I slide her back onto the counter, spin her so her hands brace against it, my body crowding hers in close.
“Thatcher—” she moans.
“Shh,” I murmur against her neck, teeth grazing her skin. “Not everyone’s gone yet. Need you quiet for me.”
My hands fumble at my jeans, urgency making me clumsy.
I shove them down just enough, then hook my fingers into the waistband of her leggings and tug them down her thighs.
I reach between her legs and—fuck.
She’s wet. Soaked. Ready.
My breath leaves me in a rough exhale as my fingers find her heat, proof of what she wants, what she feels for me.
She’s hot and slick and aching for me, and the realization slams into my chest like a vow.
She didn’t leave.
She came back.
And I’m not letting her go.
“Ready?” I growl.
She nods.
And I push inside her.
“Fuck,” I groan.
“Thatcher,” she whimpers.
I close my hand over her mouth, she opens, and I slip two fingers inside.
Her mouth is hot and wet, and my entire body fucking tingles and tightens at the rhythmic pulling as Willow moans, sucking my fingers inside.
I swear my dick gets even harder.
She’s so fucking perfect.
The faint scent of bubblegum surrounds me. And it’s so her.
I need this woman. I want to fill her up until I’m the only thing she sees, feels, smells,is. The same way she fills all my senses.
I want to be to her what she is to me.
“Willow,” I groan and thrust my hips, slamming my hips forward and filling her in one hard push.
She moans around my fingers. Her hands on the counter are flat—keeping balance, and I fucking love the picture she makes like this.
Sexy. Powerful. Submissive.
And all at the same time.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Baby. So fucking perfect. I never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
I don’t even know what the hell I’m saying, but every word is true.
