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“It’s just a nickname,” I said with a laugh as I finally got the door open.
“A nickname?” she laughed. “Well, I know you don’t mean Mary of the Virgin variety, so you better explain.”
“Poppins,” I clarified, but only after my ass hit the seat and both feet were in. She was more likely to wait for me if she was also waiting on an answer. “Where the hell did you get that Barbie in your purse?”
She shrugged. “Stuff tends to build up in there.”
“A Barbie? What else is in there? Tell me it’s handcuffs and a short skirt.”
She shrugged again like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You better tell me where to go. I’m not good with directions.”
“You just backtrack.”
“All I remember is that your wang hangs left.”
“Not my wang,” I contested through a laugh.
She smiled. “Take it up with the judge.”
“Only if the judge is you,” I teased back.
“Put your boner away, Thatcher. The ruling is final,” she said with a wink and pretended to bang a gavel on the dash. My cock must have been a pretty shitty listener, though, because that fucker did the exact opposite. I shifted in my seat and pointed in the direction she should go.
“Just follow this back around to the right and turn right at the light.”
“Right? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said with a secret smile.
After she was done, I pointed out the next left, and that was when she really got suspicious.
“Wasn’t the Saw Mill River Parkway back there? I thought I saw a sign.”
“You have to go a different way to get back on,” I lied.
Her eyes narrowed, but she kept driving for another mile before she questioned it.
“I think your wang is fucking busted, Thatcher. I’m not seeing the Parkway anywhere.”
“Oh, you know what?” I said, playing along. “I think you’re right. Just go right up here. You can turn around in this parking lot.”
“Ughhhhhh,” she moaned, and I had to stifle a laugh.
Gravel slid under the tires as she gunned it through the entrance and started to execute her turn. When she was about halfway through her U-turn, I yelled, “Wait! Stop!”
“What?” she shrieked back, slamming forcefully enough on the brakes that we skidded to a stop.
I pulled the door handle to open it and climbed from the car, watching as she did the same before answering. Her eyes were crazy again, and I felt the phantom lasers on my skin. Luckily, the burn of an imaginary laser was pretty mild. “Okay. Don’t be mad, but I wanted a milkshake.”
“Oh, you motherfucker,” she seethed.
With a jaunty wave and a completely unapologetic smile, I turned to head into the ice cream shop, maniacal laughter rumbling my chest all the way to the door.
“Laugh it up now, but that’s the only milkshake you’re gonna see today. And you better fucking believe mine brings all the boys to the yard.”
I’d see about that.
“Get out of the car, Cass,” Thatch demanded, holding the door open with his bear claw of a hand. I stared at it with irrational anger as the size and strength and fucking veins of it did their best to tempt me into mental porn GIF territory.
Fuck you, traitorous tactile teases.
One activity after the next, the giant fucker had tricked me into chauffeuring him around all day. To the party and ice cream, of course, but also to the bank and several rental properties he apparently owned in Queens before taking over behind the wheel. Even then, I had a feeling he’d been tempted to take me to a bar or two, but I’d slurred several sleepy threats to his life and, evidently, one stuck.
Thank fuck.
We were currently sitting in front of his building, and I was more than ready to head back to my place so I could begin my sleep marathon. But he was trying like hell to cockblock me from my bed. After everything he’d put me through today, now he was convinced I was too tired to drive home.
I shook my head. “I know I’m a real joy to be around, but you’ve monopolized enough of my time today. So, move your ass, T-bag. I’m going home.”
He stretched his big arms across the top of the door and the roof of the car and leaned forward, smirking down at me. “Honey, I know you have many talents, but I’m seeing a dilemma with trying to drive from there.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, fighting the gravity of my heavy eyelids. As much as I tried, they wouldn’t open past a squint.
“Pretty sure you need the steering wheel and pedals to get this clown car to move.” He nodded toward the opposite side of the dashboard. “Which just so happens to be over there.”
I followed his eyes and realized I was still in the passenger seat.
Well, shit. I guess I really am tired.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious, but I already knew that,” I lied, unbuckling my seat belt and making a move to climb over the console. Thatch stopped me before I could make another inch of progress by locking his big, meaty arms around my waist and pulling me out of the car.
“Goddammit! Put me down, you ogre!”
But Shrek ignored my demands, tossing me over his shoulder and striding toward his building. With impressive precision, he tossed the keys to the doorman and instructed him to park the Zipcar in an approved space.
“No! Do not park it! I’m using it!” I shouted as I slapped him across the back with an opened palm.
“Calm down,” he said through a chuckle as his legs ate up the tile in long, fluid strides.
“Thatch!” I shouted even louder, my voice echoing against the marble walls of the swank lobby. Fucking hell, I hadn’t been in control of one goddamn thing today.
One big hand landed against my ass in a smack, and I squealed in response.
“Cool it, Crazy, or else I’ll just keep spanking.”
I bored holes into his back, wishing like hell my feet were on the ground so I could slap the shit out of him. “If you touch my ass one more time, I will bite your dick off.”
“You know, I’m not much on teeth, but for you, I’ll find a way to enjoy it.”
Fucking king of one-upping.
He gripped the backs of my thighs with his big hands and strode onto the elevator. I heard him tap a button as the doors slid shut and then we were moving, up, up, way up, to what I could only assume was the penthouse level.
Thatch didn’t put me down until we were inside his apartment and my ass was hitting a plush leather couch. “Stay there,” he demanded. “I’m going to heat us up some food, and hopefully, that will give you enough energy to ride the subway home.”
“I’m not a dog,” I retorted as I let my head fall back against the cushions. I didn’t even allow myself the opportunity to browse his apartment. My eyes had already fallen shut from the luxurious feel of his couch, and I was too tired to think about anything else. The decor, the man—the weird way arguing with him made my blood hum—all of it would have taken a considerably larger amount of energy and cognitive function to explore.
“Comfortable, isn’t it?”
I peeked out of one eye to see Thatch standing above me with an amused grin on his face.
“I thought you were making me something to eat?”
“I thought you weren’t tired?”
The room went dark even as I flipped him the bird. “I’m just resting my eyes.”
“You know, that’s exactly what my mom says right before she takes a forty-hour nap.”
My lips twitched. Funny bastard.
“Shut up and make me food,” I retorted, but my voice wasn’t very convincing. Sleep was trying like hell to make me her bitch.
All I got in response were a few soft chuckles and the sound of his footsteps fading away.
“Huh?” I mumbled at the feel of big arms cuddling my body against a rock-hard chest.
Am I having another Henry Cavill dream?
I lifted my hands to cover my eyes from the light and the possibility of getting hit by rogue debris. It always seemed to be dusty in my Superman fantasies. And if it wasn’t a dirt thing, it was another. Last Cavill fantasy, I got a mouth full of cape instead of Supercock, and I had promised myself I’d never let that unfortunate dream sequence happen ever again.
“You fell asleep on the couch in about the most awkward position I’ve ever seen. I figured you’d be more comfortable in my bed,” the voice said, soft yet husky, and undoubtedly turning me on.
“Henry?”
“Who the fuck is Henry?” The voice turned angry as we continued to move—or maybe we were flying?—to some unknown place.
I blinked my eyes open and came face-to-face with Thatch. His brown eyes were darker than normal, and his mouth was set in a firm line. I reached up and let my fingers run across the dark, scruffy, short beard covering his jaw. “You’re not Henry Cavill.”
“No,” he said with a smirk. “I’m better.”
“This dream is different, but hell if I’m not already into it.”
The truth was, I’d been here before, but it had been more of a daydream, a completely conscious exploration of what it’d be like to be close enough to Thatch that I could feel him, smell him—fuck him until I couldn’t walk. It made complete sense that I’d transitioned into thinking about it in my sleep too.
