I watch as her expression lights up, and her hands fly to her mouth. “Atlas.” Cora doesn’t say anything else; she just stares at her reflection and the tattoo that starts at the bottom of her shoulder blade and stretches up to right where it meets her collarbone. I wanted her to have it somewhere she could cover if she needed to, especially for her job at the library. I know how much her appearance means to her.
“So, do you like it?”
“Atlas… I don’t like it,” she begins, making my heart freeze.
What?
Chapter Forty
Cora
This is not how I saw the night going. I thought we’d have his party and then head back to my house or maybe his. We haven’t been there yet, and I’m dying to see where Atlas calls home.
When Atlas asked if I trusted him and told me what his wish was, I had to agree. I’ve been wanting a tattoo for a while, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Somehow, he captured it all on his own. If there were a perfect tattoo, this would be it.
Staring at my reflection in his lap, I take in the slope and the colors, the details, and I’m in awe of his talent. He drew this just for me. There’s not another person who’s going to have it, and that makes it feel even more special. Yeah, it’s sore, but I know that’s pretty typical after listening to the guys for so long.
“So, do you like it?” he asks, breaking me out of my stare.
“Atlas, I don’t like it.” I panic when I feel him freeze under me. Pulling back to look at him, I hold his face in my hands. “I love it. Thank you.” I smash my lips to his. He sits for a minute stunned, then kisses me back.
Taking control of the kiss, he slides his tongue into my mouth,and I immediately suck on it. Grinding my hips against his groin, I swallow the moan he lets out. His hands slide around my waist, pulling me harder against the erection I feel growing under me. Careful not to touch my shoulder, he moves his hand into my hair, tangling his fingers in the loose curls.
Pulling back to suck in a breath of air, I yank his shirt over his head. I need to feel his skin on mine. Trailing my hands across his chest, I graze his nipples with my fingertips. His dark eyes are blown out with lust, and when he throws his head back on a groan, I latch my lips to his neck to kiss and nip at his skin. He tastes like mine.
Atlas unhooks my bra and gently pulls the straps down my arms, careful not to disturb his new work. It’s like he’s determined not to ruin his brand on my skin. He’s leaving his mark, one place at a time.
“Atlas,” I murmur as I rock myself against his hips.
“Firefly.” He groans, thrusting into me from below. “Do you really like it?” he asks before latching onto one of my nipples. Leaning toward the other one. “Tell me you like it,” he demands.
“Fuck. I like it; I like it a lot,” I cry out, holding his head in place.
I’m not lying. I once told Atlas my favorite flower was a dahlia, and he remembered. The tattoo has two flowers. One of them is a single, long-stemmed dahlia, shaded with blue tones that remind me of the sky, but I’m not sure what the other is. At the bottom of the flower, there are two fireflies. One of them is lit up with a golden yellow orange color, and the other is lit yellow as it flies toward it, wings spread.
I pull his lips back to mine and raise up on my knees. I need more. As if reading my mind, Atlas grabs the waistband of my tights and yanks. They come apart easily at the seam, and he shoves them down out of the way. Right now, I can’t find it in me to care.
“Fuck, I need you.” He groans. “Tell me I can have you.” Pulling my nipple into his mouth, he tugs hard, eliciting a cry from me. His hands cup my ass as he grinds me against him. I’m so wet there’s no way there’s not a spot on his jeans. I reach for his belt and undo it, lifting my hips at the same time.
“You can have me,” I promise, heart beating fast.
“Do you need me?”
“Yes!” I cry as he thrusts his hips into me. I tug on his hair, pulling his head back. Looking into his eyes, I whisper it again, this time against his lips, “Of course I need you.”
It’s like a switch is flipped, and I see the moment he goes feral. Atlas lifts his hips and shoves his jeans and boxers to his knees, then pulls my underwear to the side, impaling me on his cock in one go. He’s so hard and thick, but he slides in easily.
“Fuck, Cora. Now you’re never getting away from me. Death, distance, time—none of it matters. You’re fuckingmine.”
He thrusts wildly into me from below. I feel my panties pulling against my body with every thrust, and it adds to the sensations. Every time he bottoms out, it’s almost painful with how deep he is.
“Oh my God, it feels so good.” I tip my head back and grind down on him as I arch my back.
“It’s not God fucking you, Cora.” He freezes and leans forward, then sinks his teeth into my neck, making me cry out. Moving my hands to his shoulders, I use his muscular body for support as I rotate my hips against his, seeking more contact.
“You can call for God all you want, but he’s not here. He’s not the one making you scream and moan. It’s me, and you better remember that.” He thrusts back into me while he smacks his palm against my ass. “But you better believe I’m going to worship you.” He pants with each thrust.
The only sounds in the shop are our breathing and the sound of our skin slapping against each other. The chair squeaks and groans every time I drop back onto his lap. I’ll never be able to look at it the same way again.
