Taking the Plunge

by E. L. Todd

  “Nancy, there’s something I want to give you. I really hope you accept it.”

  Her skin prickled at his words. She didn’t know what he planned.

  He pushed his chair back then picked up something under the table. It was a wrapped painting. She could tell by the size and the weight. She took it from him, a smile on her face. She was honored he painted something for her, something that was specifically made for her to keep.

  Nancy pulled the paper off then looked at the painting. Her eyes bubbled with tears when she looked at the picture. It wasn’t something he specifically made for her. It was an image she had seen before. Now she understood why he assumed she would refused the gift. “Thatcher…”

  “I want you to have it, Nancy.”

  She shook her head as she looked the painting. “But it’s so important to you.”

  “Which is why I’m giving it to you.”

  The sight of the majestic waves crashing against the rocks, the gray clouds in the distance, the overwhelming grief of the image made a tear fall down her face. “But you wouldn’t even sell it. It means so much to you. It’s—for your dad.”

  He reached across the table and touched her hand with his. “Nancy, you mean the world to me. This is something so personal and emotional to me. I want to share it with you. Please accept it.”

  She looked at him. “This is the most amazing gift I’ve ever received.”

  “I knew you would appreciate it.”

  She placed the painting on the table then came to his lap, sitting on him. Nancy kissed him gently, letting a tear fall on his face while their lips touched. His hands gripped her waist, massaging her lips with his own. She broke their kiss and pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes. His hand moved to her face and held it there, keeping his eyes closed as he shared the moment with her. Her emotions seeped through her skin, being collected by Thatcher as he held her tightly.

  “Thank you for giving me this moment,” he whispered. “I’ll never forget it.”

  She opened her eyes and looked into his. “Nor will I.”

  They held each other for a long time until Thatcher slid his hand down her arm.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.”

  She left his lap and he grabbed the painting, holding her hand as they walked back to their room. When they stood in the elevator, Nancy kept thinking about what would happen when they returned to the room. She had been waiting for this moment, but now that it was finally here, she was nervous.

  Thatcher unlocked the door and let her step inside first. The room was lighted with white candles. There were at least a hundred scattered around the room. Rose pedals were on the bed, white and red.

  Thatcher came behind her and grabbed her waist, his lips close to the back of her neck. He breathed on her for a moment before he pulled her back into his chest. His lips pressed against her skin, lightly touching her. The innocent embrace already made her skin burn like glowing embers. His hands felt the fabric of her dress, touching it with his fingertips. His hand moved to the back of her dress then undid the zipper. When it fell to the floor, her heart raced.

  Thatcher glided his hands down her back, touching her petite shoulders and her small waist. His heavy breaths fell on her the entire time, heating her skin. His lips reached to her ear and kissed her gently, the smacking noise making her spine shiver. Unable to wait another moment, she turned around, letting him look at her.

  He stared at her body, his hands reaching for her waist. He pulled her closer, his lips moving to her neck and her shoulder. When he pulled away, he looked into her eyes as he rubbed his nose against hers. Nancy felt her heart race in her chest. Thatcher looked so handsome while he stared at her, his loving look making her shake. She never felt more heated or excited as she did now. The end of the wick had been lit and she was waiting for it to explode.

  Thatcher moved his hands down her chest, caressing her breasts for a moment before he moved down to her thong. He felt the fabric in his fingers before he pulled them down, kneeling before her. She stepped out of it, afraid the pooling liquid between her legs would drip on the floor.

  When he came back to his feet, she grabbed his jacket and pulled it off his shoulders, looking into his eyes as he slid if off. Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt then removed the tie. When he was shirtless, she kissed his neck, making him moan, then trailed her kisses across his shoulder and to his chest. Her fingers grabbed his slacks and unbuttoned them, slipping them off his hips. When he was just in his briefs, she kneeled before him and pressed her lips against the fabric that covered his bulge. Thatcher moaned again while he watched her. She grabbed the rim and pulled them off, leaving him standing before her completely naked.

  She rose to her feet and looked at him, marveling at the perfect carvings of his flesh. His chest was outlined with muscles and his waist was tight and defined. She ran her fingers down his stomach while she gazed at his hard cock. It was longer than she had ever taken. She hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.

  Thatcher stared at her for a long time, his eyes saying everything his lips weren’t. When she looked into them, she saw everything she had been missing. Her mom abandoned her, leaving her unwanted and unloved, then her father took care of her out of duty, not desire. Thatcher was the first person to make her feel appreciated and adored, other than her friends. She slept around with guys just so she could feel connected to someone, to feel something other than loneliness. He chased all of her fears away, making her feel safe and treasured. Everything Thatcher said the previous week was right. It was enough to break her soul, to realize she found what she’d been missing her whole life.

  He stepped toward her then pressed his face close to hers. His nose brushed against hers until their lips touched. His mouth didn’t move for a second, but then he caressed her lips, his hand placed on the back of her head. He pulled her into him, deepening the kiss. Her hands grabbed him, pulling him closer to her. Her fingers touched the muscles of his back, feeling their strength and prominence. She felt safe and protected when he was near her, that nothing would ever hurt her.

  Thatcher guided her to the bed, still kissing her. When she felt the foot of the bed behind her knees, he picked her up then laid her down while he moved with her. She felt weightless in his arms, like she was as thin as a feather. Her head landed on the pillow and she looked up at him, seeing the blue eyes she loved to gaze at. Thatcher leaned down and kissed her forehead for a long moment, making the tears burn behind her eyes. When he pulled away, he grabbed her hips and lifted her slightly. He leaned over her, putting all of his weight on his arms then stared into her eyes as his cock pressed against her. With one hand, he guided his tip to her entrance. When he found it, he positioned himself over her.

  Nancy gripped his back while she waited in anticipation. She wanted to feel him stretch her, move deep inside her. She could only imagine how good he would feel.

  His eyes never left hers as she slowly made the plunge.

  Her lips parted as she released a quiet gasp.

  Thatcher moved deeper, stretching her further as he went. He looked into her eyes, checking for pain or discomfort.

  Nancy moved her hand to his lower back and pulled him toward her, encouraging him to do deeper.

  When he moved entirely inside her, she grabbed the back of his neck, breathing deeply.

  Thatcher kissed her gently without moving, just sitting inside her. His kiss was delicate, massaging her mouth with his lips. He breathed into her lungs, connecting with her in an undeniable way. His face still pressed close to hers, he moved inside her.

  “Thatcher,” she whispered, her fingers running through his hair. The stretching of her body felt better than it ever had before. He was big, but the perfect size. Every thrust made her crumble into pieces, breaking her apart. Even though he moved slowly, she felt the ecstasy begin between her legs.

  He looked down at her as he rocked into her, l
ooking into her eyes. He brushed his lips against her as he moved, sometimes kissing her, and she felt the emotion release from her heart, dripping everywhere. Never in her life had she felt loved like this. He wasn’t only the first man to tell her he loved her, but he was the first person to show it. Her eyes bubbled with tears and one escaped.

  Thatcher didn’t stop moving. He leaned down and kissed her tear away. When he pulled away, she saw the coat of tears in his own eyes. They didn’t fall but they were there, forming under the surface.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and let the emotion pass. Now she was where she belonged and with the man she belonged with, at least for this moment in time. Whether their relationship lasted or not, the future couldn’t erase the past. This moment was real and it would be forever real for the rest of her life. She had touched someone else’s soul and they touched hers. She loved someone with her whole heart and she felt that love in return.

  25

  When she woke up the next morning, Thatcher was still asleep, which was unusual. Normally, he was up as soon as the sun crested the horizon. She turned on her side and stared at him, seeing the small hairs that covered his chin from not shaving for several days. His chest rose and fell with his even breathing. Last night was a dream. She couldn’t believe it really happened, that she fell in love with someone in such a profound way.

  Soul mates were a myth to her. The idea of everyone having one special person that belonged to them was ludicrous and fantastical. But that belief changed when she met Thatcher. The connection between them couldn’t be explained or justified. It was just there, innate and real. It was natural and unforced. He could read her mind and emotions instantly. There was nothing she could hide from him. For once, not having any privacy was a relief.

  Thatcher sighed then opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling. After blinking a few times, he reached for her, feeling her right next to him. He turned to her, a slight smile on his lips. “Good morning.”

  “And a good morning it is.” She kissed him then snuggled next to him.

  “It’s weird not surfing.”

  She smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time when we get home.”

  “How did you sleep?” he asked.

  “Good.”

  “You aren’t sore?”

  She shook her head. “Definitely not.”

  He grinned. “So, how was it for you?”

  Her hand trailed down his chest. “There are no words, Thatcher.”

  “I’m glad it was everything you wanted.”

  She cupped his face. “Thank you for making me wait.”

  “You deserve nothing but the best.”

  “And I want to do it again.”

  “I like what I’m hearing.”

  “I want to do it—all the time.”

  “I guess I’ll have to work on my stamina.”

  She kissed his chest. “It felt so good, Thatcher. The best I’ve ever had. There’s nothing to even compare it to.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t running from me. That was my worst fear. That you would reject my love because you didn’t think you deserved it.”

  “I could never run from you,” she whispered. She sat up then moved on top of his chest. “In fact, I want to do the opposite right now.” She pulled the blanket down and revealed his morning wood.

  Thatcher’s hair was messy and pushed up from sleeping. He looked sexy and rugged at the same time. His hands moved to her thighs while she sat on top of him. Thatcher grabbed her waist and lifted her up while she grabbed his cock and pointed the tip at her entrance. When she felt the head move inside, she released his shaft and grabbed his shoulders. She slid down his cock slowly, biting her lip to stop from screaming. When he was completely inside her, she enjoyed it for a moment in time.

  Thatcher’s breathing increased and he gripped her waist, his hips thrusting upward slightly. “You look so sexy right now.”

  She lifted up then moved down again, feeling him move entirely inside her. “Oh my god,” she said as he dug her nails into his skin. She moved slowly, letting him move in and out of her. Without much effort, she already felt the orgasm start in her stomach and move down to her center.

  Thatcher separated legs then lifted himself slightly, thrusting into her from below. He went slow, not wanting to push too much, too fast. She leaned over him and rocked into him, her breasts in his face. He removed one hand from her hip and gripped her tit, still rocking into her. Watching him touch her made her hotter. Thatcher sat up and sucked her nipple, making sucking noises as he kissed her skin.

  “God…yeah,” Nancy said as she watched him.

  He rocked into her harder, pushing her to her limit.

  She pressed her face against his, unable to move, as the orgasm hit her like a hurricane, tearing down her fortifications and leaving her raw and barren. It exploded in her center then burned her clitoris, making her feel tender everywhere. “Yeah…”

  Thatcher leaned back and watched her come while enjoying his body. The sight set off his trigger and he gripped her waist tightly, coming inside her. “Nancy…Nancy.”

  She grabbed his forearms while she watched him, enjoying the redness of his face and chest as he came. His dick throbbed inside her, swelling as it released. The idea of him coming inside her made her moan. The only man who came inside her besides Thatcher was Derek, and it only happened once. She loved knowing a part of him was inside her.

  When he was finished, his hand moved through her hair, pulling it out of her face.

  She sat up and pulled him out of her, immediately missing him.

  Thatcher pulled her to his chest and cuddled with her, burying his face in her neck. “Man, that was good.”

  “You liked it?”

  “I would love to be woken up every morning like that.”

  “We’ll see,” she said with a smile.

  He sat up and kissed her everywhere, his lips trailing across her shoulder and down her back. “We need to get ready.”

  “For what?” she asked sadly. “I want to stay here all day—doing that.”

  “That sounds tempting, but we have other obligations.”

  “Cancel them.”

  He laughed. “Are you forgetting what we came here for?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “We’ll have breakfast then go to the ballroom.”

  “It’s here?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Now I’m really freaking out.”

  “You just need to be confident, Nancy.”

  “Well, that doesn’t come naturally for me.”

  He sighed. “I’ll be there the whole time. When you fall, I’ll catch you. When you don’t know how to respond to a question, I’ll do it for you. But you’ll have to take the reins eventually if this is what you want to do. Being an artist is about expressing yourself. People will challenge your work, ridicule it, and judge it. You need to be prepared for that.”

  “Has anyone every disliked your work?”

  He laughed. “Oh yeah. When I was in Paris, a man threw a bottle of wine at one of my paintings then gave me the bird before he walked off.”

  “What? Was he homeless?

  “No.”

  “Was he drunk?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “What was the painting?”

  “A lemon tree.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it was just because you were American.”

  “Grace said the same thing.”

  “Grace?”

  “The woman I was engaged to.”

  “Oh.” Hearing about her made Nancy uneasy even though she knew it was stupid. She couldn’t help it. Thatcher was so understanding about Derek and she knew he deserved the same consideration and respect.

  Thatcher picked up the phone and ordered room service before he walked in the shower. Nancy returned to bed, taking his pillow because it smelled like him. She sniffed it then closed her eyes, letting reality set in. She got what she always dreamed of. She
had the perfect career and the perfect boyfriend.

  When there was a knock on the door, she answered it and took the cart from the room service attendant. She sat in the kitchen area and poured herself a cup of coffee while she waited for Thatcher to join her. He emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. The sight immediately caught her attention.

  He came to the table and poured himself a cup of coffee, looking down at her. She leaned forward and grabbed his towel.

  Thatcher stared at her, daring her to pull the towel off.

  She smiled at him then tugged it, letting it fall to the ground. His naked body looked even more beautiful than it did last night.

  He shook his head. “You’ll pay for that.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Thatcher sat down and ate his breakfast in the nude. He picked at his fruit and ate a piece of toast while he read the New York Times. She stared across the table at him, more interested by his features than the articles in the paper.

  “You should get ready,” he said.

  She sighed. “Let’s just go back to bed.”

  “The gala won’t last all night…”

  “It better not.”

  He laughed. “You care more about sex than your big night.”

  “My big night was last night.”

  His eyes softened when he looked at her.

  She sighed then went into the bathroom, showering like he asked her to. After she did her hair and makeup, she pulled on the tight pencil skirt, pumps, and white blouse that fit her curves perfectly then looked in the mirror. Thatcher came behind her then placed his hands on her waist. “You’ll sell paintings just from standing there,” he whispered into her ear.

  When she looked at herself, she questioned Thatcher’s attraction to her. Her black hair was long and lustrous, but it wasn’t silky and shiny like Sydney’s. Her breasts were large and noticeable, but they weren’t as perky as Ren’s. Her legs were thin, but they weren’t as toned as she liked. And when she looked at her face, she didn’t see anything she liked. Her eyes were plain and ordinary. Her lips slightly curved but didn’t look desirable. Thatcher was gorgeous compared to her. She didn’t understand his inexplicable need to talk to her that afternoon on the beach. There were so many gorgeous women on the sand, wearing their string bikinis with their flawless skin. She was just wearing shorts and a t-shirt, nothing special.