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“Thatcher, I do not play without negotiation. No scenes can ever, or will ever, happen without proper planning and preparation.” I bristled at his advances, donning on every scrap of proverbial armor I could to not succumb to his advances.
His finger touched my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.
“Sadie.” The way he spoke my name made me shiver with desire. It dripped with pure sensuality and seductive prowess. “This hasnothingto do with a scene, or play, or kink. This is simply about a man who is literally rock hard at the thought of touching, tasting, and voraciously ravaging the incredible seductress before him. This is just a man, taking his chance.”
My mouth went dry at his words, my jaw hanging slack at the raw audacity of him. My thighs clenched, my sex ached, and my breath caught in my lungs as he pulled me up to him. Only a breath of space separated our bodies. One breath of space. Stuttering, panting breaths. His eyes were on mine. Mine on his. Our lips, mere millimeters apart.
“Thatcher,” I said in a near pathetic whimper, my resolve dissipating so rapidly I couldn’t grasp it to hold on to.
“Don’t think.”
And for once, I didn’t.
CHAPTER13
My eyes closedas his hand moved from my chin, sliding over my jaw. Fingers hooked around the back of my neck, applying pressure until my head fell back, my lips following suit as his mouth crashed over mine. Lips touching, gliding, opening to one another, as tongues explored and breaths mingled.
Everything fell away. My doubts, my worries, all the insecurities that had compiled themselves into a laundry list of reasons to not do this. Nothing existed outside of him, outside of me, outside of us.
We moved together, away from the table to an unknown place, as my footsteps followed his lead. His hands were on me, moving over the small of my back, up my spine, over my curves with a slowness that told a story of exploring desires and discovering pleasure in one another. My hands followed the line of buttons up his stomach to his chiseled chest, his heartbeat thundering beneath his rib cage, a reverberating echo that beat in time to my own pounding pulse.
His fingers delved into the hair at the nape of my neck, twisting, entwining, and wrapping around tresses. He tugged. I gasped. He groaned against my parted lips; the sound rippled over my tongue and was answered by my own gasp of need. My thighs bumped into the edge of the bed as we fell back against it in a fury of tangled limbs, searching hands, and eager kisses.
There was no hesitation in me, not one iota. There was no negotiation, no talk of safewords or hard limits. No discussion of birth control or preferred positions. Every question that I had used as a safety net went unasked, unanswered, and unremembered. Instead, I simply lost myself in the electrifying kiss that threatened to consume me utterly. I leaped forward with wild abandon, forsaking every voice in my head that nagged at me about safety and protocol, and let go of the chains that I had bound myself in through years of control and discipline. Those shackles tumbled to the ground as Lady Luxe left the room, making space for just Sadie, for just me. To just feel. To just be.
He was like a man facing his own demise, the way he kissed me. Like he would never see me ever again. Like he knew my pain, knew the real me that lived in secrecy, buried behind walls constructed through decades of unresolved trauma. I’d never felt anything like it. And that scared me.
He hissed as I scratched my nails down his muscled chest, catching his flat nipples as I reached for his belt. He knelt up, and I sat up with him, my shaking hands struggling with the belt. Thatcher’s insistent hands tugging at my dress only made it more difficult. We fumbled, pulling at one another’s clothing. Frustrated moans punctuated by leaning, awkward kisses filled the silence, and then suddenly his belt was gone, his pants unfastened, and my dress tossed somewhere in the shadowed depths of his room.
In an instant he was back over me, and I arched beneath him, needing the contact, needing the pressure he seemed all too happy to give. Kicking off my heels, I used my feet to work his pants down past the muscled curve of his ass. Only the thin silk of my panties and the jersey fabric of his boxer briefs separated his throbbing cock from my aching cunt. He swiveled his hips against me and I cried out with pleasure, my nails digging into his back.
“Thatcher,” I groaned. Hips ground against one another, the sensation causing me to screw my eyes tightly shut. His lips moved away from mine, marking an invisible path on their way down to my pulse point and onward to my collarbone. His tongue flicked, and my nails dug in. I couldn’t think, I could only react as his hands, his lips, his tongue, his cock, all worked over my body in a symphony of melodic sensuality.
“Let me see you.” He pulled back by inches that felt like miles. That small separation made me ache with desire for his nearness once more. I could feel it, his gaze roving over my body just as hungrily as his hands had trekked mere moments before. My eyes opened, my arms falling away from him to stretch up above my head, my back arching and jutting my breasts out for his observation.
His fingertips trailed from the hollow of my collarbone, down the center of my body, between my breasts and lower, to the concave recess of my stomach. My nipples, already hardened into stiff peaks, ached under his gaze. His hand grasped around my wrists in a show of dominance that, unlike any other time, I licentiously accepted. Pinning me to the bed, his head bowed, his lips wrapping around my waiting nipple, tongue flicking, swirling, and pulling my desire from a depth inside of me I hadn’t known existed.
I wanted him. I craved him. I needed him in a way that defied reason or logic.
“More,” I begged him. The hoarse, guttural desire in my voice surprised me, but I had no room to dwell on that in my lust-addled mind. I arched into his ministrations, his teeth grazing over one sensitive nipple, tugging it to a point of pain that had me gasping, and then groaning upon his release.
His thighs spread mine, opening me up to him. My hips arched once more, seeking a touch that I could not find. This submissive position, and his dominance, was foreign and unknown to me, yet I reveled in it. We were not Septus and Luxe here. Only Sadie and Thatcher, writing a story as yet unwritten, undiscovered, and untold.
“I can feel your wet, scorching heat.” His need-roughened voice vibrated across the skin of my breast with scalding breaths. His hands moved off of my wrists, down over my arms and to my breasts, cupping them as his thumbs brushed against the stiff peaks before his mouth descended once more. Nipping kisses, the flick of his tongue, and his panting breaths all drove me higher. My hips rose, seeking friction, touch, pleasure, with desperate dissatisfaction.
“I’ve wanted this since I first laid eyes on you.” His kisses rained over my rib cage, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he took his time, drinking in his pleasure from the flesh under his questing lips and tasting tongue. He nuzzled into the softness of my stomach, his hands moving down over my curves behind the small of my back, as he pulled me into his touch.
“So have I,” I admitted, unabashed and unashamed. I let go of my doubts, my insecurities, and lost myself in everything that was him. His mouth found my core, placing open-mouthed kisses over the silk of my panties. He breathed me in, his hot breath fanning over my cunt and making me shiver.
“I ache for you.” He groaned, the sound vibrating straight to my sensitive clit as he nuzzled in, taking his time. Fingers hooked into the sides of the fabric, he pulled the barrier between us down over my hips and thighs, tossing them off into the corner without a thought. His lips found the mark he had left on my inner thigh earlier that evening, licking, sucking over the slightly bruised spot. Teeth grazed, reigniting the pain he had left before.
I groaned, arching into the torturous bliss. He sucked, his tongue lapping. He was enhancing his mark, deepening the bruise, laying claim on my body just as I had claimed him. My eyes rolled back in my head. It wasn’t just the sensation; it was the depth of the moment, the intent of his actions. None of it was lost on me.
“Taste me, please.” I urged him with words, and with my hands in his hair, tugging at his thick, dark tresses until his lips found my slit, licking up the length of it and separating my folds until he found the nub of my clit. He groaned, so deep, so low, the sound vibrating and adding to the sensation of his incredible tongue. He was masterful as he licked and lapped me into a frenzy of desire.
I wanted to cum. I had wanted to since our first scene together, but I had never allowed myself that luxury. Tonight I didn’t hold back. He worked me higher, faster, pushing me towards a climax that had been days, weeks in the making. His fingers found my entrance, circling slowly, teasing me, and then pushing into my heated depths with an accuracy that made me sob with relief.
“Don’t stop.” I begged, I pleaded.
