He kisses me, gathering fire, and then gently pulls his fingers out.
While he shifts back, I drop my feet to the floor and sit on the edge of the mattress. Thatcher towers above me, but I’m at a perfect angle to give him head.
I also really, really want to grab his ass.
He unbuttons his slacks, and I tug them down. Dark gray boxer-briefs mold his hard length that is…impressive.
The longer I stare, the more my mouth slowly falls. I can feel him watching me like I just watched him.
My ankles hook around his legs, and I slip my palms down the back of his boxer-briefs. Squeezing his peach-perfect ass with two hands.
“I love your butt,” I say as pointedly as he did.
Light reaches his brown eyes. He expels breath through his nose, pent-up. I can clearly see how badly.
He nods. “I love your voice.”
My stomach flutters. Most people find my constant chatter grating after a while, but he makes me feel so very desired. And safe.
And terribly beautiful.
Thatcher pulls down his boxer-briefs, freeing his rock-hard erection. In stunning view.
He is huge. My jaw is now on the floor. I think my prior estimations were off. I think he may be more than eight-inches. That is about to be inside of me. I ache for more intense pressure.
Thatcher steps out of the boxer-briefs, buck-naked in front of me.
I stroke his length, my hand looking small around his shaft. His abs tighten, a heavier breath concaving his firm chest.
He brushes my sweaty hair off my cheeks, and we lock-eyes while I suck his tip.
A rough groan rumbles in his throat, and he grits down, his nose flaring.
I want to explore him too. Intrigue floods my eyes. I rub him up and down with a tight grip, and with my other hand I press two knuckles against his taint and knead gently.
His shoulders tighten, head almost tilting back. “Fuck.” He cups the back of my head.
I’m about to shift my finger closer to his hole. He obviously feels where I’m going, and as Thatcher catches my eyes, he nods me onward. He even says, “Go ahead.”
Have I found my perfect match?
In bed. I mean, in bed . I clarify to myself instantly, my cheeks roasting. It’s not as though he heard my slip.
I’m fine.
“I have lube.” I bend to my nearby suitcase that I left in reach. “I brought some…for my vibrator,” I clarify, unzipping my suitcase and quickly procuring a lube packet in a pocket. I kick my suitcase closed, lube my finger, and continue onward.
One hand on his length, the other returns to his ass.
His palm is resting on top of my head now.
I tease outside of his hole, and I slip my finger inside of him. Using a come hither motion, I massage his prostate, and his muscles contract, breath heavies in a full-bodied manner.
He clutches my chin, and he guides his shaft between my lips.
Yes.
I suck his cock. Not able to take all of him, but a guttural noise tears through his lungs. His jaw tenses, and he blinks, his eyes aching to roll.
He pulls back, almost completely, and before I ask why, he tells me, “We have to be louder.” He holds my gaze. “I need to be inside you, Jane.”
I inhale. “Wholeheartedly…” Agree. He’s already sliding my panties down my legs. Freeing us of the last article of clothing.
And then Thatcher goes to his backpack on the chaise.
I tie my sweaty hair in a low pony and watch him dig in the backpack.
In seconds, he returns to the bed with a condom. Standing in view, letting me see, he rips the package open, and he sheaths himself with one hand.
My eyes have grown. That will be a mental image engrained in my head for blissful eternity.
So swiftly, Thatcher hoists me up around his waist, my legs wrapped around him, and he climbs onto the bed with me tucked to his body.
He rests my back against the soft comforter. His build skimming my body, his palm pinned flat on the mattress way above my head.
I clutch his ass, and my hips instinctively rise up into him.
“Fuck , Jane,” he groans; he has a hand on my thigh, and his other hand moves to the top of my head. He spreads my legs wider with his knees.
He’s not in me yet, but while I’m lying on the bed, he sits up and tucks a pillow beneath my lower back. “I’m big, so I’m going to go slow at first. Try not to move that much when we start. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I feel his fingers brush against my swollen entry. I take a measured breath. “I’m curious. How do you know I haven’t…taken something as big as you before?”
“The way you were staring at my cock said you haven’t.”
I smile softly. He can read me so well. But that is known.
“You heard what I said before?” he asks for confirmation.
“I did,” I murmur. “I’ll try to be still.”
He leans down. Kissing me deeply, he finds my hand on the champagne comforter and laces our fingers. I feel him shift his other hand to our pelvises, and he slowly, slowly begins to fill me with his hardness.
The pressure is overwhelming at first, and my thighs quake, my whole body begging for another climax that he’s been supplying.
“Thatcher,” I moan.
“I have you.” His words are firm. He concentrates on my features, my body, and he eases further inside of me.
I bow my hips, rocking forward on impulse—oh no. I intake a staggered breath at the pinch of pain, stars dancing in my vision. Too much too fast.
“Easy,” Thatcher says, very serious, and he leans back down, kissing the outside of my lips. He studies me for another beat and rubs my clit.
I tremble. Better. And I blow out a controlled breath, relaxing.
He sits back up on his knees, and I fixate on how I’m lying on a beautiful bed, and my legs are spread around my handsome bodyguard, and his cock is sliding in me.
Arousal balls up in my throat.
I greedily and selfishly wish this could happen again. Possibly forever. Jane.
I push past those thoughts and enjoy this moment with Thatcher for all its worth, and to me, it’s worth a lot. He is risking so much, and I don’t take that for granted.
Thatcher lets go of my hand and clasps my wide hips. He drives deeper, deeper inside of me.
“Yes,” I cry. “Yesyesyes. ” I feel so full, and I reach a peak incredibly fast. He is just in me, and I contract around him. My head lolls back, my body arching. Sensations pummeling me like waves crashing to shore.
“God,” Thatcher chokes on a husky groan, and he takes a pause. Letting me catch my breath. He puts his hand to my heart that speeds out of control.
After a minute, he starts to thrust in and out, in and out. His pace mounts a euphoric friction in my body. I angle my head and I watch his cock disappear in me—oh my…
Pleasure drives straight to my core. I shake.
“Fuck ,” he grunts.
My moan pitches the air like a cry of ecstasy, and I clench and come around him. My legs twitching. “ThatcherThatcher…oh my God. ” Water wells the corners of my eyes, and I turn my head into the mattress, gasping.
“Christ , Jane,” he groans, and finding my hand again, he threads our fingers. He leans down, and our mouths meet.
I’m sweaty and my heart is beating rapidly out of my body again, but still, I desperately want his lips against mine.
We kiss, his tongue urging my mouth apart so sensually, and he’s rocking into me. Not having come yet, but he slows his tempo. Like he understands every inch of me is a tender hotspot. Gradually allowing me to build back up.
He deepens the kiss and then breaks away first. Just to ask, “Alright?” I’m nodding, but maybe he doesn’t believe I understand what he’s asking.
Possibly I look glazed and spent, but I’m not yet.
He reaches down between our bodies. His thumb skims my swollen clit. It’s tender but touchable, and I instantly crave more friction. I grind forward into him.
Thatcher shifts us slightly. He hooks his arm under my knee, and he braces his forearm to the bed, spreading me more while he drives harder inside of me. Oh God. Missionary, but with Thatcher cloaking me…
I hold on to his toned back.
Every thrust is long and deep and makes a loud screech on the rickety, iron bed, and with each push forward inside of me, the headboard naturally knocks into the wall.