Page 70 of The Sleight Before Christmas

“No,” I protest as he pulls out of me, and I turn on him, clawing his biceps.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I say, sinking my nails into his skin—something I know turns him on. My husband is no stranger to the love of a little pain with his pleasure. This interlude, as hot as it is, is only half the level of freaky as we can sometimes get. But sadly, I know our time is running out.

“Thatch,” I say in a one-word demand.

He lifts a skeptical brow as I peruse him. Covered in a sheen of sweat, his defined pecs heave with his chest as he schools his features expertly. “What’ll you give me?”

“Oh, fuck you,” I dig my nails in deeper as I dip my gaze to his cock. “I’m not the only one—”

“Nah, see, baby. I can go long stretches in this state. You made sure of that. So, I’ll tell you what ... you get on your knees and beg without words, and I’ll think about it.”

“You’re serious,” I gawk as his contempt-filled stare sets in with resignation.

“Knees on the floor now, or I pack this up,” he threatens, stroking his perfect dick to the head and back down.

“I guess then, pack it up.”

In an instant, I’m flattened to the counter, and he’s driving into me. His palm on my crown, lifting my head and forcing me to watch as he palms my mouth again with the other. Fucking me at a furious pace, I’m just about to come when he pulls out.

“Damnit, Thatch,” I snap, chest heaving, peaked nipples grazing the counter.

“On. Your. Knees. Brat,” he spits as I turn and slowly sink to my knees on the bathmat.

“You know,” I hiss, gripping his perfect cock tightly while wetting my lips, “you really shouldn’t piss a girl off and then puther in a position that makes you so vulnerable.” I bite his head lightly as his eyes flare with satisfaction.

“Why do you think I do it?” He taunts, tracing my lips with the head of his cock.

“Think I can’t make it hurt?” I suck in his head and bite a little harder before licking his crown, just before he thrusts it past my open lips, forcing me to take some of his girth in.

“Less talk, more sucking, Serena. There’s only one way I want to deal with your mouth today, and it’s not for conversation.” I take in a little more and smirking, he grips my face, thrusting in deep and gagging me.

“Better,” he smarts sarcastically as I start to deep-throat him. Hollowing my cheeks, I go all in, swallowing and sucking while pulling on his sac.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, running his fingers around my lips, reveling in the sight of me, utterly turned on and submissive.

“Fuck, baby, looks like there’s going to be a happy ending foroneof us.”

I pop him out of my mouth instantly, even as I stroke him. “Don’t you dare—”

“Don’t what?” He grips my upper arms, easily lifting me to stand. “Don’t tease you to the point you’re fucking losing your mind?” He places my hands on the lid of the toilet, so my ass is up in the air, purposely pushing me forward so I’m on my toes. Thighs burning, he lines himself up with me as we glare at each other in the mirror.

“Don’t make promises with your mouth you won’t back up? Now you know I never do that.” Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. “Take it, Brat.”

He drives home for emphasis as we both go feral, our moans and grunts echoing through the small space as he brings me to fast orgasm, and I succumb, silencing myself just enough sowe’re not too obvious but loud enough that his eyes fire with victory.

“Once again, Serena, you learn the hard way,” he taunts, thrusting into me furiously until I’m certain I’ll feel him, feel this, for days to come.

“Come inside me, Thatch,” I order, needing him, all of him. Wanting the pain, memorizing the look on his face—which is etched in ecstasy—as he quickens his thrusts to an unreal pace before he lets out a long groan, bordering growl, spilling into me. His orgasm tips me over into another, and his eyes fire in satisfaction as he milks it from me.

“Mmm,” he utters, watching me so carefully in the mirror that I know he’s marking this memory too. It’s when he pulls out, watching his cum spill out appreciatively before pushing it back in, that I turn and snatch his neck, crushing our mouths together. Refusing that this stolen time is over along with me, Thatch’s return kiss is just as fiery, just as full of need. When he pulls away, his lips turn up as he palms my face. “I fucking love you, Brat. Always.”

I grip his hardening cock in my hand and waste no time spouting my order.

“You too, but I don’t want conversation. On the mat, now, and once I suck you hard, don’t you fucking dare hold back.”

Within a minute or two, he’s palming my thigh up on the floor and thrusting back into me. Not long after, we’re both palming my mouth.

Wrapped in Thatch and sated sometime later, we stare at one another as if with fresh eyes. The film of the years between us seems to have cleared as we run our hands over one another’s skin. I can’t stop looking at him, my husband. It’s like his presence is new, even if I sleep next to him every night. Years ago, we had this sort of reconnect, but this ... feels different, and I say as much.

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