Jane melts. “Thatcher.” It’s a wanting, needing, pleading Thatcher, but she adds fast, “If you plan to punish yourself, then you better include me. We’re in this together. So if you can’t come, then I can’t either.”
My jaw tenses. That will kill me.
She tries to read my features. “Frankly…” Her voice softens. “I’d much rather you not punish yourself at all because it won’t make you feel any better.”
I know she’s right.
But I’ve never known how to let myself off the hook that easily.
I shake my head. “I deserve hell.”
“You deserve to be happy,” Jane combats with so much conviction, and I hear my grandma’s soulful voice—be happy.
It’s not a single step into happiness. Not for me. To let myself have that is five-hundred klicks away, and my trek only just began when I chose something happy in my life, for once.
When I chose Jane.
I cup her cheek. The plaid blanket slips off her shoulder, heat brewing between us.
I put words into the quiet. “I can be happy without sex for a night.” Really, I might be fooling myself this one particular night.
She lifts her chin. “So can I.” She puts her hands on my flexed abs in attempt to shove me back, but she applies no force.
We stare into each other.
We breathe heavier.
“I don’t need you,” Jane suddenly whispers.
Something sharp impales my chest. “Say again?”
“I don’t need you.” In the candlelight, I can see her eyes reddening. “I can get myself off.”
I go rigid. “I don’t doubt that, but would you rather have your fingers or my cock, honey?”
She intakes a staggered breath. “My fingers.”
I squint at her, my pulse on a seasick free-fall. “You’d rather have yourself than have me?” I’m confused as all hell.
Jane blinks rapidly, shaking cobwebs out of her head. “Your cock is just an appendage. It’s a fact.” She’s trying to isolate feelings from sex.
I glare at the window, then try to soften my eyes when I set them back on her. “My cock is attached to my body, and trust me when I tell you that every time I’m inside your pussy, it’s never some vapid, emotionless thing.”
She opens her mouth, but words are stuck on her tongue. “I…”
“My cock is yours, but I’m not a sex toy. I’m better because I love you, and I will fuck you with nothing less than love, Jane.”
She holds onto my waist like her knees are about to buckle. “I…yes—no. No.” She inhales. “I’m fine with my fingers.”
“You are?” I think she’s conning herself.
Jane blows out a measured breath. “I don’t need your love.”
It sucker-punches me.
“I want it,” she clarifies quickly. “But like in this instance, I don’t need it. I can survive on my own.” She looks pained, and she holds my hand that encases her cheek. Like she doesn’t want me to let go, but her palm still rests on my abs, a millisecond from shoving me back.
We’re both at war with ourselves.
I force down a raw emotion that I’ve never felt before, not like this. I’m realizing in my attempt to punish myself, I’m pushing her away from me and towards whatever’s been pressing her lately. I’m going to lose Jane if I keep this same masochistic course.
It’s all or nothing.
And I want all of her. I always have.
I dip my head and whisper against her ear, “What if I don’t want to survive without you?”
An aching noise expels from her lips, and I release my hold of her cheek and fist the back of my shirt, pulling the fabric over my head. Bare-chested, I undo the buckle of my belt.
She fixates on my movements that write a story of devotion. I step out of my slacks. I take off my boxer-briefs.
Naked.
Erect, and I slowly sink down to my knees, my hand running along the curve of her hip and thigh before I kneel on the floorboards.
Jane grasps my hair, her throat bobbing in arousal. “Thatcher.”
I roll down her pastel jeans, revealing her velvet blue panties, and I hike her soft leg over my shoulder.
She whimpers. “God.”
Fire blazes in my veins, and my nerves light with kerosene. I kiss the inside of her thigh, watching her eyes drink me in and cling to me and beg me—and love me.
I pull aside her panties.
“Wait, wait,” she pants.
I go still. “Jane—”
“Am I allowed to touch you? I have to be certain because you can’t get me off if I can’t get you off. Together, remember?”
I hold her gaze in a vice. “You can touch me all you want.” She might think I’m choosing sex over celibacy, but I’m choosing us tonight and every fucking night hereafter.
I kiss her pussy, and her back arches in a soft cry.
Fuck. My cock stirs more. Hardens more. Pre-cum glistens on the swollen head. I pull her closer, my hand stroking her ass while I taste the most sensitive part of Jane.
She’s sweet, and her thighs vibrate as I lap my tongue over her clit.
“Thatcher,” she moans under her hitched breath. “God, yes. Please…more.”
My pulse sky-rockets, and skin-pricked heat builds sweat along my whole body. I watch her mouth break open with heady gasps.
The only time I pause is to reach over and grab a condom out of my bag. I tear the foil with my teeth and slide one on over my shaft.
“Yes, yes.” Her fingers tighten in my hair, and her head hits the wall. Eyes rolling back already. I could watch her come every minute, and I waste no time.
I kiss her heat before I rip her panties completely off, and she nods rapidly, hand to her forehead like her brain is spinning. I drop her leg and stand, and she claws hungrily at my body while our lips crash together.
I’m in another world with Jane.
And I never want to leave.
We devour one another, and I tear off her blouse, snap off her bra and throw it aside. Not a second after she’s bare, I clasp the backs of her thighs and hoist her up my body.
She gasps against my mouth, her legs weaving tightly and readily around my waist, and I can feel her heart pounding like we’re banging a drum together.
Candlelight flickers along her flushed face, and I bring her higher so our lips align. We share each inhale. Each exhale. Her body thrums against me.
Alive with ferocious energy.
“Please,” she breathes. “Thatcher.”
“Jane,” I groan.
We kiss in aggressive passion, our tongues tangled and lips stinging. Like we can’t be close enough, and deep isn’t deep enough. I have her ass in my hands, and her palms track burning lines along my biceps.
I lower her just slightly down my body, until her hips are in line with mine. It breaks our mouths apart.
She tries to catch her breath, but she watches my erection push against her wet folds.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
Jane lifts her gaze, and as soon as she sees the affection in mine, tears crease the corners of her eyes.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” I emphasize as I bridge us together, carefully and slowly fitting inside her pussy.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders and moans my name into the crook of my arm. High-pitched and staggered.