Page 178 of Rebel Hawke

He sucks on my earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure straight between my legs, then releases it slowly. “You’re going to come on my cock, Little Bird.”

His normally smooth voice has taken on a deep, gravelly tone that makes my pussy throb and clench around him.

I nod. “Yes…”

I’ll doanythinghe asks right now.

Anything.

“I want you to sing, Little Bird.” He growls against my lips, crushing his to mine violently. “I want anyone walking past this locker room to hear you. Do you understand me?”

I bob my head again, and he seizes my mouth as he slides one hand down between us to rub his thumb directly across my clit. The contact makes a low keening noise slip from my mouth into his. He swallows the sound with a satisfied groan, thrusting harder, and when he pinches and twists that tiny nub, a brilliant flash of white-hot light engulfs me.

My mouth falls open on a cry that rips through the locker room, reverberating off the tile surrounding us, filling my ears along with Atlas’ growl of satisfaction.

He redoubles his efforts, my hips bucking against his wildly as he pushes me through the flood of orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure threatens to drown me. An aggressive, demanding rush of ecstasy cresting and crashing over me.

I clench around his still driving cock.

“That’s it, Little Bird.” He grunts as he continues to plow into me. “Look at me.”

Still twitching, utterly overwhelmed by the sparks firing through every nerve in my body, I force my eyes open to meet his.

Pure carnal need stares back.

Jaw clenched.

Corded muscles in his neck taut under vibrant ink.

Blood flowing down the side of his face.

He looks every bit the brutal warrior he is as he finally comes on a roar that sounds half anguish and half relief.

“Fuck!” He collapses against me, and my body goes limp, only his keeping me pinned in place. His tongue snakes out over my collarbone, then he sucks there gently. “Let’s never fight again, Little Bird.”

The torment edging his words matches what I’ve felt since he walked out the door last night.

I manage a slight nod and a breathy, “Okay,” and he drags his head back, taking my cheek in his still-wrapped palm.

Blood now seeps rapidly from the wound over his eye, the Vaseline smoothed into it not enough to stop its flow, especially under the water.

“Atlas…you’re bleeding badly.”

He raises the brow, as if it doesn’t bother him to have his face split open. “That’s the last thing I’m thinking about right now while my cock is still buried inside you, Little Bird.”

I grin, but seeing the wound allows the harsh reality of the situation to set in far too quickly. The last vestiges of that floaty, post-orgasmic haze fade the longer I examine his face. “What are we going to do?”

There isn’tanyneed to expand on my question.

Atlas knows exactly what I’m asking.

He sighs and buries his face against my neck again, keeping the open wound off my skin. “I am going to make another attempt to get Satriano to let me pay off Coen’s debt.”

“What about all the money he lost, though?” Satriano just lostbillionswhen Atlas knocked out Gordon. “You’re not paying that…”

His jaw goes hard against mine, and he lifts his head. “No, I’m not. And I’ll tell him as much. Like I told Damon—it’s ahimproblem. I refuse to let him use his bad business decision against me.”

“And if he threatens me?”

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