“You always say that. You said that the first time on the counter and I—” She lost the sentence because I was already on her. Her elbows buckled. Her back arched off the mattress. I licked her deliberate and thorough and her fingers grabbed the sheets in two fists.
No hurry. I’d learned what she liked over the past week and I used every piece of it. The unhurried circles that made her roll against me. The light suction that pulled those short desperatesounds out of her throat. The flat of my tongue steady on her clit until her thighs shook on either side of my head.
“Atlas, God, right there—”
I pressed harder. Her heels dug into my shoulders. She came with a sharp cry, her whole body bowing off the bed, her hand on the back of my head holding me to her while the orgasm rolled through. I eased her down. Kissed the inside of her thigh.
She was staring at the ceiling. Breathing hard. Pink from her neck to her ears.
“That,” she said, “is unreasonable.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Don’t be smug.” She reached for me. “Get up here. I want to be on top.”
I moved up the bed. She shoved me onto my back, climbed over me, her thighs straddling me, her curls falling around her shoulders. She worked my jeans open, pushed them down, wrapped her hand around me. I dropped my head back. My breath left in a rush. Her grip was firm, confident, a stroke that narrowed my vision to a point.
Then she slid down and took me in her mouth, and my hand found the back of her head and my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. She drew it out. She looked up at me while she did it, and the eye contact nearly finished me. I pulled her off before it could. "Come here," I managed. "I need to be inside you."
She grinned. Wiped her lip. Climbed back up.
She rose up. Guided me. Sank onto me inch by inch, her eyes locked on mine, her lips parting, her breath catching in small pulses. I gripped her hips, my hands spanning from her waist to the tops of her thighs. Tight. Wet. Every inch deeper pulled a sound from one of us, sometimes both.
She bottomed out and held still. Her fingertips dug into my ribcage. Her hair falling around us. She was shaking and so was I and neither of us moved.
“You feel—” She swallowed. “You feel different when I know you know.”
“Yeah?”
“Like you’re everywhere.” She shifted her hips, just barely, and we both gasped. “Before, I was holding something back. I could feel the wall between what I wanted to say and what I was allowed to say and it was... God, Atlas, it’s gone now. All of it.”
I sat up. Her legs wrapped around me, our bodies flush, my hands sliding up her bare back. Her forehead touched mine. Neither of us blinked.
Then she moved.
She rolled her hips and I pulled her tighter and the rhythm built between us, grinding, her breath ragged on my mouth. I kissed her throat. The hollow beneath her ear. The tendon that jumped when she arched.
“Wait,” she whispered. She pinned me down. Both palms on my chest, holding me to the mattress, and the grin came back. “I said I wanted to be on top.”
“You are on top.”
“You sat up. That’s not the same.” She rocked forward and I grabbed the sheets. “Stay down.”
I stayed down. She planted her hands on my shoulders and rode me with a deliberate rolling grind that wiped every thought out of my skull. Her breasts moved with the rhythm, her belly taut, her thighs bracketing mine. I wanted to flip her over and drive into her until neither of us could talk. Instead I lay there and let her take what she wanted and it was the best surrender of my life.
My thumb slid between us and circled her clit and she jerked hard with a sound that vibrated through me.
“Atlas, right there, don’t stop —”
I didn’t stop. She rode me harder, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I kept the rhythm steady and watched her face.Her eyes on me, steady, refusing to close. She was seeing me. Not a profile. Not a donor number. Me.
“I’m yours,” she said. Breathless, her rhythm breaking. “I was yours before I got here. I picked you and then I found you and I’m — Atlas —”
“Come for me.” My voice had dropped to a place I barely recognized. “Let me feel it.”
She came with her forehead on mine, her second orgasm harder than the first, the clench dragging a groan out of me that started in my spine. My palm covered her stomach and I held her there while my hips snapped up and I buried myself deep and followed her over.
We fell back into the sheets. Tangled, sweating, her weight on top of me and my arms locked around her.
