Page 22 of Guarded By Atlas

It should. God knows what Atlas is describing is nightmare in the making, so why does it turn me on to think of him so obsessed over me that he would go to such extreme lengths? There’s clearly a loose wire somewhere in my brain.

“Do you know what terrifies me the most?” I ask, climbing to my feet and taking slow steps toward the man. I stop in front of him, fingers itching to reach out and touch, but I keep my hands by my sides. “Thinking of a moment when you don’t want me.”

“That would never happen—”

“Please, let me get this out,” I say, giving in to the need to touch him as I bring my hands to his chest, trailing the hard lines of his torso. “The first time they kidnapped me, I was scared out of my mind, but a part of me accepted that it was the end. I didn’t want to die, no, but I tried to accept that I would.” My hands pause on his pecs, firm and powerful. “This time, I had so much regret, and I didn’t want to just accept it. I regretted that I hadn’t pushed you off that bike when you wanted to leave me alone.” It does my heart good to spy the smile that graces his mouth. “I regretted that I could have done a hundred things in our last moments together, and what I chose to do was walk away.”

“You were angry.”

“I was.” I smile. “But I was also hurt. Then just as I was sure it was over, you bellowed through the doors like a raging bull on steroids, grabbed the knife, and rescued me from a monster.”

“I will let you shove me off the bike next time to make up for what happened today.”

I chuckle, sliding my hands up his neck and locking them on his nape as I meet his gaze, flushing deeply at the heat I read in them. “I can think of other ways you can make it up to me.”

His brow wings up and those eyes darken with lust. “Do you want to tell me, or should I guess?”

“I’ll let you figure it out on your own,” I say, pushing up until our lips are only a breath apart. “It won’t be easy though. You hurt my feelings, and it’ll take a lot to—”

His mouth crashes down on mine, hard, and then we’re kissing. His hand drops to my waist and then down to my butt, pulling me against him and to the press of his erection. My mind goes blissfully blank as our tongues search around one another. I whimper against his mouth as my sex pulses with need, the hand massaging my ass only fanning the fire.

The kiss is hot and dirty, nearly obscene, but I can’t get enough of the man as I comb a hand through his hair, crying out when he breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down my throat.

“God, you’re perfect,” he rasps into my skin, sliding his left hand up and under my top, tugging down my bra and palming my breasts. My back arches with a sob when he pinches my pebbling nipple between his fingers, rolling the bud until it’s aching and sensitive. “I must’ve been out of my goddamned mind to think I could even go on for more than a few hours without you.” He pushes back to look at me, his eyes heated as he grabs the top and yanks it over my shoulders. “I’ll be a selfish bastard now and allow myself to have you. So fucking perfect, but mine!” He reaches back and unclasps my bra before sliding it off my shoulders. I shiver at the evening chill that brushes my nipples, but it doesn’t last as Atlas bends down to lick them.

I cry out when he takes one into his mouth and suckles so gently, it has a tremble racking my body and my sex flooding with arousal. I grip his hair, holding him in place as his tongue flicks over my nipples.

I could have been robbed of this, died without quite living or experiencing his sinful touch. Without touching him and giving him as much pleasure as he gives me.

“I want to feel you,” I tell him, pulling him up by the hair to kiss him. My hands drop to his shoulders and tug desperately at his jacket before attacking his T-shirt with the need to feel the press of his naked skin against mine. To feel his heartbeat against mine and remind me that he made sure I still have one.

My eyes drop to his crotch, and I can see the massive bulge, his erection pushing hard against his jeans. My sex pulses at the thought of having him inside me, his massive girth stretching me deliciously. I want this—him. I don’t imagine there will ever be a time in my life when I won’t.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls, and I pull my eyes back to his to find them locked on me. “I want to take it slow, earn my forgiveness, but the way you’re staring at me tears at my control. I want to make love to you, baby, not rut you against the wall like some mindless beast.”

“Yes,” I whimper, my brain going hazy with need, body trembling with the urgency to sate every pulsing nerve. “I want that. God, I really, really want that!” To prove it, my hands drop to his jeans, tugging down the zipper and pulling them open. I swallow hard when his cock bobs out, hard and angry. He groans when I stroke him, running my fingers up and down his length, feeling him grow impossibly bigger in my grip.

“Marie—”

“Take me,” I beg, my sex trembling with need, wanting to feel every inch of him inside of me, then his cum when he comes apart. “I don’t want slow. And I don’t want gentle!”

“Fuck!” he growls, nudging my hand away before yanking my pants down. I find myself backed to the wall the second I’ve stepped out of them, and a hand lifts my left leg to his hip. He uses his free hand to guide his cock to my entrance, rubbing it upand down my slit. “Is this what you want? To see me lose control and pound your creamy little pussy?”

“God, yes.”

“You are so fucking wet, sweetheart, dripping all over my cock, and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” I whimper when he nudges his cock against my entrance, spreading and stretching me with his fat shaft. “Going to make you scream, baby, you better hang on tight because I’m not stopping until I’ve filled this pussy with my cum.”

His words have barely registered before he slams forward, forcing a shudder down my body as he fills me with his massive cock. I cry out, my back bowing when he begins thrusting in and out, barely giving me a chance to adjust to his girth before he’s taking me, hammering his cock in a vicious rhythm.

“Oh, God… Oh!”

I bury my face in his shoulder and bite hard at his skin to mute the sounds. The walls are mostly soundproof, but there is a threat of alerting the neighbors who are probably more sensitive to noises after what happened. From the dangerous glint I see in his eyes, I don’t trust Atlas to stop if someone comes knocking.

God, I asked for this, practically begged him for it, and now I can hardly breathe through the ecstasy.

“You are mine!” he growls, pulling out before slamming back in and making me sob as he brushes against that sweet spot inside me. Atlas drops the hand holding my hips up and puts one arm around my waist and the other beneath my ass before hoisting me up to the wall. I cry out as the move sends him deeper into me, wrapping my legs around his waist to hold steady, and then his hips are moving again, his cock slamming in and out of my pussy, flesh sliding against flesh, and our lungs sharing the air between us.

It’s as hot as it is intimate. And I revel in every second, loving the feel of his firm muscles against my soft and meeting every fevered thrust. Every assault on my senses as his cock brushes all the right spots makes me teeter dangerously close to the edge only he has ever brought me to.

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