Silence blankets the room as I rub Thatcher’s skin with a cleansing cloth. This could be the last time I touch him…
My stomach knots.
Enjoy it then.
I will.
I uncap the green cream. One dollop on my finger, I smear the green facemask down his nose like sunblock. My lips lift. “Mr. Moretti, I do say, you are quite handsome.”
He doesn’t reply, quiet as usual. But his palm slides underneath the hem of my shirt. His skin is warm against my skin, and his hand trails to the small of my back. Goosebumps prick my flesh. Cold and hot all at once.
I rub the mask on his cheekbones and forehead. My fingers trace every curve of his face, and it feels like one of the most intimate things we’ve ever done together.
His eyes fall into me like the video isn’t live recording behind me. Like the world is so far, far away. I lean in. He leans in. Our lips meet briefly. Suddenly. Like they were drawn together from the start.
We break apart just as quick. Heat compiling, but we can’t create a firestorm here.
I glance over my shoulder. Luna holds up a finger. “And—we’re off live.”
Sulli’s brows are sky high. “Fuck, are you to going for an Emmy or something?”
Luna beams like she’s witnessing something extraterrestrial. “Spring and fall are rising.”
More accurately, those seasons can’t rise together.
Fall rises when spring ends.
40
THATCHER MORETTI
“Wait.” Jane breathes against my neck. “Do you hear something?”
I stop thrusting up into her, my senses still sharp despite Jane sitting on my cock. Despite our skin slick with sweat, limbs rubbing and intertwined. She pauses grinding and moving up and down on me.
I’m leaning against the headboard of her four-poster bed. My hand lost in her brown hair, my other palm keeps her pressed against me protectively.
If need be, I’d be able to carry her out of her room in a swift second. No hesitation. No faltering.
My voice is a cavernous whisper. “Carpenter knocked a headband off the vanity.”
She has her back to the calico cat, perched proudly on the surface. The feline audience is necessary. Or else they’ll cry at her door.
I sense Jane focused on my eyes that sweep her room. Assessing. Landing on each cat.
Walrus is stalking a shadow from moonlight. Licorice is peeking out from the closet. Lady Macbeth sleeps like an old queen on the cushioned stool.
And Ophelia is at the foot of the bed. Curled up watching me fuck her owner. We’ve shooed her off the mattress four times already.
I focus directly on Jane. “All clear.”
Desire wells up in her eyes. “Thatcher.”
My pulse thumps. I cup her warm face, her pink lips unable to press together. In a permanent pant, and my cock throbs for friction while deep inside her tight heat.
In my peripheral, I catch the glint of light under the door.
Shadow passing by. A nearly inaudible creak.
Jane turns her head.
“It’s Toodles,” I whisper. The laziest cat sometimes camps out on the second-floor landing at night.
Jane eases, focusing on each other.
She holds my hard jaw in two delicate hands, our foreheads pressing. Looking into one another. Breath scorching my lungs. A power surge flames my nerve-endings.
I bring her closer on instinct. Our lips meshing, rampaging carnal needs, and I rock my hips up. She whimpers softly into the kiss.
My muscles contract. Every part of Jane feels fucking amazing against me. Hands. Thighs. Pussy.
She curls her arm around my neck. Rising higher to intensify the kiss, and my erection slides further out of her warmth.
I plunge my tongue between her lips. She trembles and searches my mouth with hers.
I flex up into Jane. Cock burying back into her.
She nestles her face in the crook of my shoulder. Smothering her gasps, but I feel them hot against my skin. Pressure fists me as I pump in slow waves—fuuck.
Fuck.
I brush her sweaty hair off her neck and suck her nape. Her hips bow forward. Grinding, her breasts smashed against my sculpted chest. As close as physically fucking possible.
She clenches around me.
Goddamn. My head spins. Oxygen ejecting, and I breathe hotter breath through my nose. Gritting down to keep from grunting.
Jane looks back, her eyes melting in pleasure while I thrust up and back down. Tonight has been one of the longest, most intense fucks of my life.
Slow and quiet. Passionate, exhausting in the best endurance-challenging way. I don’t remember when we started. I can’t tell when we’re going to stop.
As I push back into her, she reaches down, and I watch her touch her swollen clit. “Fuck ,” I grunt under my breath.
She contracts around me again—and Jane lifts her glistening fingers, her shimmering eyes on me. I know what she wants.
I clutch her wrist, and I guide her hand closer to my mouth. She smiles, and as she slides her fingers between my lips, I taste her against my tongue.
Gripping her wrist tight, I suck her fingers.
She crumbles to pieces, her body shuddering in silent waves. Her head against my chest. I wrap a strong arm around her back. Tucking her in close to me. I take her fingers out of my mouth and thrust deeper.
I barely hear her muffled words.
“Right there,” she moans. “Don’t stop. Please, please. ”
I quicken my pace. Sweat dripping down my temples.
Jane keeps moving her hips until she can’t any longer. A prisoner to her own pleasure that ripples through her body. Fuckfuckfuck. I press my forehead on the top of her head. Don’t come .
Don’t come
Not fucking yet .
My cock screams at me for release. But I breathe harder through my nose, controlling myself. She comes down, stilling, and I lift her hips and gently pull out of Jane. We don’t shift a lot. She’s on my lap. But my rock-solid cock stands at attention against her belly.
Jane inhales at the sight.
I’m about to change positions. But her fingers graze my shaft, and my chest collapses, shoulders tensed against the headboard.
Our eyes flit to each other, then to our bodies.
“Can you…?” Jane whispers, breathless.
I grip and tug my cock. What she wants to see. My large hand stroking my need. I hold the back of her head.
Jane watches, open-mouthed, her arousal building back up. Her eyes glimmer and she toys with my balls—my breath knots.
Christ. We kiss deeper, more urgently, and I can’t jack off anymore. Swiftly, I hoist her up, and she sinks back down on me.
Pressure overwhelming me again.
I thrust up. Careful with each pump, watching her reaction, and then I create more friction. Faster. More heat. Deeper. I shelter her high-pitched moans against my palm.
Quiet.
She kisses my palm and then licks it. A groan scratches my throat. Lights blink in my vision. I’m holding my breath.
My muscles stretch beyond fucking taut. Pulled into a raw visceral place. Our eyes embrace, clinging. I never turn away from Jane. Never look away, passion overgrown, and she cries out against my hand. Her body vibrating all over again.
God.
I push up. And erupt, releasing hard into an explosion of emotion. My chest rises and falls heavily.
We both come down, and as I pull out and we naturally shift to our sides under her pink sheets, I hold Jane and feel her heartbeat slow against my chest.
Her eyes flutter closed.
Exhaustion tries to sink me too. I’m almost there. You can’t spend the night. I should leave now, but heaviness and the warmth of her body draws me in.
I don’t want to disturb her. Not yet. She’s sleeping peacefully. Safe and content.
I shut my eyes, and the world goes dark.
Radio static fills my ears. “Phantom Two One, this is Phantom Two Actual. Maintain speed .”
“This is Phantom Two One. Roger that.”
Humvees on gravel and dirt mix with the static. “Viper Two Two, cleared hot .”
I wake.
Eyes snapped open. I’m covered in sweat. My head pounds.
Jane sleeps soundlessly next to me, her freckled cheek on my bicep. I check the clock. Zero four hundred hours. Unholy shit . I overslept.
I needed to leave an hour ago. I carefully shift my arm out from under Jane. Lifting the sheet and blankets higher on her bare, beautiful body.