About twenty minutes after Cassie had thrown the positive pregnancy test at my head, my whole world had changed. Not in the obvious sense or the way I behaved, but in the way my mind prioritized tasks for the day. Number one had been forever and irreparably changed to Keep Cassie and our baby safe.
It wasn’t a conscious choice. It was an absolute. A rule that not only wouldn’t but couldn’t be broken.
“Earth to Thatcher,” Cassie called, waving a hand in front of my face. Internally, I cringed at the fact I’d taken a nice little detour into Worryville again. Unfortunately, I’d become a frequent visitor, unable to deviate from the track that led me there. Somehow, though, I’d managed to mask my worry with something else in front of Cassie. I wasn’t sure exactly how it came across—probably as stupidity—but she seemed comfortable with whatever front I managed to put on.
“I know I acted like I didn’t want to bone, but that’s our thing. I cry wolf about not wanting any pussy pleasure, and you steamroll me all the way into the bedroom, tongue my pussy for a few minutes, and then get down to business. You’re supposed to have your dick in me by now, for fuck’s sake.”
As always, she brought me right out of my head and into the room—onto the very couch where she sat, where I could smell the citrus on her skin. She was too goddamn entertaining for any moment spent with her to be unpleasant. I laughed. “I don’t know, honey. Is that how it feels to you? Because your rundown isn’t making me feel like I’m doing a good job of being memorable.”
Her snap was like the lash of a whip. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I tried not to smile bigger, but it was a real fucking challenge.
“I tongue your pussy for a few minutes?” I asked, and then bit my lip when fire flamed in her eyes. “Is that really the best description you can come up with for it?”
“I’m trying to hurry through this talking bullshit—”
I ignored her, reaching for her across the couch, picking her up with two hands on her ass and settling her on my lap, straddling me, her perfect pussy cradled directly on my already hard dick.
“If that’s what you think,” I told her quietly. “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”
Her nipples hardened right before my eyes.
Goddamn, I love her tits.
“Ooh,” she cooed. “Sexy professor and naughty student?”
I shook my head with a smile and then nipped at the skin below her ear, the roar of blood in my own ears drowning out the background noise of the TV.
“Private tutor and—” she started, but I pushed my lips to hers before she could finish.
“No, baby,” I said softly. “This one is all Thatch and Cassie.”
She squeaked as I rose to my feet, keeping my hands at her ass and her up with me. She clung to my shoulders and shoved her tits toward me in invitation.
An invitation there was not one fucking single inkling of a chance I would deny.
“Get rid of the shirt,” I ordered, and she didn’t delay. Up and over her head, she pulled it off, confident in my ability to hold her in my arms.
My lips closed around the pink of her nipple as soon as the soft cotton of her T-shirt cleared it.
As her head fell back and her hands clamped tight around my neck, I moved one of my hands to the middle of her back for extra support.
Cassie hardly ever had inhibitions, but when we came together like this, what few she had vanished instantaneously. Moaning and gasping, she tried to get her body closer to mine, to climb right inside me, and her tits were leading the way.
Jesus, when she pushed herself farther into my mouth like that, it was a struggle not to fucking eat her alive.
“Oh, God,” she groaned, rubbing herself against me as I quickened my step. The sounds of her pleasure were like a telegraph to my dick: Things are speeding up. We need you, General. Get here and provide internal support as quickly as possible.
Her back hit the bed softly as a mewl of protest escaped her lips. I hadn’t followed her down, instead standing tall to pull my shirt over my head and shove my shorts and boxer briefs to the ground. She didn’t have much clothing left—a tiny pair of boy short underwear the only thing she’d put on her bottom half after her earlier shower.
I caught sight of her packed bag in the corner as I dropped to my knees. The bag indicated that I was down to just hours before she left again for work. But I put that out of my mind and concentrated on pulling Cassie’s boy shorts down with my teeth.
She pushed up onto her elbows on the bed and watched me as I did.
“Are you going to tongue my pussy?” she teased, and the lilt of her provocation lit up my world. No one made me happier than she did, and punishing her for her smartass remarks with a silent drag of my tongue would never ever get old.
I did just that, trailing it up from ass to clit and watching her eyes roll back in her head. Her long eyelashes seemed to sparkle as she fluttered and squeezed, alternating between the two reactions because what she was feeling was too overwhelming for just one.
“Son of a motherfluffing monkey biscuit,” she gritted out through a moan, and I laughed.
I’d been teasing her about cleaning up her language, something she obviously had plenty of time to do given gestation time and then the delay in our baby’s ability to cogitate. Even if our daughter was a little baby genius, which she was obviously likely to be, we were looking at a solid eighteen months. Still, Cassie had taken it at least a little to heart—she still cursed up a storm, but there was effort there—and it made me want her more.
It was these little hidden morsels of her that no one else saw or understood that augmented my love to the point of madness. She was so much more than most people knew, and many of her secrets were only for me. When she was selfish now, it wasn’t just for herself—it was for her, me, and the little peanut-sized baby we’d created.
I closed my eyes and breathed her in. Her spunk, her smell, her goddamn unbelievably addictive taste…all of it overwhelmed me as I licked her, alternating between fucking her pussy with my tongue and flicking at the sensitive bud above it in varying rhythms. She writhed, but I held her legs open with a clench of my fingertips on her thighs.
You’re not going anywhere, honey.
“Thatch,” she cried out urgently, but I knew she wasn’t coming yet.
This was another one of her games, one that made me smile into her pussy and lick her harder. She was close to orgasm, so close that she started to feel like my tongue wasn’t enough, like she needed my dick more than the air she needed to breathe. But still eager for at least a little control, she didn’t want to ask me for it. She wanted me to be the one who gave in, the one who couldn’t take any more, and she’d learned if she pretended she was there, I might think she was too.
It was complicated and deliberate, but it was also completely subconscious. Her mind was powerful when she knew what she wanted, so much so that she could convince her body to play the part no matter how much it might argue.
“Good try, honey,” I told her on a ragged whisper. “You come on my tongue first, and you do it right fucking now.”
The muscles in her thighs tensed, turning to sexy, sweaty rock under my fingertips as she finally gave in to my command and all the evidence of her excitement flooded my mouth in a rush. I sucked it up, lapping and drinking until I couldn’t take it anymore—until I nearly came into empty air.