Page 69 of The Sleight Before Christmas

Knowing our time is limited, I shake my head as our reality sets in.

“Thatch, my parents—”

“I couldn’t give a fuck less,” he drives into me so hard that I cry out, “if the whole fucking house hears us.”

“Oh ... God, yes, but no, not really though, right? Because we’re just playing, oh fuck!” Thrust, thrust, thrust, “T-thatch!”

“The only one playing right now,” thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust, “is you,” he utters, his voice full of lust as he clamps a hand to muffle my increasing moans while tightening his grip on my hair. My clit pulses as he slows his pace to toy with me, sliding in just enough to penetrate without giving me the full feel I’m so desperate for.

“Thatch,” I mewl against his palm.

“What’s that?” He allows an inch of space for me to speak, loving my beg. It’s everywhere on him. His beast on full display. The curve of his perfect ass mesmerizes me, as does the way he rolls himself into me. He’s so damned beautiful, but all I can voice is my need.

“Touch me ... f-fuck me, Thatch. Please.”

“Need to be fucked, Brat? I thought you were all good?”

Sliding the palm on my mouth to my throat, he pulls me flush to his chest as he thrusts in deeper while still allowing me to keep my view.

“Yeah, I see you watching me fuck you. I see everything at all times, Mrs. O’Neal. Maybe you should keep that in mind for the future.”

He drives in hard to punctuate each word, and I go boneless. Gripping my hip, he bottoms out with his next few thrusts to the point I see stars. I’ve always loved it hard and a little painful, and when my husband is in this rare mood, he delivers.

Every. Single. Time.

Anxious to feel him, for him to fully unleash, I savor every second of this version of my man, of the hostility in his posture. As much as we played lately, I finally got to him, like I used to—the payoff so incredibly worth it.

“Since you seem determined to send me to an early grave, I’m going down the way I want to.” He fills me to the brim, thrusting so hard he practically lifts me from my toes as he muffles my groan. I sink against him, overfull and brimming, my fingers inching toward the pulse between my thighs. Missing nothing as stated, he swats my hand, hard.

“You think you can make yourself come better than I can?” Pushing me back down, he starts to pound into me, his palm firmly against my parted lips as I begin moaning uncontrollably.

“You’re so full of shit, Serena. Walking around, putting on airs like you’re some kind of nice girl with high standards, but I know better because you love being fucked by this gutter rat.”

Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust.

I watch him jackhammer into me, lost in sensation, in the movement of his hips, the flex of his ass, all of it as I start to climb.

“Getting close already. You can’t fake that. I know this pussy so well. Because I claimed it a long time ago. Just like I know the girl. The girl who wants so badly for permission to act bad.”

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

He strokes me perfectly, to the point I start to climb and tighten around him, even as my pulsing clit begs for attention. Fully attuned, he shoves his fingers into my mouth. “Wet them thoroughly if you want that little clit to get the attention it needs.”

Sucking his fingers deep, I soak them as he pumps into me with abandon, my legs shaking uncontrollably as I quickly start to come undone.

“Oh no, you’re not getting off so easily.” Stopping his hips, he turns his head, finding my eyes in our reflection as he issues his threat. “Maybe you’re not getting off at all.”

“Thatch,” I beg, fucking beg, as he begins to pump into me again, the climb heightened by our connection.

“I know you,” he whispers. “I know how fucking filthy your mind is. I know what this pussy wants,” he reaches around and presses his fingers against my clit, massaging it so perfectly that I let out a loud moan. “Fuck, for a smart girl, you sure are being fucked stupid,” he spits, eyes narrowing as a cry escapes me. “Now we’re definitely going to get caught.”

“Thatch, please, we don’t have much—”

“I’m going to fuck my bitchy little wife for as long as I want,” he counters, pounding into me with such force that I inch my lower half away, angling myself to get him deeper.

“Christ, you’re so fucking dirty. You only wish you were half as nice as the girl you want to be. But it’s your nature, baby. You want that pain, and we both know I can make it fucking hurt.”

My answering moan fuels him as he unleashes briefly before slowing and stopping altogether. He shakes his head as if I’mdaft to further insult me. “Someone can’t handle their dick, so I guess we’ll have to stop.”

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