by Max Monroe
The sound of ragged air overwhelmed the space for several long moments.
Once we caught our breath, Thatch lay back on the bed, stretching out and maneuvering my body so that I was sprawled across his chest.
Holy hell. I was convinced this man had the stamina of a fucking superhero. Every past sexual experience paled in comparison to the workout he had given me. I had been fucked in every position possible. I glanced at the clock, and my eyes nearly bugged out. For three hours straight, my body had been flipped, turned, and sexed on just about every surface of his apartment.
He had taken me slow and deep in his bed. Rough and quick against the tile wall of his shower. Spread out across his kitchen table, where he literally ate me for breakfast.
He’d even fucked me against the terrace doors, with the sounds of the city below us.
But he’d brought it home in his bed, and goddamn, I had to admire the confidence it took to bring me there, to the scene of the crime, after putting me through the paces for hours on end. But then, maybe proving he could do it was the whole point.
His fingers ran through my damp hair. “You still awake, honey?” he asked with a hint of amusement.
I rested my chin on his chest and gazed into his big, brown eyes. “As a matter of fact, I am.” The corners of his mouth nearly touched his ears. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself right now.”
“Oh, believe me, I am. You were offering up some pretty sweet declarations of love for my cock.”
I shook my head in denial. “I can’t be held accountable for anything I say during sex.”
But he was right. I had pretty much waxed poetic for his penis. At one point, I’d told him I was going to buy a bigger purse so I could carry it around with me all day, every day. Even announced that I would find a new TSA-approved carry-on for air travel.
Honestly, I don’t normally have the urge to carry dudes’ dicks around in my bag.
But in my defense, Thatch is a fucking fantasy in the sack.
His good points?
1. Insatiable endurance.
2. Sexy as fuck body.
3. Huge and thick schlong.
4. Delicious dirty-talker.
5. His PhD in oral.
See what I mean?
You’d be trolling Amazon for a dick carry-on too.
“It was definitely the first time someone has offered to carry my dick in a bouquet as they walked down the aisle. Honestly, I’m flattered,” he teased.
I shrugged. “Well, he does send me flowers. I’d say it’s a normal progression for him to become the flowers.”
And motivate you to marry him, my pussy screamed.
Whoa. Slow down there, Pussy Promiser.
He chuckled in response, causing his chest to vibrate against mine.
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling and laughing along with him. Hands down, Thatch had the best laugh. It was husky and deep and downright infectious.
To his core, he was a happy, carefree guy. He went with the flow, and most importantly, he enjoyed his life. He wasn’t the type of man who would spend his weekends holed up in his apartment. No. Thatch lived. He experienced. He was more alive than anyone I had ever met.
He was a bright light I wanted to reach out and catch in my hands.
And I found myself craving more of him—his laughter, his smiles, his stupid winks, and witty retorts. I couldn’t deny that I genuinely wanted to get lost in all of it.
He tapped my nose with his index finger. “You know, when you’re not going narcoleptic after getting off, you’re a bit wild, honey.”
I quirked a brow. “A bit wild?”
“Real fucking wild.” He smirked and pressed a flirty kiss to my mouth. “I’m a fan of your brand of wild,” his whispered against my lips.
“I’m a fan of your stamina.”
“And my cock,” he added, and one of his signature winks followed suit.
I laughed. “Yeah, that too.”
“Rule number ten,” he announced. “Don’t hold back your girlish giggles.”
At some point, we’d started a list of ridiculous roommate rules. Most of them were so outlandish, I had to keep a list in the notes on my phone to remember what they were.
I know I’d be fucking curious if I were you.
Here’s the rundown of The Rules of Thatch & Cass thus far.
#1. If someone forgets to run the dishwasher, they have to walk around the apartment shirtless for one hour.
#2. Thatch is always the big spoon in bed.
#3. Cassie isn’t allowed to go to strip clubs without Thatch. Ever.
#4. Never delete an episode of America’s Next Top Model before Thatch sees it. (See Rule #1’s punishment, but add stilettos and Cass reenacting the episode in her underwear.)
#5. Thatch has to watch a Lifetime movie with Cass once a week.
#6. Cass isn’t allowed to drink diet soda. Only regular.
#7. Thatch isn’t allowed to mention ice cream unless it’s in the freezer. Otherwise, consider himself dick slapped.
#8. Cass has to hit a minimum daily word count of fifteen fucks in front of Thatch.
#9. Pinkie promises aren’t for pussies. If you hook that finger, it’s as good as a blood oath, but less messy.
And now, Rule #10. Cass can’t hide her girlish giggle.
I rolled my eyes. “I do not giggle.”
“Yeah, honey, you do.” He nodded slowly. “Not often, but you do.”
I groaned and buried my face in his chest.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I love seeing tough as nails Cassie all girly and soft.”
My eyes met his again. “I’m not embarrassed. I’m annoyed. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, so you blush when you get annoyed? My bad,” he teased.
“I’m not blushing!” I smacked his chest.
“Ow. Fuck,” he responded through a laugh as he flipped me onto my back before I could stop him. His hands held my arms above my head as his mouth brushed across my lips. “Spend the day with me today,” he demanded, his eyes gazing into mine.
“Pretty sure I’ve been spending the day letting you fuck me senseless.”
He smirked. “Yeah, but I want you to actually spend the whole day with me. No last-minute shoots for you. No work meetings for me. Just me and you, fucking and laughing and occasionally taking breaks for food.”
“I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”
I smiled. “Okay. Count me in.”
“Fantastic.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Now, Mistress Cassie, I need to order us some lunch.” He hopped off the bed and tossed on a pair of boxer briefs. “Anything in particular sound good?” he asked as he moved toward the doorway.
“Rule number eleven,” I called from my comfortable position on the bed. “Don’t lose your stamina.”
He stopped and turned toward me. His eyes glinted with amusement. “My stamina?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Don’t lose that. Ever.”
Thatch’s answering smile was as wide as Texas. “Oh, honey, as long as you’re around, I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”
“What’s wrong with all these people? Don’t they have lives?” Cassie asked as we weaved through a predictably crowded Times Square.
I chuckled and pulled her closer to my side as the space on the sidewalk around us closed up. “Yes, they do. Believe it or not, this is actually the sight of them living them.”
We’d stayed holed up in the apartment for most of the day and evening. I knew more about her body than I’d ever known about anyone’s other than my own. One-night stands weren’t exactly about the details, and I’d been too young and horny to ever pay attention to anything specific about Margo. My brilliant thoughts had pretty much ended at I like it.
Now we were out, and I was on a mission to fulfill my urge to let her know me. I’d never felt this motivated.
I smiled at the irony that they weren’t “going” at all and tightened my hold on her hand, pulling her away from the confrontation with an Asian tourist and into motion through the crowd. We were only a block away at this point, the distinct neon of Fu-Get-About-Ink catching the attention of my trained eyes despite its proximity to all the other flash and flare of Times Square, but with the lead weight of my companion on my arm, it was liable to take us years to get there.
Even that thought didn’t make me feel the need to rush. I had what I really needed beside me.
“Sweet fucking cocksuckers, I thought I got annoyed in Chelsea, but I’d mate with that place over Times Square.”
“It’s not that bad,” I replied, smiling the whole time and tugging gently on her hand when she slowed to shoot a glare at some innocent children.
“Not that bad?” she shrieked. “It’s like the seventh circle of hell.”
“Well, then, just be glad it’s not the eighth,” I teased.
“What the hell were you guys thinking, putting your business this close to Times Square?”
I laughed. “Uh, that we wanted to make money?”
“From the bottom of my gold-digging soul, I never thought I’d feel this way, but don’t you have enough money?”
“It’s mostly Frankie’s money,” I lied. Technically, I had fifty-one percent ownership.
“I don’t know if I can deal with this,” she went on. Her face was set into the opposite of relaxed.
I pulled her to an abrupt stop, knowing I couldn’t wait another minute.
Twisted like the front section of her hair, I found myself fucking attracted to all the things by which I should only be put off.
She started to grumble at first, but the ability to speak quickly left her as I pushed her back against the nearest building and skimmed my lips against the warm, pink skin of hers. “If you don’t want my tongue in your mouth, you better say so fast.”
Her eyes had only the time to widen before my tongue traced the seam of her lips and forced their blue ferocity closed. All the air in her lungs left in a rush, traveling from her mouth to mine and straight down the line of my throat and into my chest. I knew it didn’t work like that, the actual air that she breathed out sustaining me—the science of oxygen and carbon dioxide wouldn’t allow it—but, God, in that moment, as her tongue circled the tip of mine, it couldn’t have felt more like it did.
Hands eager, I dove into her hair, tangling the tresses among my fingers until she couldn’t easily pull free. Each flick of her tongue pushed me further, begged me to come closer, and I obliged, overjoyed to make any one of her wishes and desires come true. Her nails dug into the skin of my biceps, scratching noticeably deeper when I pushed her tongue back into her mouth with my own and ate at the corners of her lips with sucking nibbles and slight pinches of my teeth.
At her moan, my dick swelled, and the feeling of getting jostled closer was the only thing that stopped me from running my lips from throat to nipple.
Sweet fuck, her skin tasted like a dream. If I hadn’t spent the entire day in her company, I would have thought she’d showered in the juice of the sweetest fruit. But she’d only taken one shower, and it had been with me.
I pulled away slightly, but she followed, sealing her lips to mine until I was too tall to reach.
“Come on, honey,” I urged gently, running a hand through her tangled hair courtesy of the rough bricks of the building behind her and finishing with a wink. “I’ll give you more of that later.”
Her eyes narrowed, but the tightening of her lids did nothing to lessen the sparkle of arousal in her eyes.
With a tug at her hips, I pulled her off the wall and pushed her in front of me with a hand at her back to guide her.
She glanced back at it in disgust, ever independent, but I didn’t move it an inch. I’d always been a fan of affection, but I liked touching her every opportunity I got in a way that it would take more than a few dirty looks to make me stop.
When we came to a stop in front of the building, I watched as she looked up at the two-story-tall neon sign and stared.
“This is it.”
She nodded. Not in disinterest, and not in a you’re-an-idiot kind of way. No, the fire in her eyes was more proud than passive, and I had the strangest feeling of growth in my chest.
I’d obviously done my fair share in the world of business, but most of it had been born of natural talent rather than interest. This, however, was something that came straight from my heart.
It was Frankie’s livelihood, but it was my home. I felt comfortable here in a way I didn’t really even understand.
But she looked like she did. I wanted desperately to see through a window into her mind.
Maybe then I’d be able to understand if she was feeling all of the things I was feeling.
What started out as a game of pranks and a constant battle of wills had turned into something that didn’t feel superficial at all.
Somewhere along the line, the playbook had changed for me. I didn’t understand the details of how I’d gotten here, and I had no idea if anything had changed for her, but I knew to my soul that I wanted more.
Of her laughter, her attitude, her ability to keep me on my fucking toes—the way she lived her life. I was nearly insatiable for all of it. All of her.
“Come on,” I called, bringing her eyes from their exploration to me. “Let’s go inside.”
The bell over the door rang as we stepped in, and Frankie’s eyes came up from the portrait tattoo he was working on in the open station in the back. We had private rooms too, but when Frankie was working by himself, he stayed up front to keep an eye on things.
He gave an interested nod, seeing as bringing a woman here was pretty much the exact opposite of my normal routine, but then went back to it.
Come to think of it, I’d never brought a woman here. Something about everything it meant to me had stopped me.
I’d never even considered not bringing Cass here tonight.
My eyebrows pinched together involuntarily. I wasn’t quite sure why that was.
“Wow, this place is fantastic!” she spouted, her eyes bouncing from one piece of artwork on the walls to the next. Some of them were mine, but I wasn’t quite ready to tell her that yet.
“Yeah?”
She nodded enthusiastically and hiked herself to sitting up on the counter. I smiled at her no-cares attitude. No one else I’d ever met would blatantly jump up on the counter of a business without permission.
Her gaze moved around, but when it came back to me, her face was reminiscent. “I actually thought about opening my own photography studio when I was younger, but Georgia talked me out of it.”
I stepped forward and pulled her legs apart to stand between them. “Why’s that? A studio sounds cool.”
She laughed and shrugged before rolling her eyes. “It probably had something to do with the fact that I wanted to call it Let Me Shoot Your Kids.”
Frankie and I laughed. Cass and I both turned to look at him now that we knew he was listening. His green eyes sparkled, but he feigned concentration on his work.
“What about you? A tattoo parlor and a… Jesus, what do you do?”
I shook my head and smiled. “A financial consultant.”
“That means next to nothing to me. I’m assuming there are numbers and money involved?”
“Am I like the Chandler Bing of the group? No one knows what I do?”
She shrugged shamelessly. “At least you’re taller.”
“Oh yeah, thank God I’m taller,” I joked.
“So how’d your business portfolio become so diversified?” She bounced her brows as if to say, See, I can speak work jargon.
“Well, I went to college with the idea that I needed to do something respectable.”
“An interesting concept for you,” she teased.
I pushed forward as though she hadn’t spoken, but I smiled and squeezed at her bare thighs.
Fuck, her skin was like quicksand. I could get lost in it for hours. I shook my head slightly to bring back my concentration.
“And, well, it turned out I was really good at it. Kind of a savant with numbers.”
“An idiot savant,” she said with a smile.
“Right,” I agreed.
“It’s starting to make more sense now,” she said and smiled, but I didn’t take the bait.
“Once I started to make a lot of money, I got bored.”
She shook her head and swung her legs at my sides. “Oh, man, that sounds familiar.”
“You too?” I asked to which she answered earnestly, “Always.”
“Well, I had the cash to invest in things I was interested in. A lot of property and small businesses trying to get off the ground, that kind of thing.”
“So you opened this.”
“Nope,” I corrected with a smile. “Frankie opened this place. I just stepped in as an investor about four years ago.”
“You’re obviously more than a silent partner, though.”
I shrugged. “I liked it. And Frankie liked having the help.”
“Sure did!” Frankie yelled from the back, again confirming shamelessly that he was listening to every word we said.
Cassie smiled, lips and eyes and the apples of her cheeks all falling victim to her amusement as her hair flipped effortlessly over her shoulder. She pushed me back slightly so she could tuck her foot under her ass and leaned onto her hand, and I couldn’t help but notice that she looked comfortable here.
“Get us some fucking food, T!” Frankie called from his station.
Cassie joined in enthusiastically. “Seriously! And make it a pizza, pineapple and ham.”
“I don’t get a say in this?”
The two of them glanced briefly to one another before turning back to me and speaking in unison. “No.”
-->
