𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚜𝚒𝚡 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜

He ruined me. Atlas Storm ruined me.

Not only did he trick me into moving in, tricked me into marrying him, he introduced me to sex and made me an addict.

Literally.

The only other guy I slept with was, as I know now, his brother. And that was against my will.

I went six years without sex, went through college without being intimate with anyone. Well, almost. Freshmen year, Nico happened. I haven't even had sex before him either. Technically, I went twenty-four years without sex. And I wasn't feeling as though I was missing out.

Apparently, I was missing out.

Ever since Atlas caved and gave into the temptation at his office, he made sure to fuck me any chance he could get. Every time I asked him to. And every single time, Atlas made sure he got my okay before he even just touched me. A simple nod wasn't enough, he needed my words for it. And I loved it—correction, I love it.

I lost count after a while, but I remember him pushing me up against the shower wall, lifting me, holding me up as he pushes himself inside of me, over and over again. Although my stomach keeps growing, and the number on the scale goes up, I still seem to weigh nothing to him.

I remember Atlas cooking for dinner, turning off the stove a second later when I wrap my arms around him. We ended up naked in the kitchen. Me sitting on the kitchen counter with my legs around his hips, Atlas standing between my legs, thrusting in and out of me like he'd die if he didn't.

The other day, I found out he owns a jacuzzi. Of course he does. Regardless of it being November, and pretty fucking cold in Medina, I had to try it out.

I stripped off my clothes in the living room, opening the glass sliding door to the backyard, ready to sprint right towards the jacuzzi. But of course my husband had a few words to say.

"You're not using the jacuzzi in the middle of November, naked," had he said. I looked at him over my shoulder, wiggled my naked ass at him and ran outside.

It was cold. Way colder than I thought it would be. But the heated water made it all worth it. Not long after I was in there, Atlas joined me...just as naked as I was. By that time, I was already so familiar with his body, I no longer blushed at the mere sight of his dick.

He was hard, despite the temperature outside. And Atlas was hot, his skin burning up, burning every piece of my skin he touched. He looked at me with lust, starvation displaying through his eyes. And yet I could tell he was looking at something he thought was precious. I was precious to him.

We ended up fucking in the jacuzzi, but it was quick as it only got colder.

He's fucked me in every corner of his house, even the home-gym. The one I had no knowledge of existing up until a few hours ago. But there is a place he's never so much to touched me in yet. Our bedroom.

He's avoiding that room with all he has. You'd think, now that we're married and do get closer, he'd take me to his bedroom and sleep with me, make love to me. But no, he insists on the bedroom being solely for sleeping purpose.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" a voice speaks from the house door. Atlas must have just come home, he didn't even take off his jacket yet, and he's already curious to know what I've done all day. I know he is.

He walks inside the kitchen, brushing my hair away from my shoulder so he could kiss my neck. I love his affectionate side. Atlas can be so sweet, so caring, soft, loving. Who would have thought that under the cold, icy and brick exterior could be a true lover?

"Spending your money," I tell him. "I didn't get paid yet." I don't think I will. I spent another whole month at home as I feel weird having to run to the bathroom every other minute. My bladder seems to be full at all times, though sometimes nothing even comes out of me.

"It's only the twenty-second," he says, sneaking his hands around my body to rest them on my stomach. "How are my two favourite girls?"

"She's fine," I tell him, turning in my seat to face him. The second I'm turned around, Atlas presses a soft kiss to my mouth, gentle and loving. He's always so...careful with me. Like he fears me breaking at any second.

"What about you?" he asks and takes a seat next to me. I love that he not only cares about his still unborn daughter, but about me as well. There hasn't been one day since I moved in where he didn't ask about how I felt. Whenever I said something he didn't like, he made sure I was doing better a moment later.

"I'm a bit tired. Need months to walk up and down the stairs." Not that I was ever fast doing that. I still believe the marble is a death-trap, Atlas thinks otherwise.

"You don't need months," he laughs lightly, taking my hands in his. Then something shifts. His vibe no longer sorta-happy, but dark and serious. This can't be good. "Sierra, we need to talk about something."

Yeah, this is bad. Any conversation that starts with these words, they'll end up in a divorce.

I'm not sure why, but the thought of divorcing the only man I ever let close to me, willingly...it scares me. It scares me so much, my breath quickens, the air only barely reaching my lungs.

"Are you going to kick me out of the house?" I ask. Atlas frowns, his eyebrows draw together, head slightly cocking to the side.

He shakes his head, not even finding his words. Like the thought alone is so unbelievable to him. It's not, really. Knowing this man, he wouldn't hesitate kicking me out the second he gets bored of me.

"Oh God." I gasp, slapping a hand to my mouth. "Is there another woman?" That's the kind of betrayal that brings tears to my eyes. Technically, Atlas doesn't have to be faithful to me. We're not a real thing. Married, sure, but we practice no other relationship. At least not that I know of it. And yet, the thought of Atlas cheating on me...it breaks every piece of my heart, my body.

Atlas shakes his head, this time a bit more enthusiastically, stronger and with more disbelief hiding behind a chuckle. "Sweetheart, you'll be staying with me forever. I'm not letting you go. And I wouldn't risk you leaving me by sleeping with a sleazy hooker."

"That 'sleazy hooker' could be a really attractive woman. You might have had a few drinks too much and, just like that, it happened." I let my hands fall into my lap, taking a couple deep breaths until I feel my heart beat in a more normal pattern. I gasp. "Oh God. You did sleep with another woman and now she's pregnant, too, right?"

He shakes his head, drawing out a long sigh. "No." His tone is harsh, probably the harshest I've ever heard him speak in. "You're the only one I ever knocked up, and you'll be the only one I'll ever want to have kids with."

Now that's a relief. Wait—kids? Plural???

Atlas pulls on my chair, pulling me closer to him, my legs right between his. One of his hands takes mine, his thumb caressing my knuckles softly.

"Sweetheart," he says in a whisper. "You're more than enough for me."

I've never been the type to be needing reassurance. I walked through life with watching my own back. I never trusted anyone, never relied on one. It's only ever been me.

And yet here I am, on the verge of a panic attack, fearing the husband of mine, that only married me for the sake of our unborn child, leaving me.

I'm not sure where that fear came from, and it bothers me. The fear alone bothers me, but not knowing why I'm fearing his loss annoys me more.

"I need to know why you're afraid of men." He is being serious. There is no ounce of amusement in his tone, not that it's ever really been there. He doesn't look like he's joking either. Atlas looks like he's ready to go on a murder-spree, killing whoever might be the cause of my fear.

"Why?" I question. I've never talked about it. Not sure my mother was even aware of that fear. I mean, sure she knew I had a huge problem with men. The simple fact that I begged her to let me attend an online school or be homeschooled...I think that was a clear indication of my hatred for humans.

I watch as his thumb slides back and forth on my knuckles. He is nervous. Atlas Storm is never nervous.

"Is this about Nico?" I ask. "He has nothing to do with it. I mean, sure, I loathe that asshole. And, yeah, he might have added to it, but he's not the reason."

"I know," Atlas simply says, not providing me with the explanation as to how be knows. "I need to know where it came from. I want to understand you and certain ticks you have."

Ticks? What ticks do I even have?

Atlas must notice my confusion. "At the grocery store, you don't walk into an aisle whenever there's a man standing by himself. You change from one sidewalk to another, even if it's inconvenient, just because there's a man walking towards you. Your hand tightens around mine whenever someone looks at you, and you flinch lightly at the sound of a man's voice nearby."

Have I really been doing that? If so, clearly, I hadn't even noticed. Though, I'm not as attentive with myself as Atlas is with me. I know he pays a lot of attention to whatever I do. He analyses every twitch on my face when he steps closer to me, and he backs off the second one tiny twitch seems like I'm fearing him.

"But," he says, bringing my hand closer to his mouth. He presses his lips to the back of my hand before resting our hands on his thigh. "It doesn't seem to bother you when a man smiles at you as he walks past you. You can walk into a small flower shop and greet any man that walks in there with a smile on his face. You don't back away from smiles, or blonde-haired guys. Only when a man looks...intimidating, has dark hair, appears to have tattoos."

Guys like Atlas himself.

I inhale a deep breath, taking my time to exhale.

"When did the fear start, Sierra?"

I shake my head. "I don't know."

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't believe that."

"Atlas, don't make me talk about it, please."

Of course I know. How couldn't I? The memories of the man causing me to fear other men...they're burnt into my brain and don't seem to leave.

I want to pull my hand away from his. I can tell he wants to keep them interlocked, but he knows it would only draw a panicked reaction out of me.

He looks at me with pity in his eyes. He feels sorry for me, for my condition, for what I've been through. And he doesn't even know half of it.

Not even Cody knows about what happened when I was...too young to even know my age.

"I don't like opening up about it. Especially not to people I don't..." I trail off, not wanting to finish my sentence. I've made a mistake even starting it.

"Trust?" Atlas finishes for me. He lets out a sigh and rubs a hand down his face. "Why don't you trust me, Sierra?"

Tears begin to dwell over, running down my face. "I trust you," I blurt out. It's the truth. I trust this man more than any other person I've ever met. "I just..."

"You just what?" he snaps at me, kind of.

"You intimidate me, Atlas. You scare me. You're everything I've been afraid of all my life." And as it turns out, exactly my type anyway. I can't seem to stay away from him, but with every invisible line we cross, grow closer together, I fear losing him. Even when I'm still fighting myself about being afraid of him.

"Describe the man that ruined you, Sierra." It's not even a question at this point. He is demanding it. Demanding information from me that I'm not sure I can give him.

I shake my head. Talking about it makes it real. It's been pretty real all along, but as long as I don't say it out loud, maybe I can pretend it never happened. Not that my fears agree with me.

"Describe him," he commands, hitting a hand to the island top. I jump at the sound of his hand hitting the surface. Painful memories playing like a movie right in front of my eyes.

More tears run down my face as my heart beats more rapidly and I in- and exhale in an unhealthy pattern.

With my eyes still locked with Atlas's I can see the panic in his. The uncertainty of what he shall do, what he has already done.

Atlas tries to reach out for me, ready to take my face in his hands, but I stop him. "No," I almost scream, my voice filled with more panic than his eyes are filled with. "Don't touch me."

He doesn't. Atlas lifts his hands for me to see. He lifts them like he's surrendering as I hold a gun right to his head. He lets me see his hands, let's me know he respects me enough not to touch me.

A whole minute passes before I find my voice again. Atlas hasn't said a single word either. He's just waiting, waiting for me to be ready to speak. I know I have to, he knows I do. And maybe it is time to tell someone about what happened.