Fuck, the pressure of Jane around me is mind-numbing. She squeezes and clenches, and I move her body up and down on my shaft.
She gasps, almost choking.
“Breathe, honey.”
Jane puts a hand to her heart like it’s beating out of her chest, involuntary tears soaking her cheeks. My eyes are raw with emotion, and I hold her against me with one hand and use the other to clasp her face. “Breathe.”
I pause and let her gulp air.
She tries to grind on me.
Christ. I grit down, my nerves snapping in pleasure.
“I don’t want to stop,” she says in a single breath. “Keep going. Keep going. Please.”
I rock my hips into her. Gently.
Slowly.
Almost teasingly, and she gasps again, our eyes locked.
I sink deeper. “Would you rather survive with me or without me?”
She clutches my biceps tighter. “With you.”
My muscles sear in magma. “Would you rather live with me or without me?”
“With you.”
Then what are you so afraid of, Jane?
I brace her shoulders to the wall and fuck her harder. Deeper and longer strokes, and I hit a spot that drives her over the edge. Right when she bucks into me, her legs shaking, I press her closer to my chest and I carry her to a twin bed.
Her pussy contracts in pulsating waves around my cock, and I flex my abs to stop from coming.
But I’m throbbing inside Jane, craving a release. I move her off my shaft, and I set her knees on the mattress. She practically collapses on her stomach, melting into a post-climax, and I let her stay in this position and tuck a pillow beneath her hips.
“Mmm,” she says, the cooing noise familiar and approving of my hands and actions.
I kneel behind her, spreading her legs wider, and I pull her ass back and drive into her heat. She tightens and pleasure builds at the new position.
Another high-pitched sound pitches its way out of Jane.
“Fuck,” I grunt. Fuck.
She glances back over her shoulder, lips split apart with each gasp as I ram into her, and I lean forward and kiss the hell out of my girlfriend. She has to arch back, causing me to slide deeper.
“Thatcher,” she gasps against my mouth.
I knead her breast, and once she’s back on her forearms, I’m all the way inside, touching a sensitive place that causes Jane to cry in soft breaths. Sweat caked on our skin, hair damp, and blood on fire.
“Deeper, deeper,” she moans.
I’m deeper than any man has ever been in this girl, and I’m not letting up. Not as her legs throttle. Not as I ascend a peak. Not as her fingers clench the blankets.
We come together in a spine-tingling, head-whirling, body-transporting climax, and I milk the sensation in a few more pumps while she searches for lost breath.
When we’re done, I pull Jane in my arms, and she splays on my chest like she’s lounging belly-down on a pool floatie. I make sure she’s under the blankets, as the night grows cold, and our eyes stay on each other for minutes upon minutes.
She’s lost energy to speak.
I’m not sure if I can say what needs to be said, and in time, we both drift to sleep.
19
JANE COBALT
“It was some of the best sex I’ve ever experienced, by far,” I whisper quietly to Moffy. Not that many people are in earshot. The tiny pub is nearly empty as the sun drops. One local drinks hard cider at the bar, and the bearded bartender chats leisurely with him.
We relax on the small sofa section, nestled around a fireplace and mounted TV. I love the old charm of northern Scotland. Coat of arms decorates wooden-paneled walls, and the oaky aroma of Scotch permeates around us.
“Even though you started out pushing him away?” Maximoff asks under his breath.
I press my knuckles to my lips. “I hate myself for that.” It pains me to admit. “I’m not even certain how it derailed there.” I stare at my lap. “But then again, I can’t see myself just…letting him take complete fault for everything and I’m trying not to be guarded about my feelings.”
We glance over at the bar as Thatcher, Tony, Donnelly, and Farrow order drinks. Oscar and Charlie are talking at a high-top table near the fogged window, and I hope my brother plans to stay longer. Most everyone will be here soon, and all of us only arrived earlier for a meeting with a local chef.
Charlie even asked genuine questions about catering, and I thought Maximoff’s smile would shatter the window. It’s almost like high school again, the three of us on good terms.
Wedding business is actually fun to discuss, but Moffy changed the subject to my relationship before we dove too deep into his nuptials.
“Janie.” Moffy scoots closer on the tufted leather sofa. “It’s pretty much normal to need the person you love.”
I slip my frilly pen in a binder pocket. “Do you feel as though you need Farrow?”
“Yeah.” He nods a few times. “Christ, I think I needed him before he even joined security.” He makes a face. “Don’t tell Farrow that.”
“Cross my heart,” I smile, but my lips fall quickly. I place my binder on the cushion beside me. “But regardless, you can still survive on your own without Farrow. Correct?”
He cracks a knuckle, lost in thought. “Maybe, but it’d be…” Grief clouds his eyes. “I don’t know. It feels like death.”
“God,” I murmur. “I don’t want to feel like I’m dying if my boyfriend isn’t with me.” Sudden panic scorches me, and I waft my sequined pink sweater. “I think I lied to him last night.”
“Wait, what?”
“I told Thatcher that I’d rather survive with him than without him, and sitting here, talking to you, I know that I’d rather be able to survive on my own more than anything else.” Yet, my throat closes like that’s not entirely truthful either, and my cheeks crinkle in a wince. “I’m not being logical, am I?”
He hugs my shoulders with a tough arm. “I don’t know if there’s a lot of logic in love.”
That frightens me.
I lean into my best friend and stare off at the wall.
He can tell I’m strangely quiet. “Maybe you should talk out your feelings with Thatcher and see what he says.”
“I’ve tried, and I set myself up for failure every time.” Being around him tends to tongue-tie me, and whenever I delve into emotions and fears, I feel like a panicked, spinning and wobbling coin. And I’m always scared I’ll land on the wrong side.
“He said he’d go at whatever pace you set,” Moffy reminds me. “He’s here for the long haul, so if it takes you a millennium to blurt out what you need to, he might still be around.”
“I know.” Thatcher is too good for me and my insecurities. I’m not so sure I deserve to have a man who’s sacrificed everything for me and who also has to wait forever for me. Sadly, I mutter, “He deserves better.”
“No,” Maximoff snaps. He touches my forehead like I’m running a fever.
“Moffy.” I start to smile.
He drops his hand. “Tu es la meilleure. Il a même de la chance de respirer le même air que tu respires.” You’re the best. He’s lucky to even breathe the same air you breathe.