Claiming Atlas (Completely Rocked Book 1)

by Jessalyn Jameson

  I make my way back to the dressing room to change, and Collette steps in front of the doorway. She eyes me like she thinks I’m guilty of something. I tilt my head as I approach her.

  “Kayla.”

  “Collette.”

  She crosses her slender arms. “Would you mind sharing your secret with the rest of the class?”

  I look around, playing along. “I’ll wait until the other students get back from lunch,” I say on a laugh.

  “Shame on you, Kayla Sanders. I thought we were closer than that. How could you let me go on about Atlas when you already knew him? And, honey, when I met him on the plane”—she places a hand over her chest—“had I known...”

  I laugh and raise my hand. “Relax, Collette. Whatever you and Atlas did or didn’t do on the plane is not my business. You’re both...” I pause, trying to find the right words. “Super sexual.” I probably could have come up with something better than that, but it’s the truth and gets straight to the point. “I imagine Atlas was a fitting single serving friend?”

  “Indeed.” She eyes me warily, as if not believing that I don’t care about the two of them hooking up.

  “Collette, for real, I didn’t know him yet. We met last night.”

  She smiles slowly. “What a wonderful coincidence.” She links her arm through mine and leads me away from the dressing room.

  I look back over my shoulder, longing to get out of this tiny thong.

  “Now, before I send you into that dark dining room to get our boy, you must tell me everything.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Atlas

  The server instructs us to fall in line behind him, Miss November’s hand on his shoulder and my hand on her shoulder, then he leads us single file to a table. I’m not digging this whole dining in the dark thing, and I haven’t even dined yet. I definitely don’t feel titillated, whatever that means.

  I’d much rather be doing anything else.

  With Kayla.

  At least until she moves back home, wherever that is.

  I look back over my shoulder, but can’t see her. She better be waiting for me when this thing is over. Hell, even before that. I’ll eat the appetizer and maybe the main course, depending on what it is, then bolt.

  Kayla can be my dessert.

  I shouldn’t be disappointed about her retiring—it’s not like I’ve ever seen her perform live until tonight, which, judging by tonight, is a real fucking shame. And I should definitely not be disappointed about her moving back to wherever she’s from, because I didn’t even know her before yesterday. And what would even come from knowing her?

  A relationship?

  I don’t do relationships.

  And a rock star and an ex-stripper? What a fucking cliché.

  As we sit down, the server helps us locate our silverware, and I can’t stand this not seeing bullshit. I place my napkin in my lap and pray that it’s black cloth because white cloth will leave tiny white specks all over this fucking suit.

  Airplane chick—Collette Rhone, apparently—is classy enough to know not to provide white napkins, right?

  I groan and scoot my chair back from the table a bit.

  “What’s wrong?” Miss November sits to my left, and her voice is a bit closer than I would like. I want to reach out and see how much distance is between us, but if I accidentally graze her thigh or something, she might take that as an invitation.

  Fuck, what’s wrong with me? I should be all over this chick. She could drop down to her knees right here and suck me off in front of all these people and no one would even know. I shouldn’t be wishing she were Kayla. I shouldn’t be so hung up on a girl I already spent the night with. This is not who I am.

  Sloppy seconds are what I leave for other dudes, not what I go back for—

  “Mr. Reynolds?”

  I look up, but can’t see shit. “Yes?” I sound as irritated as I feel. There better be booze delivered soon. And by soon I mean ten minutes ago.

  “I have that champagne you ordered.”

  “What...?”

  The hand on my shoulder nearly makes me jump up and swing at the guy until my brain catches up to my senses and I realize it’s not the server’s hand I feel.

  I smile and lick my lips, then reach up and slide my hand over hers.

  The champagne I ordered. Ha ha.

  I guide Kayla around my chair and she sits on my lap quietly.

  “Ooh,” Miss November says. “Can I get some champagne too?”

  I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

  The server takes the blonde chick’s order and Kayla brings her lips to my ear. “Be good,” she whispers. “No touching.”

  I chuckle. She’s about to drive me fucking wild, isn’t she?

  God, I hope so.

  “Did you say something, Atlas?” Miss November asks from just a foot or so away.

  Kayla runs her hand over my cock as she stands, and I clear my throat. “No, sorry. Just a tickle in my throat.”

  The voices around us have picked up as people get used to the darkness and continue their conversations from earlier, none of them privy to the goddess that currently stands between my legs. I think they put bread on the table, but who can eat at a time like this? Kayla moves her ass closer to me, and I hate that I can’t see it, hate that I’ve never cared about any lap dance quite like I care about this one, yet I can’t fully appreciate it.

  She’s going to repeat this for me later. With every damn light on in my hotel room.

  She slides her ass down my lap, and my cock twitches, rising to the occasion. She turns around and brings her breasts to my face, moving them slowly back and forth. My hands itch to grab those perfect mounds, so I clench my fists at my sides. She brushes the soft skin of her cleavage across my face, and when she slides her hand through the back of my hair, I lean my head back to revel in her touch.

  I’m not supposed to touch her.

  But I’ve never been very good with rules.

  She slides her legs on either side of me to straddle my lap, bringing her mouth so close to my ear that when I slide my hand over one round cheek and claim that ass like its mine, her soft intake of breath sends a wave of pressure into my dick. I squeeze again, waiting for her to chastise me, challenging her to tell me to keep my hands to myself...

  But she doesn’t. Instead, she settles in more firmly on top of me.

  Her breathing picks up speed, soft and quick in my ear as she grinds slowly in my lap. Is she also remembering the way she slid that soft pussy over my cock last night? I massage her ass with both hands now, and bring my nose to her throat to inhale deeply. I fucking love the way she smells.

  And I finally realize why.

  She smells like that trip I took to Maui when I was seven.

  Coconuts... and the sea... and family. Home.

  She makes me miss things I haven’t thought of in years.

  Things I wanted to forget.

  My heart pinches and my hands still. Then she slowly starts to slide her lips from my ear to my mouth and when her tongue slides across my bottom lip, it’s all I can do not to groan into her mouth. She tastes even sweeter than she smells.

  Conversation continues around us as more of Las Vegas’ elite grow comfortable in the darkness. They discuss the flavors of their cocktails, the way their other senses have heightened at the loss of sight, what a unique evening this is, how wonderful the aerialists were, especially Kincaid Summers...

  Blah. Blah. Blah.

  They jabber on, unaware of what the two of us are doing right in front of them.

  They hold cocktails and conversations; I hold an ass worthy of a fucking monument.

  But they’re right about one thing: my senses have stepped forward to work overtime while my sight takes a back seat. And I’ve never felt, smelled, or tasted anything—or anyone—quite as fucking enjoyable as this woman in my lap.

  They can talk about how amazing Kincaid Summers is all night long.

 
But I’m over here with the real thing.

  And I’ve just broken the third rule with her, because I’m right in the middle of my second serving.

  What the fuck has Kayla done to me?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kayla

  His hands travel all over my skin, reintroducing those callused fingers to the most delicate places on my body. My belly, my breasts, the soft skin of my inner thighs... He runs his hands up my back and grips both shoulders, holding me tighter to him as his tongue invades my mouth.

  I told him not to touch me, but I did so specifically because Atlas doesn’t follow rules.

  It might be my favorite thing about him.

  His penis twitches against me, hardening as we—

  Wait. That might be my favorite thing about him.

  I whimper as my belly tightens. I can’t do this anymore. I want him, need him to myself.

  Now.

  I break our kiss and it pains me to pull away from his lips. I press my chest against his and run my hands through his hair, tugging it gently until his head tips back, then I run my mouth up his throat to his ear. “Take me home, Atlas.”

  He stands quickly, gripping my ass as he does so, keeping me wrapped around his waist. The chair falls to the ground behind him with a crash that stops all conversation in the room. I press my face into his neck to hide my laughter.

  “Sorry,” he says, his voice thick. He clears his throat. “Sorry about that. I, uh, I got up too fast.”

  People murmur around the table and his chest shakes on a laugh, then he starts to step away from the chair.

  A hand grazes my leg, then freezes. “Atlas?”

  I giggle, because I can’t keep it in anymore. His playmate fangirl has just rubbed my thigh, and I can only imagine what’s going through her head right now.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper. “Go.”

  He laughs, then slowly shuffles his feet until we’re away from the table. Then he stops. “I don’t know how to get out,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Sir?”

  Atlas spins to the sound of the man’s voice. “Yes?”

  “Do you need an escort?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I... need to use the rest room.”

  “Yes sir, of course. Please place your hand on my shoulder.”

  “I... I can’t.”

  I snort, then bury my face against him again.

  “Sir?”

  “My hands are full?”

  “Ah, I see. Please try to follow my voice.” The server continues talking and Atlas follows him until a door opens in front of us and he stands aside so we can sneak past.

  Once we’re back out in the main area of the building and the door to the dining area has closed behind us, Atlas sets me down, then steps back to give me one long look from head to toe and back up again. His gaze sends heat through my body, and I shiver in anticipation.

  He licks his lips and pulls his bottom lip into his teeth, and I nearly come apart when he meets my gaze. “Hot damn, Kayla, you look good enough to eat.”

  My mind goes flying back to last night, and the way he licked champagne from the most delicate parts of me, and I squeeze my thighs together as wetness pools between my legs.

  He catches the movement and his eyes flick downward. He shakes his head and groans. “Fuck, you’re killing me. Let’s go.” He wraps his hand through mine and starts to lead me toward the front door.

  “Wait.” I stop, and when he turns back to look at me, I wave my hand toward my barely there clothing. “In this?”

  He looks me over, then grins mischievously. “Fuck. Yes. Only that.”

  I lick my lips and fight back a smile. “I’m not walking outside in this.”

  He frowns. “Are you sure?”

  “Are you pouting?”

  “Yes.” He pokes his bottom lip out.

  I roll my eyes. “I should just go out there like this and give your driver and Red a show, right?”

  He nods, shrugging. “I don’t see why not? Red’s an okay guy.”

  I hold up my pointer finger. “Give me one second, okay?”

  “Fine.” He crosses his arms indignantly. “Can you at least keep it on under your clothes?”

  I shrug. “Guess we’ll just have to see.”

  “Wait.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Keep the wig on too.”

  With a dramatic eye roll to drive home how ridiculous he is, I turn around and race toward the dressing room, trying my best to look like I’m not racing. Hell, why do I even care if he sees me rushing? He’s just as eager as I am, judging by that bulge in his pants that hasn’t settled down since I first said hello before the show. I giggle as I grab my stuff from the dressing room closet, then hold up my jeans and pause.

  “Leaving so soon?” Collette steps out from the restroom, eyeing me as I quickly gather my things.

  I look up at her and heat rushes to my cheeks. “I hope you don’t mind, I—”

  “As long as you’re taking Atlas with you and not ditching him here with that daft girl, I’m happy.”

  Grinning, I stand and start to step into my jeans. “I’m definitely not ditching Atlas.” Ever.

  “Good. Then throw those godawful ripped jeans in the trash and follow me.”

  “What?” I look at my jeans and frown. I love these things.

  “Come.”

  Reluctantly, I stuff my jeans into my duffel and follow Collette to her private area off the back of the dressing room.

  She pulls her long trench coat off the coat rack and holds it out to me, eyebrows raised like she’s waiting for me to slip into it.

  I step over to her and slide my arms into the sleeves. She wraps the white velvet-like coat around me, tying the belt around my waist, then runs her hands down over my hips. “This is how you leave with him.”

  “Collette, I love this, but...”

  “Oh no, hon, no arguing. If you’re going to take him away before he even has a taste of the delectable food my chef has prepared, you can at least tantalize his senses in other ways.”

  “Oh, I plan to.” I close my mouth quickly, surprised that the words were said aloud.

  Collette laughs. “Kayla, honey, what has he done to you?” She pats my cheek and steps past me. “You’re glowing.”

  Once she’s gone, I shake my head and step into the black pumps I brought on the off chance that Atlas wanted to go out with me after the event. I’m pretty sure going out has just been eclipsed by staying in. I pause as an idea strikes me. Smiling, I step out of the tiny lace thong and slip the bra off through the sleeve of the trench coat, then tuck them into the deep pockets and leave the room.

  Atlas waits for me by the front door. He looks me up and down slowly, smiling as I approach. “What’s under the coat?”

  I hold his gaze as I walk past him and step outside. “The main course.”

  He groans and rushes past me to open the back door of his car.

  I climb inside and say hello to Red as Atlas runs to the other side of the car and climbs in on that side. He tells the driver to take us to the Hard Rock, then turns to face me. As he holds my gaze, his lips curl into a wicked grin. “I’m starving.”

  I smile as heat rushes south.

  “You didn’t eat, boss?” Red holds up a wrapped McDonald’s cheeseburger. “You want my last burger?”

  I swallow the giggle that tries to bubble up my throat. Atlas holds my gaze, his lips twitching on a smile. “Drop us off at the hotel, then take the night off.”

  “Yeah?” Red asks, his voice higher than usual. “Sweet. Thanks, man.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Atlas

  It takes everything I have in me not to fuck her in the backseat of this car on the twenty minute drive back to the hotel, but I don’t even touch her. Touching her would make it impossible to refrain from fucking her, and I should win a goddamn award for my self-control.

  She watches me the whole way, and I can’t look away from those b
rown eyes.

  I massage my dick to try to get it to settle down, but doing so draws her attention to my pants, and now settling down is the last thing on my mind, because she looks at my hand on my dick like she wants to fuck me as badly as I want to fuck her and fuckkkkkk.

  I look up at the driver. “Can you hurry it up, please?”

  Kayla giggles and I look back over at her.

  “Patience, Atlas.”

  I roll my eyes and motion toward the giant erection straining against my suit pants. I don’t know how I’ll even walk back through the casino in this condition. That’s all I need, my face on all the tabloids when I’m trying to keep a low profile until I hop back on the tour.

  Except it wouldn’t be my fucking face, would it?

  It would be the erection that broke the internet.

  I glare at her. She did this to me.

  She pulls her lips into her teeth and looks out the window, biting back a laugh. Hilarious. Maybe I should slide over and get her all hot and bothered, then make her walk through the casino dripping wetness down her thighs.

  My dick presses harder against my pants.

  Fuck me. I can’t think about anything dripping down her thighs when I’m trying to get rid of my boner. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe slowly, counting down from one hundred until it feels like I can actually stand and walk through the casino without drawing attention to the size of my cock.

  “Atlas.”

  I could get further in my concentration if she wouldn’t say my name with that sweet fucking voice of hers. It slides over my skin like honey, and since I already know she tastes just as sweet, mouth and pussy alike, I’m never going to get this boner to go down.

  “If you’re going to stay in the car, could I at least have the key to your room?” There’s amusement in her tone, so I open my eyes and look around. We’re at the back entrance to the Hard Rock. I hadn’t even realized the car had stopped because I was concentrating so hard.

  Hard. Like my cock.

  “Some of us would like to eat tonight.” She states the words deadpan, but I’m all too aware of the promise they hold. She really is trying to kill me.

  I growl and climb out of the car and walk to the other side to open her door. We can’t get to the suite fast enough. As soon as we close that goddamn door, Kayla’s fucked.