“Oh God, I’m gonna come!” I scream because I can’t believe it. But I am. I do.
“Fuck,” Atlas growls as my pussy contracts on his fingers, and my asshole tightens around his thick cock.
Then I feel it. His movements are jerky, then warm, wet cum fills my ass until it’s leaking down my cheeks and thighs.
And for some reason, that is so fucking hot.
I think about asking him to take a picture. Show me what I look like dripping his cum.
But then he curses roughly, as if he’s also stunned by what just transpired between us,
He strokes my hip tenderly, pulling his softened cock out of my body and murmurs, “Don’t move.”
I try to answer, but I can’t find enough air to breathe. I’m panting.
My body is still twitching in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced.
When he comes back, he presses something warm and wet to my hole, and my thighs.
He’s cleaning me.
Then I feel something else.
Is that his tongue?
My eyes close. And Atlas places a long, slow lick against my ass cheek.
Followed by a nip.
“Ouch!”
“I’d apologize, kardhoúla, but that would be dishonest. Your ass was begging for a nibble.”
I should say something sassy back, but honestly, I feel way too spent to do more than grin.
I straighten out on the bed while he goes and tosses the rag in the bathroom. I should get up and use the facilities, and I will in a moment.
I just can’t move right now.
Atlas returns, and he slides into bed beside me. He runs his large, warm hand up my side and curls it around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
I lift my head and rest it on his chest, draping my arm around him.
I’ve never really done this. Never cuddled with a man before. Not really for lack of opportunity as much as lack of interest.
But I like this. I like how he cares for me, tends to me, and the way his big body curls around mine as he kisses my temple and gives me a squeeze just feels so right.
The fact I already told him about me—about my ex-fiancé and my PCOS diagnosis—and he didn’t run screaming is something I don’t take lightly.
He claims that all this is real, but a man like him with a lineage like his must place some value on being able to have children, and since I can’t guarantee that I have to be realistic.
Whatever infatuation Atlas has with me or my body—I intend to enjoy it.
But I’m not stupid. I know he’ll leave eventually because of his obligations. Maybe if I tell myself that enough times beforehand, it won’t hurt as much when it happens.
But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie.
Because the truth is I am in love with Atlas Stavros, and when he leaves me, it’s going to break my heart.
