“Promise me that you’ll ask for help more when you’re out of town. Ask your lazy-ass assistant to help you carry shit, okay? It’s his job to assist you. That includes doing all of the menial shit like carrying your camera bag.”
I tilted my head to the side and stared down at him. “I think you’re being a little flipping dramatic, Thatcher. I mean, I’m not that far along. I’m not even showing at this point.”
He kissed my belly again. “Yeah, but one day you will be showing. I just want you to get used to asking for help. Sometimes you can be a little stubborn about shit like that.” He glanced up at me, and I scrunched my face in annoyance.
God, he was being weird tonight.
“Please, Cass.”
Normally, I wouldn’t have backed down without a little more of a fight, but I could tell by the pleading look in his big brown eyes that this wasn’t something he was taking lightly.
“It’s that important to you?”
“You and our little baby will always be my top priority.”
“Fine, honey. I’ll try to be a lot lazier when I’m on location and make people do more things for me. Hell, maybe I’ll add a cabana boy and a few half-naked men who are scheduled to feed me pickles and fan me with giant leaves every thirty minutes to my rider.”
“Thank you.”
I kissed his forehead and set my plate beside his. I sat down in his lap, and he hissed his approval when his hard cock nestled between my ass cheeks. “I love your seating arrangements for this naked dinner. I think we should go ahead and assign seats for the year.”
“I figured you’d enjoy it.” I grabbed my fork and started to dig into my food.
But Thatch had other plans. His hands grazed the bare skin of my sides until they reached the bottom swells of my breasts and then went back, repeating the maddening circuit until my nipples hardened and my hips started to move of their own accord, shifting and rotating and desperately searching for relief from the constant throbbing ache that had taken up residence below my belly.
His hands gripped my hips, stopping their momentum, and shifting me so that his cock was now snuggled against where I was slick with arousal. I moaned and set my fork down. My fingers clung to the edge of the table as I begged for him to slide inside of me.
“You don’t want to eat first, honey?”
“Unless, by eating, you mean your mouth on my pussy, then no. I don’t want to eat first.”
Thatch’s hand swept across the dining room table, and dishes clanged to the floor in the span of a heartbeat. My back hit the table next, and my thighs were spread and resting on his shoulders a few seconds later.
“Of course, that’s what I meant.” He smirked like the devil. “It’s been four days since I’ve had my mouth on you, and I refuse to let another minute pass without the taste of your pussy on my tongue.”
He buried his face between my thighs at the same time his big hands reached up and caressed my breasts. My back arched off the table when he nipped my clit with his teeth and then sucked the sting better with his hot mouth.
“Oh, fuck.”
“You taste so good, honey.” He moaned against me like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever feasted on. A few rhythmic flicks of his tongue and my climax came so hard, so fast, that I felt dizzy with the insane pleasure that took ahold of all of my senses.
My body was still shaking as he stood between my thighs and drove his cock inside me. When he lifted my legs to rest on his shoulders, the position felt so deliciously intense that I quickly sucked in a breath through my teeth at the tight feel of him filling me.
“You like this, baby?”
“God, yes. It feels so good, Thatch.”
He circled his hips. “I’ll never get tired of how good you feel wrapped around me.” The rhythm of our skin slapping together started out slow and low, and he kept it up until both of us were barely breathing through mismatched, ragged pants and moans were spilling from my lips. He moved his hand between my breasts and down, past my stomach, until his fingers reached the place where our bodies joined. His thumb circled my clit in the same tempo as his hips. I whimpered as I felt myself slowly unravel at the seams.
“Yes, Cass,” he hissed. “You’re so fucking close. I can feel your pussy starting to fist my cock.”
I didn’t need him to tell me I was there to know that I was, and he knew that just as well as I did. But those words spoken harshly, like he was right there too, pushed me even further.
My head fell back onto the table, and my eyes fell closed as my climax built to a point of no return. I cried out as Thatch fucked me harder and faster and filled me so deep I felt like I didn’t know where he ended and I began.
“Fuck,” he shouted and pounded out his release inside of me.
Once our breaths slowed and we both regained the ability for coherent speech, Thatch slid his hands behind my back and pulled me into his arms as he sat back down in the chair behind him.
He held me like that for a long moment, his lips softly kissing my shoulder, my neck, my jaw, and my lips.
“I think we’re going to have to order pizza for naked dinner now,” I whispered into his ear. “No doubt our Chinese food is cold.”
“You know, there’s this thing called a microwave…”
“Shut up, smartass,” I retorted. “And since most of our food is now on the floor, I’m in the mood for pizza instead.”
“Are you in the mood to clean this mess up, too?”
“Hell. No,” I scoffed. “Rule number 235, Thatcher. You make the mess. You clean it up.”
“I thought that rule only applied to cum shots on your stomach.”
I leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please, tell me the last time you actually pulled out.”
His fingers trailed across my slightly rounded lower abdomen and a soft, easy grin consumed his mouth. “It’s been awhile.”
“Yeah. Awhile.” I laughed and tapped him on the nose with my index finger. “You clean. I’ll order pizza.”
“Okay. Fine.” He chuckled. “Wanna take a shower first?”
I nodded and slid out of his lap. “Netflix and pizza in bed?”
“Brilliant plan, honey. Especially if there’s another silent ‘chill’ in there.”
He followed me into our bedroom, and I winked over my shoulder. His answering smile made my knees feel weak.
While Thatch greeted a sleepy Phil, who refused to get up from his bed, I flipped on the shower and set out some towels. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” I called out from the bathroom. “I had to reschedule the shoot in Seattle.”
“When is it now?”
“Saturday.”
“Next Saturday? I thought that was the Mavericks shoot in Phoenix?” he asked and met my gaze in the bathroom mirror. A few weeks ago, Georgia had asked that I join the team on an away game and shoot a pictorial for their new marketing materials. Of course, I’d said yes, even though I knew it was going to add an additional level of traveling hell to my schedule. But I’d be with Georgia and Winnie, flying into Phoenix on the team jet and earning some downtime with the girls when I wasn’t shooting. Silver lining for sure.
“No.” I shook my head and proceeded to brush out the knots in my hair. “This Saturday is Seattle now, next Saturday will be Phoenix.”