Page 206 of Sinful Like Us
Pregnancy rumors are already circulating tabloids.
But the “Omega is fake” rumor is catching fire ten times more, ten times stronger. Entertainmentjournalistshave been theorizing that Jane and I knew each other before I became a bodyguard—and that this wasn’t a shotgun engagement since we’ve been together for years.
I’m concerned about the other men.
SFO has to deal with fans aggressively pairing them off with their client (or ex-client in Donnelly’s case with Beckett). Because the media, fans, the fucking universe seriously believes they’re all real couples and fake bodyguards.
I don’t mention the media to Jane in bed. We’ve talked about tabloids enough.
As I lace her left hand in mine, we stare at one another, drinking each other in, and I say, “You’re going to be my wife.”
Her lips part in arousal.
I slide my large hand from her thigh up underneath her silk top, along the curve of her hip, and against her breast.
She grinds her hips.
I grit down on my teeth, blood rushing through my cock. I harden, and her fingers dig into my shoulder.
“Thatcher,” she murmurs achingly.
My lips a breath from hers, I whisper, “I’m the last man that’ll ever touch you here.” My thumb brushes over her perked nipple.
She gasps against my mouth.
My muscles contract, and with my other hand, I cup her pussy. “I’m the last man that’ll ever be inside you here.”
“Yes,” she moans the word. Temperature cranks in the room to a boiling swelter. I throb as she palms my erection that pushes against my black boxer-briefs.
I’m rock solid.
Her lips quirk. “I’m the last woman to ever touch your cock.”Fuck.Hot breath gathers in the pit of my lungs. Jane stares at me head-on, all confidence blistering inside. I love her. Every last part down to the bottom of her soul.
“Without a fucking doubt. I’m all yours, honey.” Swiftly, with both hands, I scoop Jane up by her gorgeous ass and easily flip her onto her back. Winded by the sudden movement, her chest rises and falls heavily.
I yank off her silk shorts and spread her thighs open with my knee. As I stretch her legs wider, she mutters, “Oh my God.”
I bend down to her ear. Very deeply, I say, “And you’re all mine.”
She pushes my chin back towards her mouth—fuck—and just like that our lips collide. Crashing together in a hungry wave. Rocking against her pussy, friction mounts between us. I lift her ass, pushing her heat up against my hardened length.
She shudders, a high-pitched noise breaking apart her lips.
The room blazes with our knockout passion. Gripping my muscles and senses.
We devour each other. Hands not touching fast enough. Ravenous and primal like being starved for years. Seamlessly, I tuck her to my chest and toss a pillow near the side-edge of the bed.
My kneecaps dig into the mattress, and I lay her down, folding the pillow snug beneath the small of her back. At perfect alignment, I shed my boxer-briefs, and she soaks up my muscular build as I kneel between her spread legs.
“Thatcher,” she whimpers, raising her hips. Bucking into me.
Sweat glistens along my abs and biceps. I clutch the soft flesh of her hips and thrust against her pussy, pink panties obstructing me from her warmth.
“Please,please.” She tilts her head back, hanging slightly off the bed.
“Jane,” I grunt.Fuck.I watch her pull herself up onto her elbows. Higher. Just so her palms can explore every inch of me. Rounding up my ass cheeks.
She pants, her big blue eyes asking,can I?
