Chapter 638 - 632: Clara Joining In

Eli stayed on top of him, still joined, her weight solid and warm against his hips and chest.

Atlas kept one hand at the back of her neck and the other low on her back, fingers tracing the faint marks his grip had left on her hips. The storage room was quiet except for their breathing and the occasional soft creak of the narrow bed when one of them shifted.

Outside, the river continued its steady night sound against the bank. The single lamp on the shelf burned low, casting a dull orange light across the walls and the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

Eli eventually rolled her hips once, slow and deliberate, testing. Atlas was still half-hard inside her. She made a low sound of approval and did it again, grinding down with the same controlled pressure she had used earlier.

The wetness between them made the motion smooth. She could feel every inch of him as she moved, the residual heat and slick from before still coating both of them.

"Still not yet," she murmured against his mouth.

She kissed him deeper this time, tongue sliding against his, while she began to move in small, rolling circles.

The friction was wetter now, slicker. Atlas’s hands tightened on her ass and helped her grind. His fingers dug into the soft flesh there, guiding the angle so that each circle pressed her clit against the base of his cock.

Eli broke the kiss only long enough to bite the side of his jaw, then his throat, leaving another mark beside the first. She sucked hard enough to bruise, then licked the spot once before returning to his mouth.

They stayed like that—slow, filthy, unhurried—until Atlas hardened fully again inside her. The change was gradual. She felt him thicken and lengthen with each pass of her hips, filling her more completely.

Eli sat up, braced her hands on his chest, and started riding him with longer strokes.

The bed frame protested under the shift of weight. She did not care. Her breasts moved with every downward roll of her hips; Atlas reached up and filled his hands with them, thumbs brushing her nipples.

Eli’s breath hitched and she leaned into the touch, fucking herself on him harder. The wet sound of her body taking him grew louder in the small room. Each time she sank down, she ground forward for a second before lifting again, chasing the friction she wanted.

Atlas watched her face. Sweat had gathered at her collarbones and between her breasts. Her hair stuck to her temples. She looked focused, almost clinical in the way she used him, but her eyes were dark and her mouth stayed slightly open.

He thrust up to meet her on the next downward stroke, driving deeper. Eli’s fingers dug into his chest in response. A low sound escaped her throat.

The door opened without a knock.

Clara stood in the doorway, hair already loosened for the night, wearing only one of the long sleep shirts she preferred.

She took in the scene—the narrow bed, the tangled clothes on the floor, Eli astride Atlas, the clear evidence of what they had already done—and her expression did not change beyond a small, knowing curve of her mouth.

The lamp light caught the edge of her bare thigh where the shirt hem ended.

"I wondered how long you two would stay gone," she said quietly. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her with the same lack of ceremony Eli had used. The latch clicked soft.

"Lara is already asleep. She said to tell you not to take the entire night."

Eli did not stop moving. She looked over her shoulder at Clara, still rolling her hips, and gave a short, rough laugh. Her voice came out a little breathless.

"Then stop standing there and come here."

Clara crossed the small room. The floorboards creaked under her bare feet. She climbed onto the narrow bed on her knees, the mattress dipping under the added weight. Eli reached for her at once, pulling her into a deep, open-mouthed kiss while she continued to ride Atlas.

Clara answered the kiss without hesitation, one hand sliding into Eli’s hair, the other reaching down to rest on Atlas’s stomach so she could feel the flex of muscle each time he thrust up.

Their mouths moved together with familiar ease. Eli’s tongue pushed into Clara’s mouth the same way she pushed down onto Atlas’s cock—direct, unhurried, claiming space.

When the kiss broke, Clara looked down at Atlas. Her eyes were soft and clear and already dark with intent. A faint flush had started across her cheeks and the upper part of her chest, visible above the neckline of the sleep shirt.

"Move up," she said.

Eli lifted off him just long enough for Atlas to shift higher on the bed. The sudden absence of her heat made him groan once under his breath. Clara pulled the sleep shirt over her head and discarded it. It landed near the other clothes.

She was already wet when she swung a leg over his face and settled her knees on either side of his head.

Atlas’s hands gripped her thighs and pulled her down onto his mouth at the same moment Eli sank back onto his cock.

The narrow bed forced them close. Clara’s hands found the wall for balance. Eli leaned forward, braced one palm beside Clara’s hip, and used the other to cup Clara’s breast while she rode Atlas in deep, steady strokes.

Atlas licked and sucked at Clara with the same focused attention he gave everything in this house, tongue working in firm, rhythmic passes that made her thighs tighten around his head.

He started broad and flat, covering as much of her as he could, then narrowed the focus to the sensitive peak of her clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue before sealing his mouth over it and sucking gently.

Every time Eli drove down, the motion of the bed pushed Clara more firmly against his mouth. The three of them found a rough rhythm without speaking—Eli’s hips, Atlas’s tongue, Clara’s careful rocks forward and back.

Clara’s breathing turned uneven first. She rocked against Atlas’s tongue, quiet sounds escaping her each time he focused on the right spot.

Her fingers flexed against the wall. Eli watched her face with open hunger and fucked Atlas harder, the wet sound of her body taking him loud in the small room.

Atlas’s hands moved constantly—one steadying Clara’s hips, the other gripping Eli’s ass hard enough to leave new marks. His fingers dug into the soft flesh there, spreading her slightly as she rose and fell.

He could taste Clara fully now, the slick heat of her coating his mouth and chin. He could feel Eli clenching around him in irregular pulses, getting closer.

Eli leaned further forward and took Clara’s nipple into her mouth. She sucked hard, then scraped her teeth lightly across the tip.

Clara’s hips jerked. A sharper sound left her throat. Eli did it again, matching the pressure to the pace of her own hips.

Atlas felt the reaction in the way Clara pressed down harder against his tongue. He answered by sucking more firmly on her clit and sliding the flat of his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes.

The bed frame creaked in steady complaint. Sweat gathered on all three of them. The air in the storage room had grown warmer, thick with the smell of sex and skin and the faint herbal trace of the salve Clara used on her hands after long days of work.

Outside, the river kept its constant sound. Upstairs, the rest of the house stayed quiet.

Eli came a second time with a low, guttural sound, grinding down and holding herself there while her body clenched around him in strong pulses. The force of it pushed Atlas over the edge.

He groaned against Clara’s cunt and spilled inside Eli in heavy throbs, hips lifting off the mattress as far as the weight of both women would allow.

Clara followed only moments later, thighs shaking, one hand fisted in Atlas’s hair as she came on his tongue with a soft, broken sigh.

Her whole body tightened, then released in waves. Atlas kept his mouth on her through it, gentling the pressure but not stopping until the last tremor passed.

They stayed tangled in the aftermath. Clara carefully lifted off his face and collapsed to the side, breathing hard. Eli remained astride him a little longer, still joined, before she finally eased off and stretched out along his other side.

A slow trickle of his release followed her as she moved. The narrow bed was barely wide enough for three. None of them complained.

Legs and arms found places to settle through long practice. Clara’s head rested near Atlas’s shoulder. Eli’s leg hooked over both of theirs, heavy and possessive.

Clara’s fingers traced idle patterns through the sweat on Atlas’s chest. Eli’s breath gradually slowed against the side of his neck.

Atlas turned his head and kissed Clara first—slow, tasting her—then Eli, tasting the residual salt of her skin and the faint metallic note from where she had bitten him earlier. Neither woman pulled away. The kisses stayed unhurried, more confirmation than demand.

Clara spoke first, voice still low and slightly rough.

"Lara will expect us back before the lamp burns out completely."

Eli made a satisfied sound against Atlas’s shoulder. "She can wait a few more minutes."