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Or maybe he just felt too good.
The shiver ripped through my body, and I needed him like air. I could have said no. I could have made him stop. But I needed this. I'd never gotten closure. I thought if we could get this out of our systems, it would finally be over. Easy.
Liar.
I was a liar, but I didn't care. All that mattered was how he was making me feel right now.
His harsh, demanding kiss stole my breath. His lips were rough, like grit on sandpaper, but I welcomed the abrasion. The sensation was electrifying, setting my nerves on fire, and making the world melt away.
As his tongue sought entrance, I willingly surrendered, responding to the urgent rhythm he set with desperate need. There was nothing soft about this kiss; it was wild and raw and consuming. It was Atticus. It was us.
His low growl vibrated through me as he began to speak again. "I've missed you, Gwen." His voice was husky with desire. "I missed your taste, your scent…" His words were punctuated with nips and licks against my skin, making every nerve ending in my body scream for attention.
I tried to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. I knew that these stolen moments weren't leading us anywhere good, but for now I allowed myself to get lost in him. The scent of his cologne mingled with the natural musk of his skin was an intoxicating aroma that stirred up memories I thought I had successfully buried. When he kissed me again, his hand slid onto the nape of my neck, pulling me even closer, making sure I stayed pressed against him.
I melted into him, feeling the heat of his body against mine as he deepened the kiss. As his tongue teased mine, my head swam.
"Atticus," I gasped out, pulling away for a moment to catch my breath. But he didn't pause as his lips trailed down my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. I moaned softly, my fingers threading through his hair in response.
"You always sound so fucking sexy when you say my name," he murmured against my skin, his hands wandering down to clutch at the hem of my shirt, "Let me hear you say it again."
He tugged down the zipper of my top, yanking and pulling until it was off, just a swath of red silk on the floor.
"Atticus," I whispered again, the sound barely above a breath as his mouth found my exposed collarbone. His lips trailed a path of scorching kisses down to the valley between my breasts, his hands impatiently tugging at the clasp of my bra.
He made quick work of the fabric, and it was tossed aside like an unwanted accessory. His mouth found my nipple almost instantly, his tongue swirling around it in a tantalizing rhythm. His teeth grazed my sensitive bud, making me whimper in pleasure.
"Fuck. Still so sensitive. Do you know how many nights I've dreamed about fucking your pretty tits again? Coming all over them. Do you remember when I did that last time and then cleaned you off?"
I faltered, the memory jolting me. "I-I remember," I managed to respond, my voice barely a whisper. The memory was vivid. Him coming on my chest, his fingers rubbing his essence into my skin before he used his tongue to clean me off.
"And you liked it, didn't you?" he taunted, smirking down at me. His fingers tweaked my other nipple, making me bite my lip to stifle a moan.
"Yes," I admitted, my voice shaky. The honest confession seemed to spur him on.
"Say it again," he ordered, his fingers slipping down to the hem of my skirt, lifting and sliding it over my thighs to cup my ass. His questing fingers found my core easily.
"I liked it. It felt good," I gasped out, feeling his fingers brush against me through my tights and the fabric of my panties. My body reacted instantly, a flood of warmth pooling in my core.
His lips were back on mine, silencing any other words I could say. He tasted like sin and regret, a cocktail that was impossible to resist.
When my knees gave out, he picked me up and carried me to the couch in the back corner of my office. He tugged off his coat and threw it on the floor. His belt was next, then his zipper, and I reached in to pull his cock out.
When I stroked him tightly, he bit out a low curse, a bead of precum leaking from his tip. "Fuck, you still know how I need you to touch me." But when I leaned forward to take him into my mouth, he dug his hands into my braids gently and tugged me back. "No, I'm making you feel good."
Reaching under my skirt, he pulled down my tights, then sat down on the couch and pulled me down on his lap.
His hands pressed against my shoulders, guiding me downward as his cock found my entrance through the thin fabric of my panties. "Fuck, Gwen," he growled in my ear, "You're so wet for me. I've missed this… missed you." His hands gripped the crotch of my panties and with a swift motion, he ripped them to shreds.
"Atticus!" I gasped, feeling his thick cock right at my entrance, pulsing as he slid through my folds. The urgency in his voice matched the lust in his eyes, and it was driving me wild. The feel of him beneath me, dominating yet gentle, was a strange mix that only Atticus could create.
"Tell me what you want," he growled into my ear, his breath hot and electrifying against my neck. The length of him pressed against me, insistent, reminding me how much I’d missed the thick length of him. It had been so long. I shouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t need it so much, but I lifted my hips, trying to get him where I needed him.
"I want… I want you inside me," I said, abandoning all reason. Because who needed clear logical reasoning? I wanted to come. I needed to come. And I needed him to be the one that made it happen.
He fisted my hair again. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice rough with desire. I opened my eyes, my gaze locking with his, as he pushed himself inside me slowly, torturously. The burn of his possession had me hissing.
He was too big. It had been too long. “Atticus. I can’t?—”
