“I hate that she talked to you that way,” I breathe as slickness burgeons between my legs.
“Fuck her,” he says, “you know I don’t care what anyone thinks.” His mouth trails down my belly as he drops to his knees right here in the kitchen. “Just be real with me, Goldie girl. That’s all I want.”
Then his tongue is making quick swipes through my lips, opening me up, and moving my wetness around. He groans, I moan, and a moment later, he’s on his feet, hoisting me to the countertop. He pulls his wallet out and digs around in it, finally finding a blue foil square.
“I need to fuck you, Goldie. I need to fuck you until you feel better because I hate seeing you down. I hate seeing the way she gets in your head.”
“You’re in my head,” I whisper, feeling drunk off of everything Atticus Winters. How could I not be?
“Yeah?” he works his jeans with one hand, his hungry eyes not leaving mine.
I nod. “Yeah. I was so worried you were mad; you were going to break up with me. All before…” I trail off, watching him snake his big dick from his boxer briefs, pants banded around his thighs. As soon as it’s out, my breathing hitches, and my lips tingle as saliva pools below my tongue.
He’s mouth-watering.
His skilled hand closes around his shaft, thumb and middle finger not reaching. The corners of my jaw burn with anticipation. I want him in my mouth, but then, my lower half buzzes as my body prepares to take him— “I want to suck you, but I want you inside me more.”
“We got time for everything.” Tearing the foil square with his teeth, he places the condom on the head of his cock, and with one hand, rolls it down. Everything he does is intoxicating and arousing, I swear.
“I don’t like condoms,” I whisper, not because I’ve ever had sex without them but because I want to feel every raw inch of him buried inside me.
“That don’t go well with not wanting a kid,” he groans. Damnthatdetail. I’m not on the pill, either. I stopped the night… Well, I stopped taking everything after that, including multivitamins, because when you’re in survival mode, daily vitamins, birth control, and skin care aren’t a priority. “You on the pill?”
Sadly, I shake my head.
His eyebrow cocked is starting to turn me on. “You don’t like condoms, but you’re not on the pill,” he muses, pointing out how these things do not go together.
I smile, feeling a little exposed but willing to go there with him. “I’ve never actually had sex without a condom. I just… didn’t want to use one with you.”
His face remains stoic, but he lets out a long, continuous groan that tells methatwas an answer he liked. Bonus points: it was the truth! I didn’t have to be any version of me butme,and he wants me. He loves me.
God, that’s vindicating and ego-boosting all at the same time. And after Reynold and the Brutes… it’s just how I need to feel.
“If you don’t want the monster to put a baby in you, and you’re sure, I’ll get snipped,” he says as he aligns said monster at my pussy. Just the friction of his head against me makes me moan a little.
“You’d get a vasectomy for me?” I ask, shocked because that’s not the typical response from a man you aren’t married to. Most men direct you to get on the pill or get the shot, but Atticus is offering to handle it all. “You don’t want kids, either?”
He shrugs. “You yourself call me grandpa,” he winks. “But the truth is, baby girl, I want you. I ain’t never been so sure. So if you don’t want to be a mom, then I’ll get it taken care of so I can enjoy that pussy bareback and so I can give my queen what she wants,” he bristles, sinking half of his fat length inside me. My body stretches like she knows it’s him and gives him as much space as she can. It burns, but it burns so good. “This monster cock, unsheathed,” he growls as he buries the rest of himself deep inside me.
“Oh fuck,” I murmur as my body adjusts to all of him being fully seated. “Just.. just a second,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut, willing the burning to subside. A moment later, all burning has morphed into rolling waves of pleasure. My body throbs around him as he slowly starts to move inside of me, fucking me in long, deep strokes.
Through the heat and sweat and moans, our eyes lock.
He sinks inside me again, this time faster and with a bit more strength. On the next pass, with one hand on my thigh, he seals his palm around my throat. “You’re gonna stand up for yourself from now on, isn’t that right?” My air isn’t restricted, but my breathing is shallow nonetheless. I can’t believe I love him holding me this way, but holy fuck, it’s so hot.
“Yes,” I whimper, my hands going to his wrist and forearm, holding him while he grips me.
“Yeah, you are.” His groans and the sound of his skin whacking mine fills my small kitchen. “You’re my good fuckin’ girl, isn’t that right?”
Atticus serving me with praise is officially the thing I never knew I always needed.
“Right,” I breathe as his dick pushes me to the edge of orgasm in under five minutes. I always made Reynold cum so fast, and I thought it was because I was so good. But now I see it was really just he was just a selfish prick. Atticus lasting for me, to bring me to the finish line multiple times–that’s how a real man fucks.
“You’re there, ain’t ya?” he groans, and never in my life did I think one of the words leading me to an orgasmic explosion would be ‘ain’t’ but here the fuck I am, legs wide, heart full.
I nod, sweat glistening on both of our bare, pink bodies as he does the work, and I just sit there, clawing at his shoulders, panting, dying to cum, the entire situation an ethereal blend of dream and reality. “Yes, fuck me, fuck me, Atticus,fuck me hard,” I beg, realizing tears are now streaming down my cheeks.
He pulls out and slides his hand to the back of my neck, fingers driving up into my hair. Pushing my head gently, he commands me to watch.