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Jane is too sensitive to touch, so I remove my thumb off her clit and keep thrusting while she pulsates around my cock. Little noises pant from her lips before she brushes hair from her eyes. Our gazes meet in a strong beat.
She sits up on her elbows, silk top twisted and hair messy. She’s spent, but curiosity glimmers in her eyes and awakens her enough. “Can I?” she asks subtly while I’m fucking her—her voice raspy and fingers curling around the sheets.
She’s hot as all hell.
I nod, and I pull out of Jane. She crunches up towards my chest, the prostate massager already in hand and lubed.
Still kneeling, I move closer to her body, which purposefully tugs her legs higher, the backs of her knees under the palms of my hands. She returns to a state of aching need.
She quivers. “And I thought…I was terrific at sex.”
I almost smile. “You’re the best there ever could be, Jane.” I feel pressure on my asshole as she reaches under me. I breathe in, and she’s careful as she inserts the toy.
Oh…fucking…Christ.
Vibrations against my prostate send extra shockwaves through my nerves—and ragged breath comes harsher through my nose.
Watching Jane—her eagerness and excitement—just throbs my cock even more. I stroke my shaft a couple times.
“How’s that?” she asks after fitting the massager inside me.
“Good.” Every time I clench around the thing, my nerves prick a million eye-rolling ways—and my biceps and traps flex into stretched, searing bands.
I pull her ankle, drawing her further onto the bed. She collapses off her elbows with a wanting noise, and I stretch her right leg higher, filling her back up with my length.
Carnal, visceral need.
I fuck her. Deep into her pussy. Over and over. Mounting towards a peak. She loses hold on my shoulders, her fingers slipping and her body trembling. She contracts around my cock, and I just rock through her orgasm without pause. No break.
Each thrust forward, my ass flexes and the massager nails my senses. Light bursts in my vision. God-fucking-dammit—a groan scratches my throat. “Jane.”
“Thatcher.” Tears prick her eyes, and I brush them away with my thumb. “Deeper,” she whispers as her eyes start fluttering.
My whole body thrums, blood rushing, head splitting. I’m on another level, and she’s just as far gone. Wedging a second pillow under her bottom, I bend her legs more and curl my arms around them higher against my chest. Sinking in faster and deeper. Building and building until there’s nowhere to go.
One more thrust, and a prostate orgasm rips through me. I come hard into a mind-numbing bliss. I bask in every fucking second, a few more pumps, and I ease out of my fiancée.
Jane is gathering awareness of the room and her body. Still breathing like she’s racing up a hill. “That…was…” She blinks and remembers the toy. “Do you need…?”
I reach under and pull the thing out. “I’m good.”
“Did it work?” she asks curiously.
“Hell yeah.”
Jane smiles, looking satisfied and satiated.
We end up lying back down together. Under the sheets at the head of the bed—and I notice Ophelia perched near my ankle. Honestly, I’ve noticed her there for a while, watching us.
By now, I’m used to the feline audience.
Jane turns into my chest. Our lips meld together, and she rubs my dick lightly before she yawns. It’s still morning, and she’s about to fall right back to sleep. But she fights exhaustion.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She playfully pats my cheek. “Sounds like a terribly wonderful idea…but first I have to tell you something.” She battles a deeper yawn. “Or rather, two somethings.”
We just had deep sex, and I’d prefer Jane to relax and not force herself awake. But she folds her arms across my chest and rests her chin on her forearm.
And I see slight concern in her eye. Which pushes me to shut up and let her speak.
“I’m not sure how you’ll take this,” she starts.
I stroke sweaty pieces of hair off her face. “Try me.”
“I’ve always dreamed to one day be there for Moffy the way that my mom was there for her sister. I plan to extend the offer now that he’s with Farrow. I’d love nothing more than to do this for them…you look utterly confused.”
“I’m not.” I understand what she’s saying, what she’s referencing.
Rose Calloway was a surrogate for Daisy. She carried her sister’s child, and almost fifteen years ago, Rose gave birth to Winona Meadows.
“You want to be a surrogate so you can help Maximoff have kids?” I ask if I’m right.
“Precisely.” She smooths her lips. “Since you and I are building a future together, I want to make sure you’re okay with this before I tell Moffy and Farrow.”
She’ll be pregnant with their baby… “From what I remember, Winona is still genetically Daisy and Ryke’s child, right?”
“Right. My mom just carried her, but obviously Maximoff and Farrow need an egg, and I thought…well, I’d be willing to give them mine.” She looks more nervous because this changes things.
She’d be the kid’s biological mom. They would have Jane’s DNA, her features.
“Moffy and Farrow might not even say yes,” Jane says quickly, but I can see that she hopes they do. “Say something, please.”
I realize I’m stoic, nothing passing through my hardened face, and I let go and stare deeper into Jane. In awe of her kindness and love. “You’re a beautiful person. I hope you know that.”
She starts crying.
I hold her, and I kiss the top of her head and whisper, “I love you, and I’m by your side in everything.” After a few minutes, she dries her eyes and looks back up at me.
I nod. “The second something?”
“Yes. It’s good news.” Her cheeks dimple in a smile. “Remember how we agreed not to get married before Moffy and Farrow?”
“Yeah.” I remember.
Jane doesn’t want to take the spotlight from her best friend, and I can appreciate that. If roles were reversed and Banks were Maximoff, I’d want my brother to get married first.
When my mom asked me about the wedding date—I told her the truth. We didn’t have one, and it probably wouldn’t be for years.
Maximoff and Farrow have always wanted a long engagement. Two years, they said. Which would make our engagement even longer.
I can wait decades, but I’d love nothing more than to call Jane my wife. I’d marry her tomorrow if I could.
Her lips lift in a smile. “Maximoff said he doesn’t want my engagement to last so long just because of him. Farrow agreed. They’re getting married this year.”
I’m blown back for a second. Emotions surging. My eyes burn, overwhelmed, and I rake a hand over my mouth. I’m going to marry her sooner. Maximoff and Farrow gave that to Jane because they love her. She gi
ves up everything for everyone, and maybe they could see that she shouldn’t have to give something up for them.
“Jane,” I breathe and touch the top of her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She lightly presses her fingers to the creases beside my eye. “I see it.”
We just stare at one another, love flooding us.
I wish love could be enough to carry me through dinner tonight. But knowing her brothers, I could strap on a million pounds of adoration for their sister, and it still wouldn’t be good enough.
43
THATCHER MORETTI
The logistics of tonight can go straight to hell.
I’d have preferred driving my fiancée to her childhood home. But I’m not her bodyguard, and I’m still dealing with the fact that Tony is on her detail. He has one month left. One month.
After that shit, he’ll be transferred to Charlie’s detail—which puts Oscar in a bind.
And on top of that shit, he’ll be promoted to Omega lead.
All I see is shit.
I remember Akara’s words. Don’t worry about it, he said.
I am worrying about it, but I trust him. When we were leads—when it was me and him—he’d explain more of what’s happening. Now I’m just left to follow.
And that’s the easier part. I’d follow Akara into darkness time and time again.
Banishing the aggravation and pure dislike I have for Tony is more difficult. It’d have been simpler, if I could’ve accompanied Jane to the Cobalt Estate.
But she said that she wanted to talk to her siblings before I arrive. To make sure they won’t slaughter me tonight.
I feel like I need swords, axes, and a fucking trebuchet to attend this dinner.
Making it out alive without causing a Cobalt Civil War is my main goal.
To make matters more fucked, all the cars in the garage are gone. Which means I have to take one of the security SUVs on the curb.
When I step out onto the sidewalk, I’m met with a succession of flashes. Glaring in the night.
Paparazzi—their voices topple on top of each other, fighting to be heard. I raise a hand to my eyes, trying not to be completely fucking blinded on the way to my car.
