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“No. I do not want Lady Luxe. This is you and me. Just us.” The realization that I had let my dominance come out to play in such a way was humbling. My lips pursed, my eyes lowering as I nodded my head.
“Just us,” I repeated in humble agreement.
He released his hand from my hair, letting me back to my exploration, but this time, all thoughts of edging were gone. I wanted him. I wanted to taste him, as I had wanted to from our first scene together. My mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, tongue swirling as I tasted pure Thatcher.
“Fucking Christ!” His thighs clenched beneath my touch as I took him within my mouth, teasing and tasting him with a slowness that made my cunt drip for him. His sounds were as exquisite as they had ever been. His hands found my hair again as I found my rhythm, driving him further, taking him inch by inch and back again. My hand wrapped around his throbbing length, twisting and gliding up and down his shaft in time with the movements of my mouth. Wet, slippery, throbbing strokes up and down as he groaned and writhed beneath me.
“Sadie, enough. I’ll cum.”
“I want you to cum,” I murmured, pulling my mouth off of his cock for only a moment.
“And I will, but I want to fuck you. I need to feel you wrapped around me.”
“I am wrapped around you.” I sucked the head of his cock back into my mouth, tongue lapping at the tip of him where pre-cum had beaded again. He throbbed against my tongue, groaning as I flicked and fluttered my way down to the sensitive underside.
With a sharp jerk, he tugged me away from his aching length, pulling me off of him by the root of my hair and up towards him. I kissed my way up his body as he released my hair, my legs straddling him.
“Condoms are in the side table,” he groaned as my teeth grazed over his flat nipple.
“We’ve both been tested,” I murmured.
“I don’t want to be a father, Sadie.”
“It won’t be a problem,” I assured him, not wanting to discuss it further. My pussy ached for him. I ground my hips against his, my own wetness coating his length, letting him slide between my folds for only a moment as we both hissed at the heated sensation.
“I can’t take that risk,” he urged, his hands cupping my jaw as he forced me to look at him.
“Thatcher, I can’t.”
“This is important. We have to talk about it.” I could see the need in his eyes mirroring my own in their sapphire depths.
“No, you don’t understand,” I groaned. This was not the time to have this conversation. The time was an hour ago before this ever began, but that ship had well and truly sailed.
“Make me understand, beautiful.” His hands cupped my face, smoothing a loose curl of hair back behind my ear.
“I didn’t mean I can’t talk about this. I meant, I can’t have children.” The admission fell from my lips accompanied by a pang of pain and guilt long buried beneath years of emotional brick and mortar protection.
“What?” he asked, his brows furrowed in pity. That was exactly what I was afraid of. I did not want this moment marred and marked by pity, like a scar on the body of my already existing pain.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Thatcher. But I can assure you, you are at no risk of becoming a father. But if it makes you more comfortable, I can grab a condom.” I reached over to the bedside table, only to have him grab my wrist gently and stop my movements.
“I trust you.” His hand cupped my cheek again, thumb brushing over the line of my cheekbone with a gentleness that only furthered the ache in my soul.
I nodded, the moment needing no punctuation of words or acknowledgment. He pulled me to him, his lips meeting mine slowly, sensuously, his insistent exploration of my mouth reigniting the flame that had sputtered to an ember. It flickered and sparked back into a blaze that had me writhing over him.
I rose onto my knees, grasping his length in my hand as I positioned him at my entrance.
“Eyes here, baby. I want to see you as you feel me for the first time. I want to watch your eyes roll back in your head as my cock stretches you to fulfillment.” His words inflamed me until I was groaning, hips bucking as the head of his cock moved between my slick folds, ready for more, ready for everything.
I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, the head of him piercing through my folds and stretching me until I had sunk down hips to hips, groin to groin, fully connected. My eyes did, in fact, roll back in my head. The feeling of him inside of me, filling me, completing me, took my breath away. His hands found my hips, gripping me with all the passion he felt.
“Jesus Christ, you feel too good. Too fucking good,” he groaned out, his hips shifting, circling beneath me in the smallest of movements.
And I began to move.
I found my rhythm quickly, steadying myself with hands on his chest, nails digging into his solid, inked muscles, as I took my pleasure from him. Every swivel of my hips, every buck of his, pushed us slowly closer. We took our time, savoring the feeling of one another, reveling in each other’s bodies; in the sounds we made together.
My hands moved over my own body, up and over my stomach, over every bump of my ribcage until I cupped my breasts, flicking my nipples before moving up my throat and into my hair.
