voice is barely a breath against her skin. "I love you."

Closing my eyes, I focus on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and the sound of her breathing, letting it wash over me.

This is what I've dreamed of for so long.

As sleep begins to claim me, I hold Sloane a little tighter, knowing that she's here beside me and she's not going anywhere. In this moment, lying beside her, I feel a sense of completeness, and I know that this is where she belongs.

Chapter Fourteen

Sloane

I slowly blink my eyes open. The morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. I stretch like a cat, feeling the heat radiating from the body behind me, a reminder of last night. It takes a moment for the fog of sleep to lift, but when it does, a realization hits me like a ton of bricks—I'm in Atlas' bed.

Images from last night flood my mind, each one hotter than the last. The way his lips felt on mine, the electric touch of his hands trailing over my skin, the soft whispers of affection that filled the air—it was everything I had ever imagined and more. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I recall the look on his face as he came.

Breaking through the blissful haze, a thought nags at me; why did Ali get a restraining order against them? How did I not know? And more importantly, why didn't Grandma tell me?

I shift slightly, and when something hard presses against my ass, a muffled giggle escapes me. Glancing down, I notice Atlas' arm draped possessively around my waist.

With a sigh, I carefully remove it and slip out of bed, the cool air making me shiver. Tiptoeing across the hardwood floor, I make my way to the bathroom, flicking on the light.

I turn on the shower and the sound of running water fills the room. Stepping in, the hot spray washes away the remnants of sleep and the smell of sex. I tilt my head back, letting it cascade over me, releasing some of the tension in my sore muscles.

I reach for the shampoo, the scent of cedarwood and citrus a solid reminder that I’m in Atlas’ shower. With gentle fingertips, I massage it into my scalp relishing the sensation.

Leaning my head back, I rinse away the suds and grab the body wash. Its fragrance awakening my senses.

After what feels like an eternity, I reluctantly turn off the water and step out onto the plush bath mat, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel. I dry myself off before reaching for Atlas' toothbrush, my lips quirking up at the thought of sharing such an intimate object with him. I brought mine but I left my bag downstairs and I’m not making two trips.

Once my teeth are brushed and my hair is wrapped in a towel turban, I leave the bathroom, feeling refreshed. My eyes fall on Atlas' dresser, and without hesitation, I reach for one of his shirts, relishing in the familiar scent that clings to the fabric.

As I pull it over my head, I can't help but wonder what the day will bring. Despite the uncertainty looming on the horizon, one thing is for certain—I wouldn't trade last night for anything in the world.

Exiting his room quietly, I make my way downstairs. The aroma of coffee and bacon wafts through the air, drawing me like a moth to a flame. When I enter the kitchen, I find a plate piled high with sizzling bacon and perfectly cooked eggs. But Ripley is nowhere to be seen. They redid the kitchen since I’ve been here; it looks amazing. The rich dark wood cabinets add depth, while the glossy black countertops bring a modern touch to the space.

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