The Billionaire Twins Need A New Mommy! - Chapter 470

Chapter 470: You Asked If I Touch Myself
[Warning: This chapter contains mature themes and implied sexual content. Open with caution.]

Meanwhile…

“Hah—wait!” Lola gasped, her back hitting the door as it closed behind them. Atlas was on her in an instant, caging her against it with his arms.

They had barely stepped inside when his lips claimed hers. His deep, uneven breaths mingled with hers, warm against her mouth. He had just brushed her straps off her shoulders when she pressed a palm flat against his chest.

He paused, drawing his head back slightly. “Why?” he asked first, his low voice vibrating beneath her hand. His gaze dropped to her chest, watching it rise and fall with each heavy breath.

Lola let out a shaky exhale, then giggled as she looped her arms around his neck. “Nothing,” she said. “I just needed a breath.”

The moment the words left her lips, she tilted her head and pulled him back down. Her mouth met his again—soft and hot and eager. Atlas drew in her breath as though he needed it to live. One of his hands settled possessively on her hips; the other slid around her waist firmly.

In one swift movement, he lifted her off the floor. Her back remained pressed against the door as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Lola grinned against his lips, her fingers curling into his hair.

“Take me to bed?” she whispered playfully, laughter brushing his mouth.

He answered with a low hum that vibrated through his chest. “It’s the closest.”

Their tongues moved in a slow, unhurried rhythm, the kiss growing deeper and heavier. Heat curled between them, filling the space where their bodies pressed together. As he carried her across the room, each step made her cling to him a little tighter, her heart drumming so hard it almost drowned out the faint rustle of their clothes.

Lola landed on the mattress with a soft bounce, the fabric sighing beneath her. Atlas rested a knee on the edge of the bed, one hand planted beside her to keep his weight off, the other reaching up to tug his bow loose from his collar.

“It’s our first night,” she teased, biting her lip as she watched him lean over her until his face hovered just a palm’s away. She reached up, pinching the edge of his collar between her fingers.

“…as husband and wife,” she finished, her already flushed cheeks growing even redder. Her eyes shimmered, not just with affection, but with the kind of longing that had been simmering inside her for a long time.

They’d had plenty of nights together already. In fact, she could probably count on her fingers the mornings or evenings they hadn’t tangled up like this. His stamina and drive were insane, and she was weak to him in all the ways that mattered.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, they weren’t just lovers stealing time. They were married. And this wasn’t just indulgence, it was a promise she was more than willing to keep, again and again, for as long as she lived.

Atlas looked down at her, taking in the view he’d seen countless times. And yet, the fire inside him burned just as fiercely as the first time. He dipped his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips—soft, reverent. Then another to her cheek, his warm breath brushing her skin.

“Told you, you are…” he whispered, his mouth trailing down the line of her jaw to her neck, his breath hot and feather-light against her burning skin. “…mine.”

He had told her that from the beginning. And he meant every word.

His.

Lola’s back arched slightly at the sensation of his mouth on her skin, her fingers creasing the fabric of his shirt. She guided him back to her lips, savoring the familiar taste of him. Her pulse thundered in her ears as his presence surrounded her—his weight, his warmth, his scent beneath the faint traces of cologne.

He pressed over her like a shield, his touch growing more intent as he eased her closer. Her world narrowed to the feel of his hands, the sound of their breathing, and the quiet creak of the mattress beneath them.

Atlas pressed his body against her slightly as he eased off the last of her dress, leaving only her laced underwear between them. So little protection she had—so easily accessible. With just one touch, he could feel her warmth, overflowing with a desire meant only for him.

Atlas’s breath deepened against her ear, his voice low and rough. “So wet,” he whispered, grazing her earlobe as he pressed himself firmly against her center.

Even through the thin layers of clothing between them, their heat blend together. Fabric did nothing to hide the pull between their bodies, the kind of desire that made even the slightest movement feel like too much and not enough.

“Atlas…” Lola whispered, her voice ragged as her fingers fumbled for the buttons of his shirt. She kept his lips on hers, her hands trembling as she slid open one button after another. “… want.”

“Shh,” he murmured, letting her undo a few buttons before his hand swept to her back. With a practiced flick, her bra came undone, her breath hitching as her breast bounced to freedom.

His mouth curved up in a light chuckle as he rested a hand on her side. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he drew his head back. As he did, her eyelashes fluttered open.

Atlas stood on his knees, a few buttons of his shirt undone, his hair slightly tousled from her fingers. His gaze glossed over her—her bare top rising with every breath, the soft curves he knew by heart, and the delicate lace still covering what little remained between them.

Slowly, he reached down, and his fingertips brushed against her skin. Her body felt aflame, shuddering at his touch. Her throat bobbed as she held his gaze, watching him study her—lying there, almost bare.

Sometimes, it still felt unreal that the man above her—the one whose eyes darkened with such raw, focused desire—was someone she used to only dream about. Someone she never thought she could have. And yet here he was: her husband, looking at her as if she were the only thing in his world.

And with all these thoughts running in her head—combined with the high of finally ending up married—before she realized it, Lola cupped her breast. The sudden movement made his brows twitch, finally pulling his full attention back to her as their eyes met again.

“Atlas,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He met her gaze, and whatever he saw there made his own soften, even as the heat in them deepened. His thumb brushed the side of her neck in a slow, grounding stroke, as if to remind her that he was there. That this was real.

“You asked if I touch myself,” she continued, her hand sliding over her own curves as she kept her eyes locked on his. Her other hand drifted downward, fingers toying with the garter of her thong, her thumb brushing the delicate fabric in a teasing rhythm.

Then, very slowly, she traced along the heated outline beneath it, her breath catching at the sensation.

With a deep, trembling inhale, she whispered, “I’ll show you.”

Atlas felt his heart thunder against his chest as he watched her, every movement deliberate, every breath synced with his. She touched herself slowly, one hand cupping her breast while the other drifted lower, caressing herself through the thin fabric.

It was a show meant for him alone.

His already-tight pants felt even more constricting, but he didn’t move. He simply watched, captivated as something dark and consuming was awakening inside him in a way he had never felt before.

“Ah…” she moaned softly, her hips trembling as she brushed her fingers along the sensitive outline beneath the lace. She teased herself with careful, practiced strokes, her body warming under her own touch, her breath growing unsteady.

At the same time, Atlas slowly unbuckled his belt, the leather sliding free with ease. As if sensing her next move, he caught sight of her bringing her hand up, her lips parting with clear intention. But before she could do anything, he grabbed her wrist.

“Slow down now,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding.

“What?” she breathed, only for her arm to be pinned above her head the next second. A light, surprised laugh escaped her. “Atlas— huh?”

Lola paused as he wrapped the belt around her wrist. Then he reached for her other hand, binding it together with the first in one smooth, practiced motion. Before she could fully process it, her wrists were secured, the belt holding them firmly as his hand tightened around the restraint.

“…” She snapped her eyes back to him, her breath hitching as his face lowered until it hovered just inches from hers.

His eyes were darker than usual, a dangerous glint flickering through them. The corners of his mouth curved into a slow, possessive smirk — the kind that made her entire body tremble beneath him. Heat pooled through her, a rush of anticipation tightening in between her thighs.

There was something about this dangerous aura of his that turned her on like nothing else. And the mere thought of how intense he could be with her had her whole body reacting in an instant.

“I guess…” she panted, her back arching as her body pressed up against him, practically begging for more. “…I’m a masochist. I want to be hurt—”

But the rest of her words dissolved when his mouth claimed hers, swallowing the sentence whole. Whatever she thought she wanted, she knew one thing for certain: she would feel everything he gave her… and she would love every bit of it.

The rest of the night melted into the soft rustle of sheets, the gentle creak of the bed, the muffled moans, the dim glow of the bedside lamp, and the quiet, unhurried way they learned what it meant to be each other’s.

This time, as husband and wife.