Page 44 of The World Undone

Declan helped me understand how valuable that could be—sinking into intimacy, into your own body, when the mind grew too cloudy.

I’d do the same for Atlas, on his own terms.

My hands traced over his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his abs. I wanted all of him—to map and memorize every dip, curve, and hard line of his body.

His fingers gripped into my waist, and I could feel his struggle, that he was trying like hell to hold himself back, to be gentle, to go slow. I could feel what he wanted, and how he wanted it.

It was what I wanted too.

“Don’t,” I whispered, my voice deep and pleading as I slid my hand down the front of his sweatpants and squeezed the rigid outline of his dick. “Don’t hold back with me.” His breath shuddered against my lips. “I can take it.”

He groaned into my mouth, but I could still feel his resistance.

I climbed on top of him, pulling him into a seated position against me, and tore his shirt down the center, the rip echoing around the silent room, my nails digging divots into his back as I bit his neck.

His breath came out in hot, raspy gasps, the feel of it against my skin sending a wave of shivers across my body.

When I pulled back, caught his eyes with mine, I saw the feral desire unfolded there. Pain. He wanted it. Wanted to relish in it. For once in his life, Atlas wanted to give up control.

To me.

The recognition, the feel and flavor of his lust washed over me, and I felt my succubus powers flare to life, saw the way his body trembled with excitement as the power swept over him.

He groaned, head falling back on the pillow as he sank into it.

When he reached for me, I pressed down his chest, keeping him locked there. I slid over him, my confidence blazing with every pulse of his desire I felt lapping against mine.

I started slow, teasing, light—my lips pressing gently to his, before I moved down his jaw, his neck, his chest. When I reached his nipple, I bit—hard enough to sting, but not break skin.

His dick throbbed against the wet heat between my thighs, my underwear and shorts already drenched with my own desire.

My tongue traced a delicious path down his abs, stopping only at the low waistband of his sweatpants where the lines of his lower stomach dipped.

Shifting between his legs, I grinned up at him, his eyes glowing pools of brown and yellow, dick tenting his pants almost comically.

But when I pulled them down, any humor fell away, my mouth watering at the sight of him.

He wasn’t wearing boxers and the light brown tip of his cock was already slick with pre-cum. His shaft was smooth, solid—the veins lining it angry with desire. I traced them with my tongue, groaning as I took him into my mouth.

It was almost too much to take, but I relaxed my throat, took him in until he slid down as far as I could pull him in, then pulled back, my lips suctioned tight around him until he was free again.

“Tell me what you want, Atlas.” I hardly recognized my voice, the intoxication of his desire suddenly the only thing I could focus on—like my succubus powers had just been offered an all-you-can-eat-buffet. And she was fucking starving. “I promise that I’ll give it to you.”

In a flash he sat up, grabbed both of my arms, and flipped me. A surprised grasp ripped from my mouth, when I found myself on my back beneath him.

His eyes were wild and hungry, like a predator caught mid-hunt as they found mine—his prey.

I shot him a teasing smile as he ripped my shirt, just as I’d done to his.

I was wrong. We both were. He didn’t want to be powerless. He wanted to play. To fight. The permanent push and pull between us, the unbridled rage and control restructured into desire. As it had always been, even when we couldn’t define or recognize it ourselves.

My coy smile transformed into a sharp gasp as he slid a hand between my legs and cupped me, the pressure and heat of his palm against me enough to shred any control I had left in this scenario.

He smirked, an arrogant expression shaping his face, as he slid a finger under my shorts and ran it over me, the sound of my slickness loud and undeniable in a room punctuated only by our breaths.

“I want to see if we can get you even wetter than this,” he brought his finger to his lips and sucked my desire off of it, lips parting like I was a flavor he’d been dying to taste for years, “think that’s possible, Bentley?”

With his help, I kicked off my shorts and underwear, too locked in his stare to form words.

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