The Storm

Chapter 18

Sierra

Atlas breathes out deeply, shakily, then inhales sharply. A hand of his finds into my hair, the other clutching around the fluffy blanket next to him.

My hand wraps around the base of his dick, giving him one long stroke before I take the tip of his cock into my mouth. I slide my tongue over it, hearing Atlas gasp, his hand tightening in my hair.

I take him deeper into my mouth, pumping him with my hand. My other hand finds his balls, holding them, adding the slightest amount of pressure until Atlas hisses, hoarsely breathing out my name.

His breathing quickens, exhales shortening as he only ever manages to gasp as he inhales.

"Fuck," he groans, sounding raspier than each morning after waking up. I can feel him tense, his balls tighten, meaning he's close to the finish line. "Sierra...I—"

Atlas lifts my head, clearly not wanting me to finish him. He hates it. Okay, maybe not hate but he sure as hell prefers to come inside of my pussy rather than my mouth.

"Why waste good sperm that could get you pregnant?" had he said as an explanation. It's truly exceptional how a man that didn't see himself having his own family now can't stop wanting more children. Though, only for as long as I am willing to have more as well.

But now I am pregnant, which means it wouldn't be a waste, right?

I keep stroking his cock, even though Atlas pulled my mouth away. And because I tend to be mean sometimes, I fasten the pumps slightly, even add a little more pressure to his balls. At least until Atlas stops breathing for a second and warm sperm shoots out, covering bits of my hand and his abs.

Once his breathing starts to slow down and his mind is back from wherever it went, his eyes narrow at me. "You robbed me."

Huh?

"Robbed you of what?" I sit up, then swig a leg over his so I'd sit on his lap.

Before I could press my body to his, Atlas pushes my shorts down enough to free my entire stomach. I don't exactly wear a shirt, which is why there's no reason to lift one. I didn't bother putting a shirt on after the pool, just threw on some shorts and called it an awesome outfit. But, hey, at least I am wearing a bikini top, right?

"The sight," he says like it's an explanation. He pulls me in closer, pressing the bits of sperm on his body to mine, literally gluing us together. Not that sperm could actually clue people to one another.

"What sight?"

Atlas hands lie on my waist, simply holding me. "The sight of my cum dripping out of you afterwards."

"Why's that a sight you want to see?"

He smirks and presses his lips to mine before he answers. "Because; it's my cum dripping out of my wife."

I chuckle. "Marking territory now, are we?"

Atlas nods, his arms wrap around me in a tight hug. "You're mine, sweetheart. All mine. I'm not sharing you."

"That's a bit possessive, don't you think?"

He shakes his head. "It's not possessiveness when you already sold your soul to me. You're legally mine. I'm just making sure it stays that way."

If he were anyone else, I would have stormed right out the door and never returned.

—

"Breakfast should be ready in five minutes, Mrs. Storm," Mitch Kennedy—our personal chef—informs me as I walk into the kitchen.

God, why do I keep forgetting we have staff?