Page 60 of Atlas Uncharted

I nodded again.

He stepped closer, his voice low. “No. Use your words, baby.”

It felt strange, but I obeyed. “Yes, I remember.”

“Good,” he said, his voice rougher now. He reached behind me, nudging me closer to the bathroom sink. “Now, grab the sink. And be quiet.”

“What? What you mean grab the sink? “ I asked, my voice somewhere between disbelief and curiosity.

“I mean grab the sink” he replied, his eyes darkening. Before I could say anything more, he brought his hand down firmly on my ass—not painful, but enough to make me gasp, the thick towel softening the blow. “You told me last night I could spank you if you were bad, remember?” he teased.

I flinched at the memory, my cheeks burning. “I did, but I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Too late for second thoughts,” he interrupted, snatching the towel from me, goose bumps erupted on my flesh, making his breath seem warmed was against my ear. “Now, do what I said. Hands on the sink, facing the mirror. Now.” His tone left no room for argument, and I figured he would just tease me back, like he always did, then pull away.

I braced myself against the sink. Legs spread apart.

He stepped closer. I watched him in the mirror as he leaned in. His lips trailed down my spine.

I shivered, a not so quiet hiss escaping me as he began massaging my ass.

“Atlas,” I whispered. “They’re right outside.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against my skin. “You didn’t care when you were teasing me right in front of them. Why should I care now?”

His hand ended up firm on the back of my neck, keeping me in place.

“Today, I’m in control. Every question I ask, you’re going to answer with ‘yes, Sir.’ You understand?”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing, but the thrill of the command was undeniable. “Yes, Sir,” my voice came out shaky.

His hand slid lower, resting just above my ass, his fingers tracing small, lazy circles on my skin. My breath caught, and I couldn’t help the slight arch of my back, silently begging for more. I watched him in the mirror; his eyes were fixed on my ass as he chewed his bottom lip.

“Remember,” he said, his voice suddenly softer, “your friends are right outside. If you don’t want them to hear you, you’d better be quiet. Do you think you can manage that?”

“Yes, Sir,” I breathed, biting my lip to keep from making any noise. The thought of being caught, of someone knocking on the door to see what’s taking so long, sent a rush of heat through me. I pressed my thighs together, my pussy so wet and throbbing.

He chuckled softly, pleased with himself. “Good girl.” His hand moved lower, cupping my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. “I can take my time with you, right?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, even though every part of me was trembling.

He bent over me, his chest pressing against my back, his mouth close to my ear. “You’re going to be patient, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, the words slipping out easily, almost reflexively now.

He slid two fingers between my thighs, finding me slick already. He groaned from deep in his throat. I had to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. His fingers moved slowly, teasing my folds, rubbing against my clit, but without giving me enough pressure to find any real relief.

“You want more?” he asked, his tone mocking, like he already knew the answer.

“Yes, Sir,” I said, the words coming out desperate.

He smiled—I could see it in the mirror—a slow, wicked grin. “You’re so wet for me. You really don’t care if they hear, do you?”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and excitement. “No, Sir,” I admitted.

His fingers slid inside me, deep and slow, and I had to bury my face in my arm to stifle the moan that rose in my throat. The stretch, the pressure—everything was too much and not enough at the same time. He started a steady rhythm, but it was slow—too slow, just enough to keep me on edge.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

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