Page 59 of The Sleight Before Christmas

“I’m safe, Thatch,” I assure as he grinds more urgently against me, the look in his eyes lethal, almost feral, until he shakes his head.

“You’re anything but fucking safe for me.”

“Please,” I cry out hoarsely. “Please take me.”

“I fucking can’t,” he rolls against me again as I pound against his chest, not wanting to go anywhere without thefeeling of him. “Thatch, not this way, I want, ah,” I topple over as the orgasm flushes through me.

He groans as he comes not long after and collapses, shuddering as he buries his face in my neck. I stroke the skin at his nape, staring at the ceiling of the shed, my chest thundering as my mind races with any reason I can think of for why he’s refusing to go further.

“I want to,” his words are muffled before he turns his head and presses his lips to sip the tiny tear of rejection I set free, thinking in no way would he catch it. Embarrassment threatens as he captures it with his lips and tongue.

“Serena—”

“Don’t console me, Thatch. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Fuck that,” he forces me to face him, pinching my chin. “Believe me, I’ve never wanted a girl so much in my life.”

“Yeah, well, it’s obviously not enough to get past whatever is in your head.”

“You’re what’s in my fucking head.” His whisper is so faint, it’s as if I’ve imagined it. “And you shouldn’t give your body to just any man. Your attention. I don’t deserve it. Not like this. We’re in a filthy fucking shed, Serena.”

“Thanks for the lecture,” I state, pushing at his chest until he allows me to sit. “Do you think I’m some virginal princess that deserves white linens and a fairy tale setting?”

“Yes, I fucking do,” he snaps. “I absolutely fucking do.”

His response takes me by surprise, but I manage to counter. “Well, I’m not sure what world you live in.”

“Not yours,” he states before pulling away from me to stand.

“There are no princes, Thatch. That’s what I’ve discovered since I left my castle, and I’m not really into the white knight thing anyway. I like sex. No, I love it, and I love to fuck,” I spit venomously, “and to be fucked. I left dry humping behind in high scho—”

I’m cut off by his hand, which is now clamped around my throat, his eyes flaring in warning from where he now kneels in front of me. His voice cutting through the air, tone lethal.

“I’m hanging on by my last shred of decency. If you weren’t Allen’s daughter, I’d be balls deep in your perfect pussy right now while fingering your tight little ass. For the last fucking time, I’m not a nice guy, Serena. And I’ve never met or known a knight either because I’m a fucking gutter rat.” He rakes his lip as he doles out more warning. “And we don’t ask for permission. We take. You have no idea who you’re inviting into your life and between your legs.” He tilts his head. “But the more you run off at the mouth, the more I’m starting to think my influence on you is not what we need to be worrying about.”

I can’t help my grin as he releases his hold and finally frees me to speak. “So then, shut me up with some of that gutter.”

He groans and drops his head. “Fucking Brat.”

“What you thinking about sister?” Whitney asks as I eye Thatch as he drops the last of the decorations at the bottom of the tree. He smirks after hearing her question but doesn’t look up.

“Nothing,” I lie, trailing Thatch as he takes the stairs, two at a time, his lifting lips taunting me the entirety of the way up.

“I need to do some wrapping,” I lie just as Kenny and Dolly start to sing ‘I Believe in Santa Claus.’

“No Santa!” Peyton screeches in order to kill the music, though it’s not enough to kill the vibe or my growing hunger.

“But we’re decorating the tree,” Whitney protests.

“Uh, it’s just one present because it’s a big surprise,” I dig the shovel even further into my lie as I start to make my way down the ladder, “and I don’t want it spoiled.”

Truth is, I’m horny in a way I haven’t been inyears, and it’s all thanks to my husband and the memories he’s stirring up—with his whispers, subtle tongue flicks, and long looks. Over the last week, they’ve started to add up, and he’s all but confessed his plans to seduce me. Oddly enough, and after decades together, it’s working. Last night we dry humped, and he refused to stop until I came, exactly like the night I just relived, now fresh in my memory.

Just after, wholly ready and prepared to fully reenact, Thatch tucked me into his arms in an attempt to force me to sleep. He was hard for an hour after because I was restless, and more than once ran my ass along his cock to try and tempt him. Only to be refused and further taunted by his infuriating chuckle. Rinse and repeat until I finally drifted off. With the memory warm both from that night and last night, I’m starting to feel the beat constantly. Clit pulsing now and thoroughly baited, I track Thatch up the stairs. In search of both the man and the friction, I deflate when I don’t spot him in any of the rooms. Stepping into the Raggedy Ann room last, I spot Gracie on the bed, fully immersed in her book.

“They’re decorating the tree,” I tell her.

She nods absently, utterly ignoring me for the plot she’s heavily into. Unable to help it, I grin and shut the door behind me. I was her age when I discovered reading and romance. In search of my chosen hero now, I deflate fully when I don’t spot him in our cabin bedroom. Deciding he must have gone back down while I was talking to Gracie, I sigh in disappointment. Turning, I stop when I see Thatch behind me, slowly closing the door of the bedroom. His eyes travel slowly down my body as helifts his chin, his expression smug as he secures me in his trap. “Looking for me?”

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