Chapter Twenty-one
o you want to go for a swim?” Atlas asks after we’ve eaten our fill,“D but not before I’ve devoured no less than four different pastries, each one more delicate, creamy, and decadent than the last. I hold my stomach, more full than a turkey stuffed inside a chicken. I might regret this later.
“A swim?” I look out to the ocean, remembering the first challenge and those mermaid-like creatures that tried their best to gut me and shred me up for dinner.
Atlas must sense the train of my thought, because he takes my hands and pulls me up to stand. His hands find my hips before he directs me onto his lap, my heart kicking in my chest.
“A swim,” he repeats, his large palm sliding up my bare leg where my robe has left it exposed. It comes to rest high on my leg, the tips of his fingers
brushing the crease of my thigh. My heartbeat is desperately trying to keep
up as his other hand slides up my back and cups the nape of my neck. “I promise there’s nothing that can hurt you.”
I huff out a derisive snort, eyeing the water. Against the setting sun, it sparkles like a treasure chest, spilling out a horde of jewels. It does seem impossible that anything that lovely could be dangerous, but the cove was pretty, too. I turn back to look at Atlas, who’s watching me, intensity smoldering in his aquamarine eyes. They drop to my mouth and then up again, making my stomach tighten in response.
“Have you kissed the others?” I ask and then immediately regret the question. It’s none of my business, and I don’t really want to hear the answer.
His expression turns thoughtful before he peers at me with a look I can’t interpret.
“I have,” he says simply, and a sharp knot twists in my chest. Of course he has. I shouldn’t expect anything else. Apricia wasn’t lying. “I want to be honest with you, Lor. But I have to give everyone a chance. Obviously, I am naturally more drawn to some Tributes than I am to others.”
I press a finger to his lips, clipping off his words. “It’s fine,” I say. “I understand. Of course, you have to ‘test the waters,’ so to speak.” He arches a dark brow and then opens his mouth, nipping the tip of my finger with his
perfect white teeth.
I let out a yelp and snatch it away, clutching my hand to my chest and giggling. He’s laughing, too, his eyes bright and his smile glorious. A moment later, his expression turns heated, and he draws me to him, his arm wrapping around my back. I place my hands on his shoulders, feeling the flex
of warm, hard muscle beneath my palms.
My face is so close to his, the soft exhale of his breath dusts my lips.
“Would you believe me if I said the kiss with you was my favorite?” he
asks. I snort and then bite my bottom lip, wishing it were true.
“No. I wouldn’t. I’d be sure you were saying it to get me to agree to kiss
you again.”
His answer is a smile and a low chuckle. “Would it work?” He tips his head, watching me from beneath dark lashes.
“Possibly. After all, the only way we can get better is to practice. Wouldn’t you agree?”
His smile grows wide. “I’d definitely agree, my lady.”
He presses his forehead to mine, sliding his hand higher under the fabric of my robe. After tugging on the tie, it falls the rest of the way open, exposing him to all my bared skin. A delicious shiver rolls through me, as sweet as honeyed berries. His gaze traces a map over my body, his hand sliding over my stomach and up my ribs, where I erupt into gooseflesh.
When his gaze meets mine, it’s so fiery it makes the tendons in my thighs flex. His mouth gently brushes mine, but the kiss is tentative, lasting only for a second before his large hand presses against the back of my head and his mouth consumes mine. I moan as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, and then he sucks on my bottom lip. He’s shoving the robe off my shoulders and I help him, shirking it off and letting it tumble to the floor. I’m not exactly naked,
but our clothing is scant and our skin is touching in so many places we may as well be.
With a low growl, his hands grip my hips and he lifts me up, maneuvering me so I’m straddling his lap, the unmistakable and generous length of his cock pressing into my aching center. “Lor,” he moans into my mouth,
deepening the kiss. My hands run down his shoulders and over his thick biceps, running along his corded forearms. His hands roam over my body, up
my thighs, skating up my back and then down, where he grips my ass and pulls me harder against him.
I scratch my nails down his chest, fingering the grooves and ridges that define his torso. A moment later, he grips the backs of my thighs and lifts me up, my legs wrapped around his waist. He carries me over to a round settee placed in the corner of the tent. Covered in pillows, it’s as soft as a cloud when he drops me onto the golden velvet.
“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he says, his voice rough and low
as his mouth drags down the curve of my neck and over my collarbone before he places hot wet kisses down the center of my body, stopping at my navel and then working his way back up again.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I say, breathless, my hands snaking into his hair, pulling his face to mine. I never want him to stop.
I’m not inexperienced when it comes to sex, but I’ve never been given the luxury of this sort of privacy or time. All of my amorous encounters have amounted to hurried, stolen fucks in a darkened prison courtyard beneath the shadow of whatever building might hide us best, hoping we wouldn’t get caught. Rough and frantic. Desperate and raw. Never tender or careful. There was never time for that. No one has ever kissed me this way or touched me
like this. I’ve never even been fully naked with a man before.
“You’re sure?” he asks, touching his forehead to mine where we lie sprawled next to each other, our legs tangled. “I’m not supposed to be doing this…but I can’t seem to help myself around you.”
“I’m sure,” I say, his words firing an ardent optimism in my chest when he
kisses me again, his fingertips sliding under the edge of the tight bottoms I’m wearing.
“I want more of you.” His finger now skates the front edge of the fabric
along the sensitive skin of my stomach, stopping below my navel. His gaze meets mine, intense and shadowed with a question. I think of Madame
Odell’s admonishments that even if the king wasn’t required to control himself, we were to “do better.” But I study Atlas’s face. Those intense eyes and those full lips. That chiseled chest and his taut stomach. The way he smells like sunshine and joy and how hot his skin is against mine.
And seriously, fuck Madame Odell.
Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe the king wants to use me and then discard me
like a tissue. The gutter rat from The Umbra. Or Nostraza, depending on which story you’re telling. But his kindness is addictive. The soft way he touches me and makes me feel like the only person who matters in the world has cracked the shield I wear like an eroding shell. No one has ever shown me this is how it can be.
It’s been so long since I’ve mattered to anyone but two ragged prisoners who I love with all my heart, but who can never be enough on their own.
His hand skates up my side as my ribs expand with my deep breaths.
“I want more too,” I whisper, throwing caution to the wind. What chance do I really have to win? When I told Apricia I had nothing to lose, it was the truth. I have nowhere to go but up.
At least I can enjoy this ephemeral pleasure before I’m sent back home or to my death. I want him. Not just because he’s intoxicating, but because this is my choice. Like Aero. Like the men before him, it was one of the few choices I’ve ever been allowed to make for myself, and that makes all the difference.
Atlas dips his head, capturing my mouth with his, the kiss spiraling straight through to my toes. It grows hungrier, our chests and stomachs colliding, the thin fabric of our swimming costumes almost like skin on skin. His hands
knead my flesh as he hooks my leg over his hip and then pushes me back, rising above me, his strong arms braced on either side of my head.
He kisses me again and then slides down my body, his mouth taking in tastes of me along the way. His large palm cups my breast, and I let out a gasp as he wedges his hips between my legs. As he teases my nipple through the material, my back arches into him.
“Lor,” he murmurs into my skin. “You’re so beautiful.”
He tugs down the stretchy material of my top, exposing my breast and
closing his mouth around my nipple, his tongue flicking against the tip. I bury my hands in his hair, my knees coming up as my hips writhe against him.
After tugging up my top to cover me again, he continues his journey, kissing my stomach and my navel and then swirling his tongue in the tender space below. I’m so achy in my core, I let out a whimper. The warmth of his breath slides across my skin as he lets out a low chuckle.
“What do you want, Lor?” he asks, smoke in his voice, his eyes deep with longing.
I look down at him, completely taken in by his beautiful face and sculpted shoulders, when he drops to the floor and pushes my knees apart. His lips trail up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, making my legs tremble.
“Tell me,” he orders. “What do you want?”
I’ve never been shy about these things. I’ve never had a problem asking for what I want, but it’s so hard not to be overwhelmed by his beauty and his presence. He’s more than anyone I’ve ever known. Is this what all Fae are like? Or is it just him? He’s kissing the inside of my thigh again, his hand
propped under my knee as his other hand rests on my hip, his thumb sweeping the edge of the thin scrap of material between my legs.
Finally finding my voice where it’s disappeared somewhere around my
hips, I gasp out, “Touch me. I want you to touch me.” His grin turns feral, a wicked gleam sparking in his eyes.
“I knew you wouldn’t be shy.” And then he does as I ask, his thumb slipping under the fabric to find my hot, aching core. I gasp as he rubs my clit, sending tendrils of heat through my blood. His touch is featherlight and I squirm against the settee, trying to find the relief of friction. But he holds me down, not letting me move as he drives me to the edge with his light teasing.
He lets out a low sound, almost like a growl, and pulls his hand away,
leaving me empty. The next thing I realize, he’s tugging on my hips, dragging me to the edge of the settee. Wasting no time, he hooks his fingers into my waistband and slides off my bottoms, tossing them to the side. His hands spread me wide, and this isn’t something I’m used to. A part of me nearly collapses into self-consciousness, but another part, a part that never wants this to stop, revels in the way he’s staring at me like a hungry golden tiger preparing to swallow me whole.
He looks up at me with an arched brow and a tipped smile and that same wicked gleam in his eye and then, without warning, dips his head and, with the flat of his tongue, laps my core with a luxurious sweep. I moan, my hips coming off the furniture as he does it again, his tongue exploring the wet
folds, pressing against that spot where it feels amazing.
“Oh, Zerra,” I breathe, burying my fingers in his hair as he continues to make delicious circles, winding me tighter and tighter. I want more. I want to feel this in the marrow of my bones. I lift my hips, driving them forward, craving more friction. Atlas makes a deep sound of satisfaction and complies,
his attention growing rougher as he slides a finger inside me and I groan.
Still feasting on me, he adds a second finger, pumping in and out as he curls his fingers, sending flutters vibrating through my body. I’m so close to
the edge, my head tips back and I let out an extravagant moan. I feel the first signs of my edges fraying and then, in a sudden flash, I tear apart and cry out
over and over as release twists through me in rolling waves.
Atlas doesn’t move from his position between my thighs, placing soft kisses as he waits for me to stop shaking. When I finally catch my breath, my muscles limp, he pulls away and stretches over top of me, pressing his mouth to mine. I can taste myself on his lips, and it feels strangely erotic.
“Fuck, that was amazing,” he says, his mouth in the curve of my neck. I
look down and take in his cock, swollen and pressing against the stretching fabric of his swim costume. I want to touch it. To taste him like he did me. I reach for him, closing my hand around it through the fabric. For a moment, he closes his eyes, his head tipped back as I grip him, moving my hand up and down.
But then he gently grabs my wrist and shakes his head. “No, that’s not necessary.”
“But I—” He silences me with another kiss, his hands cupping my face.
“There will be time for that after the Trials. Today, I’m content to just enjoy you.”
I blink, not understanding. I’ve never been with a man who didn’t also
want to seek his own pleasure, even if he delivered mine first. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I told you we’d go for a swim.” He reaches down, picks up my swim bottoms, fits my feet through the holes, and then pulls them up my legs.
“Come on,” he says, taking off his robe and tossing it on a chair, baring his
glorious wide back rippling with muscle. I’m so confused by his refusal of my attention I haven’t moved. He turns and looks over his shoulder. “Are you okay, Lor? Was that all right?”
Worry furrows his brow as he comes towards me, and I shake my head.
“Yes, no. I mean, yes, I’m okay and, of course, that was okay. It was…
incredible.” He grins and holds out his hand, pulling me up to stand and
kissing the back of my hand.
Then he winks. “Race you to the water.”
Without another word, he drops my hand and goes bounding out of the tent, casting a smile over his shoulder.
“Hey!” I shout and then break into a run, chasing after him.
