Page 51 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

“Yes,” I gasp out, arching against him. I know he’s hard already, his cock leaking a steady drip of precum from how turned on he is.

Somehow, just knowing that he’s so ready for this and still trying to make sure it won’t be terrible for me makes me want him even more. I spread my legs wider, hips bucking upward in an instinctual movement, chasing his touch.

My body burns as I get wetter and wetter, and I can hear the wet squish of his fingers thrusting inside me. He pulls them out after a while, and I whimper in disappointment at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

Atlas just smiles against my skin and starts focusing solely on my clit instead, pinching it lightly and then rubbing the sting of it away with the pad of his finger.

“You think you can take me now?” His voice is a hoarse rasp. “Are you ready for me, vicious?”

“Yes. Please,” I whisper, surprised to find myself on the verge of begging. “Please, Atlas. I need more. I need…”

My voice trails off on a soft groan, and Atlas makes a sound in his own throat, his eyes heated.

His amber and brown irises are dark with lust, his pupils like deep black pools.

The crowd feels distant and removed now.

Even though there are still catcalls from the audience, the way he looks at me makes it pretty clear that he’s not thinking about anything or anyone else.

Just me.

That’s a heavy realization, and it hits me almost hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I’m not quite sure what to do with that, but any deeper thoughts about the intensity of the emotions on his face are drowned out by the fact that I’m so fucking turned on right now.

“Tell me you want it,” Atlas breathes, his fingers moving faster over my clit. “Tell me.”

“I want it,” I reply immediately, my voice shaking. “Please. I’m ready, you don’t need to wait anymore. Fuck, I need you.”

“Need who? Say my name.”

“Atlas. Atlas . Please…”

“There you go.” He smiles, so warm and slow and possessive that it makes something inside me ache. “Good girl.”

One tattooed hand comes up to grip my chin, keeping my face turned toward him the entire time, a reminder not to look away or let the audience distract me. His other hand wraps around his cock, and he slides into me slowly.

My back arches a little as the thick, pierced head of his cock breaches my entrance. He has to go slow because he’s almost as big as Nico, and while I’m really fucking wet right now, it’s still a stretch. But it feels fucking good, and I want more of it.

I can tell he’s trying to stay slow and measured as he works his way in, trying to take it easy on me, but I wrap my legs around his waist and dig my heels into his ass, urging him to press in deeper.

“Fucking—” Atlas chokes out.

He shoves his hips forward as if he can’t help himself, his cock spearing me as he bottoms out inside me in one go. My mouth falls open on a silent gasp, the feeling of him so deep inside me making my toes curl.

I expect Atlas to keep up that same pace, to fuck into me hard and fast, but he stops once he’s buried to the hilt, his eyes closed and his face twisted in a look I can’t decipher.

For a second, I think maybe he’s hurt or that doing this in front of people is fucking with his head too.

It’s not what either of us expected when we came here, I know that, but he’s seemed so put together about it this whole time, maintaining his composure so that I wouldn’t freak out.

I’ve been the one having an issue with it. But did that all change?

Then he takes a shuddering breath and opens his eyes, and I realize that his reaction isn’t about the audience at all.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasps, sounding almost reverent. “Too fucking good. Goddammit, vicious. I imagined, but… I never expected it to be like this. How the fuck do you fit me so perfectly?”

It hits me in a rush that the almost tortured expression on his face isn’t because it feels bad, but the exact opposite.

He’s overwhelmed from being inside me.

My heart gives a surprising little flutter at that, and a warmth spreads that has nothing to do with being so turned on. I squeeze around his cock, and he groans, staring down at me.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

That spurs him to move, drawing nearly all the way out and plunging back in.

He works his hips in a relentless rhythm, building up speed as he fucks into me, and every time our bodies reconnect, I feel…

whole. It feels like we’re connected, like I can feel more than just his cock working inside me.

He doesn’t look away from me for a second, and I gaze back up at him, letting him see all the need and pleasure play out across my face.

Normally, I make a habit of masking my emotions to a degree, keeping my thoughts and feelings a bit hidden. It’s a protective mechanism I’ve honed over the years. But right now, all of my walls have completely crumbled.

I need Atlas in this moment. Need the connection between us.

It’s the only thing keeping me sane and grounded, so for once in my life, I don’t hide from it.

When he drives in deep, hitting that spot inside me and letting me feel the piercing in his cock, I moan for him, my arms winding around his neck. I rake my nails down his back, and he hisses with pleasure, hitting that spot hard and deep all over again.

I’m still vaguely aware of people watching us, the heaviness of their stares and the filthy sounds of people jerking off around us. But none of it matters. It all fades into the background as Atlas fucks me like we’re the only two people alive.

He’s taking care of me in the best way he can, and I feel safe in a way I never would have thought possible.

Every slide of his cock against my inner walls pushes me closer to the edge and makes it harder for me to hold back.

Not that I want to. Even with all these people watching, I’m past the point of caring or holding back.

All I want to do is fall apart and feel the orgasm that’s building slowly in my core.

The pleasure is white hot and electric, racing down my spine and pooling in my belly, sparking higher and higher every time he bottoms out inside me.

“Quinn,” Atlas breathes, a sheen of sweat glinting on his brow as a lock of black hair falls over his forehead. “Come for me. Fuck. Please . I want to feel you come on my cock. Let go, vicious. For me. Just for me.”

There’s something about the way he says it—the way he’s almost begging me to come for him, the need in his voice so clear—that cuts through the last thread holding me back.

All I can do is give in, falling apart with a low cry as my body trembles from the force of the orgasm that roars through me. I arch and buck against him, nails digging into his shoulders, holding on tight as I ride out the sheer pleasure that threatens to suck me under.

And Atlas watches all of it. He watches and fucks me through it, his hips stuttering as my pussy spasms around him.

That must be enough to pull his orgasm from him, because a second later, he curses under his breath and slams into me one last time, filling me up with his cum.