Page 164 of Griffin Food

Atlas pauses, reaches down. In a swift move that startles a gasp from Violet, he tugs her bodice down roughly, exposing both her plump tits.

I nearly swallow my fucking tongue. So much blood surges into my dick that it tries to bust its way out of my pants.

Godsdamn.

Her eyes slam into mine—her lips part. I don’t know where to look—her face or her tit that he’s handling, pinching her nipple roughly, making it all pink and hard.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly. Then her teeth sink into her lower lip like she’s fighting back a moan.

Of course she is.

Atlas will stop if she gives any indication that she’s enjoying it. Like he doesn’t fucking know. Like he can’t feel it the same way I can, pummeling me through the bond.

But Atlas is all about restraint. He wants her to contain it.

He moves on to her other nipple, getting that good and sore, and then, satisfied with his torment, returns to the scroll.

I don’t believe any of us are thinking about the scroll anymore or the urgent repair work that is going on at Hotton Loe.

But he perseveres anyway.

A knock sounds on the door.

“Come in,” he calls.

This time, Lark decides to move out of the way.

Posey enters with a tray set with refreshments. She’s used to Lark in both his forms—and even naked, for he often shifts without a fucking care for who is around—and she barely glances his way. If I’m not mistaken, a selection of chocolate-covered mints are on the plate to one side.

She shows herself out, and Lark resumes his position by the door.

Atlas selects a treat, grips her hair lightly, and gives a gentle tug. “Would you like a mint, little red?”

She opens her mouth dutifully, and he just pops it right inside.

And I’m fucking mesmerized.

He brushes his thumb over her lips as she is eating it, and then he lowers his mouth to hers and kisses her. The kiss is lingering and soft. He’s smiling indulgently when he lifts his head.

Her eyes are wide as saucers, and locked upon his. She eats her sweet treat and swallows thickly.

Gods, I just want to smear one all over my dick and let her lick it all off.

Not very practical. It’ll probably crumble and make a fucking mess, but—fuck, I could make it work.

“Where were we?” Atlas says, returning to the fucking scroll.

Violet

Atlas goes back to the scroll and the update in Hotton Loe, but I don’t hear a word.

“Undo your pants and push them down to your knees.”

That jolts me out of my daze. My head tries to lift, but suddenly Atlas’s hand is firm against the back of my neck, holding my cheek against his thigh.

Fenix is no longer watching me, for he is staring at Atlas.

“Or you can leave,” Atlas continues, dropping the scroll he was reading onto his desk. “We are done with the report.”