Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“Atlas, please!” I cry, threading my fingers through his hair, holding his face to my slick center. “Please.”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter, but he gives me what I need, alternating between flicking the tip of his tongue against my clit and sucking on the ultra-sensitive nub.
My legs shake as pressure builds low in my belly. I’m teetering right on the edge, and more than anything, I want to topple over it and freefall into bliss.
Ever in tune with my body, Atlas knows I’m close and secures one hand around my left ankle, as if to brace me, while dragging the other one up my right leg, letting his fingers tease and explore until they’re poised at my entrance.
His eyes flash up to mine, seeking permission, and I nod eagerly.
He slides one finger into my tight channel, rubbing it against my inner walls in perfect time with his ministrations. The combination of his hands and his mouth is exactly what I need, and as he adds a second finger, my orgasm barrels through me, and I come, screaming his name—just like he said I would.
I come back down to earth to find Atlas still kneeling between my legs, smirking up at me. “You with me, pretty girl?”
A soft sigh escapes me as I nod. “Yeah, I’m with you.”
“Good.” He presses a soft kiss to the inside of my left thigh before helping me plant my foot back onto the bathtub floor. “Now let’s get you all cleaned up.”
As he stands, his erection brushes against me. He’s hard enough to pound nails. “What about you?” I ask, glancing down between us, where his dick is pointing at me like a heat-seeking missile.
He shakes his head and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “This was about you.”
My heart flutters at his words, but a frown tugs at my lips. “You make everything about me.”
A surprised laugh rumbles out of him as he grabs the shampoo and flips the cap, squirting some into his palm. “Turn around,” he murmurs, and I do, allowing him to lather up my hair for a second time. “You say that like it’s a bad thing?”
“Not bad,” I say on a sigh. I swear, his fingers are magic as he massages my scalp. My whole body tingles with his efforts. “I just… I don’t want things unbalanced between us. You’re always looking out for me and taking care of me and… well, I want to take care of you sometimes, too.”
Atlas hums and then withdraws his fingers from my hair.
I turn and tilt my head back, letting the now cooling spray rinse away the soap as I wait for his reply.
“I guess I never thought of it like that. When it comes to you, it’s like some baser sense takes over, and all I think of is taking care of you. But I can see how that could create an imbalance.” He grabs the conditioner and begins working it through my ends. “I don’t want any kind of scoreboard or disparity between us. Not ever.”
“I know you don’t. But maybe try to let me spoil you sometimes too?”
“Consider it done. But, Pip, I’ve gotta be real with you—just to be able to call you mine spoils me.”
I roll my eyes and grab his body wash. “Let me clean you up and then we can finish getting ready and head out.”
He throws his arms wide—well, as wide as he can in the shower. “Have at it, pretty girl. Have at it.”
Nerves tickle my belly as I squeeze a dollop of the masculine-scented soap into my palm. It’s silly—the man literally just had his mouth between my thighs, he’s been inside of me, and we tell each other we love each other regularly, but something about washing him feels intimate on a whole other level.
Get out of your head and wash the man, Nora!
I rub my hands together, working up a rich lather, but still can’t bring myself to make contact. It’s times like these I wish I wasn’t so… defective.
“Hey.” Atlas nudges my gaze up to his. “What’s going on, Pip?”
“It’s dumb,” I mumble, focusing on the wet tile behind him.
Unfortunately, he’s not having it. “Nothing you think is dumb.” He pries my soapy hands apart, placing them on his shoulders, and then bands his arms around my waist, drawing me as close as my belly will allow. “Now talk to me.”
A soft sigh escapes me. “It’s just… this feels so… what if I do it wrong?”
His lips quirk up into a grin. “Is there a wrong way to wash someone?”
Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I just know they’re strawberry red. “See—it’s totally dumb.”
“I don’t know… I kind of like that you’re nervous. It’s endearing. How about we do it together?”
I hesitate, not because I don’t want his help, but because I feel like an idiot for needing it. I mean, he’s right, it’s not like there’s a wrong way to do this. “Okay.”