Page 59 of Atlas

“My god.” Laughter is top tier wrong right now, but maybe not. Not when she’s bending over that table again for no reason other than to give me a show of that hot red lingerie set and all her delicious curves. “You never cease to amaze me, Willa.”

She twists over her shoulder and winks at me. “I hope that’s in a good way.”

“In a very good way.”

She wriggles her hips, dipping one knee in and then the other like she’s warming up for a race. “What was the pose that made you hardest today during yoga? Was it this one?” Hinging at the waist, she leans over and grabs her ankles.

Fuck.

I jackknife off the bed so fast that I just about give myself whiplash. Do I care? Not at all. I snap my shirt off and toss it into the chair with Willa’s clothes. My boots go next, one on each step, and by the next one, my belt is undone.

She straightens and whips around, stopping my frantic undressing. “Save some for me!” Her hands on my jeans, working them open and sliding down the zipper, send all the blood flow in my body straight to my dick. It’s not a surprise that when she strips my jeans and boxers away, it stands straight up, leaking precum against my abs.

She drinks me in, her gaze finally resting on my arms. “I know that you’re pretty meh about tattoos, but the ones you have are so well done. They suit you. Everyone should have two sleeves. I was thinking about starting one of my own.”

“Whatever you want, whenever you want it, it would only enhance how beautiful you are.”

“Whoa. You’re the only guy in the world who would ever not tell a woman what to do with their body.”

“There are plenty of guys in the world who wouldn’t. I have to believe there’s hope for men yet.”

“I still have the best one in the world. Do you realize what a crazy sequence of events that was to lead us here? If it hadn’t been for your club’s ex lawyer and me meeting Bullet in the nightclub that night…”

That’s just her side of the equation.

Her eyes darken and she runs her hand down her body, starting at her breasts, trailing over her stomach, and dippingunder her panties. “I’m really, really glad that we’re here now. You naked is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s impossible, because I know that you own a mirror.”

“Corny.” Her eyes flutter shut as she touches herself beneath the silky fabric. My dick gives her a standing ovation in the form of still standing straight to attention. “But I like it.” She removes her hand, fingers glistening, and paints my bottom lip. I don’t give her a chance to pull away. I grasp her wrist lightly and suck her juices off them, the sweet tang of her exploding on my tongue.

Fuck, I need to touch her.

I need to be inside of her.

She feels the same way. Her other hand grasps my shaft and pumps along my dick. One single stroke and I’m throbbing so badly that I think I’m going to stroke out.

“That feels good,” I whisper, the words pulled straight from my gut. “So good.”

She runs her fingers over my tip, teasing the head and then working her way to the sensitive opening. She knows exactly what I like. She knows my body, even though we haven’t done this many times yet.

I’m half desperate right now because we left things… unfinished last time and it’s been days.

I want to tell her thanks being here with me right now, but she knows. I want to tell her I love her, but I can’t get the words out. I don’t want it to sound lame, and telling someone you lovethem when they’re holding your cock isn’t how I want it to go down.

She guides my hand to her breast and I cup it over her bra. With the pushup there, it’s more than a handful, so deliciously heavy. She stands on her tiptoes and slants her lips over mine, licking and humming as she tastes herself there. I love that she’s not afraid to take the lead, take control, change it up, and be adventurous. It’s so hot that she’s not afraid to do anything. She’s not embarrassed by her appetite for sex and she’s comfortable with the things she likes.

That alone helped me relax even though my head threatened to take me out of the moment like it always does. Her boldness has helped me feel at home in my own skin. I’ve never been insecure about my body. It’s a finely tuned machine from all the working out I do to try to give my brain a hand. It was everything else that I had so much trouble with and that always bled into every part of my life.

Right now, I’m entirely focused. I’m concentrating on nothing except the way her fingers feel threaded through my hair, tugging a little bit too hard so that I can focus on the sensation while she devours my mouth, works my cock, and steps so close that she fuses our bodies together.

I lose myself in the simple and complex pleasure of kissing her. I try not to twin my arms around her or snake them down to touch her. I don’t want to hike her up or tumble us onto the bed. I just want to stand, to be, to make this last as long as it possibly can.

I let her set the pace. Eventually, the kissing turns into grinding. She writhes against me, trapping my hard dick between our bodies and rubbing it until the friction drives memad and the kissing gets more frantic, with teeth and with tongues.

She rubs against me again, angling her hips so that my sensitive cockhead hits lower, her panties instead of her skin. I hiss against the lightning bolt of pleasure that cleaves me in half. She responds by tugging my bottom lip with her teeth, licking away the sting while I groan again. She gyrates her hips, dry humping me with her panties in the way until I’m panting against her mouth.

“Atlas,” she whimpers, grabbing my ass and digging her short nails in.

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