It’s pure fucking erotica.
I don’t stop, I continue my exploration, licking into his mouth, kissing him and touching him, until I’m so goddamn hot for him, I can’t take it.
I pull him forward by his dick, and he groans, letting me. When I feel his broad head at my entrance, I open my eyes.
He’s braced himself on his hands and knees. His chest is rising and falling.
Those dark irises of his are speaking to me, full of intensity and so much emotion I wonder if I’m imagining it. If it’s really real.
“It’s real, Baby Girl. Feel this. Feel me,” he growls and drops his weight on me, pressing me into the mattress.
Then he flexes his hips and fills me in one hard, breathtaking thrust.
I keen as he stretches me—he’s just sobig.
And it all starts with one powerful, decisive motion that steals my breath and leaves me arching into him with a broken sound I don’t recognize as my own.
The sensation is overwhelming—full, deep, consuming in a way that makes my head spin.
I cling to him as my body adjusts, every nerve lighting up at once.
He’s everywhere.
Above me.
Around me.
Holding me like he refuses to let go.
He lets out a groan, and it—it’s everything.Low and rough, pulled straight from his chest, and the sound alone sends a shudder through me.
Thatcher McCrae—so strong, so capable, so controlled—shakes just slightly as he braces himself over me.
And that?
That vulnerability is intoxicating.
This isn’t a man taking.
This is a man giving himself over.
His eyes never leave my face, like he’s watching every reaction, every breath, every flicker of feeling—and the attention makes me unravel faster than I thought possible.
I feel powerful.
Desired.
Undone.
And as the moment builds, as sensation coils tight and bright inside me, I realize with startling clarity, I might lose myself just from watching him.
He is so damn sexy.
And I think I might come just watching him.
CHAPTER 25
THATCHER
