by Max Monroe
Each slide of his cock felt like it skimmed a live wire inside me. “Oh, fuck.” I gasped into his mouth as a shiver tore down my spine from the building intensity of my climax. The rising intensity so great I feared I’d literally fall to pieces if I let it go completely.
“Don’t hold back, honey,” he demanded, speeding up again to move his hips in raw and greedy drives.
“Thatch. I…” All of the oxygen had been removed from the room, and I couldn’t breathe. “I need…Fuck…I need…” You. I need you so much.
His large palm cupped my cheek as his gaze stayed locked with mine. “I know,” he rasped as if he had heard my silent plea. “I know, honey. Same fucking page. Always.”
I grabbed hold of his hair, trying like hell to anchor myself, but the climax took over and consumed me. He watched with rapt attention, eyes burning. My back arched and my hips lifted toward his, ravenous and frantic for each wave that washed over me. Heat pooled in my core until it spread like wildfire through every nerve, every cell, every fucking molecule of my body.
Each thrust of his hips came faster, harder, deeper, until he lost himself inside me. “Cassie. My Cassie,” he whispered, the sound of my name guttural and penetrating and completely unfiltered. I felt it all the way to my toes.
I sat at the kitchen table, watching Thatch’s toned ass stand in front of my mother’s sink while he helped her wash the dishes from breakfast. He washed. She dried. And they kept up a steady gab session in between.
“Someone’s got it bad,” my father whispered before he took his last sip of coffee and stood up from his seat.
I rolled my eyes but didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
He walked over to my chair and urged me to my feet before enveloping me in a warm hug. The smell of my dad and home and love and my childhood wrapped me up in nostalgia. I returned his embrace and buried my face in his chest. “I missed you, guys,” I whispered.
“I missed you too, baby. Don’t wait so long to come home, okay?”
I nodded into his shoulder.
He leaned back and took me in with an affectionate grin. “It’s hard to believe my little Cassie is all grown up, living her life in New York, and excelling in her career. You make me so proud, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” I returned his smile.
“You know, you look different from the last time I saw you.”
“I do?”
He nodded. “You look happy.”
My brow scrunched in confusion. “I’m always happy, Dad. I have nothing to be sad about in my life.”
He shook his head. “Not like this, baby. This is a different kind of happy,” he said and glanced toward Thatch standing at the kitchen sink. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the reason for those bright eyes or glowing smile.”
I started to respond, but my dad stopped me by pulling me in for another quick hug.
“Risking my heart was the hardest thing I ever did with your mom,” he whispered into my ear. “But it’s the single best decision of my life.” He squeezed my shoulders and then headed for his study.
I stood frozen in my spot until Sean bounded down the hallway and nearly barreled into me.
“Yo, Thatch! You fucking coming or what?” he practically shouted as he sat down on a chair and slipped on his trainers.
“Jesus,” I muttered and slapped him upside the head. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Sean ignored me and tied his laces.
“Are you going now?” Thatch asked as he turned toward us. His eyes bounced like ping-pong balls between me, Sean, and my mom as he wiped his hands off with a dry dish towel.
“Yeah,” my brother answered and stood. “You ready?”
“Wait. Where are you going?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Your boyfriend is coming to the gym with me.”
“Is that okay?” Thatch walked toward me and placed his hands on my hips. “What time is our flight?”
“If you make it back by three, we’ll have plenty of time to get to the airport.”
“How about I’ll get back by one, and I’ll take you to lunch before we leave?” he offered.
My eyes lit up. “Italian?”
He smirked. “Anything you want, honey.”
“Okay. Deal. But go easy on my brother. He’s still recovering from an injury.”
Sean scoffed. “I’m one hundred percent healthy, Cass. Stop being such a fucking mother hen.”
I shot a glare in his direction. “I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to fucking worry about you.”
“That’s e-fucking-nough,” my mother called over her shoulder as she put dishes away. “No bickering on Sundays. Those are the rules.”
Thatch narrowed his eyes. He’d been on to us before, but we’d pretty much dumped the bucket of truth on him now. He glanced between Sean and me and then my mother until his eyes met mine again with a knowing raise of his brow. “The whole no-cursing bit? You were screwing with me, weren’t you?”
I grinned. “Oh, yeah. I was totally fucking with you. My mom sounds like a sailor compared to me.”
He smirked and pointed an accusing finger in my direction. “I’m getting you back for that one, Crazy.”
“I don’t give a—” I said and finished the sentence by scratching the side of my nose with my middle finger.
He laughed and shook his head, before turning toward Sean. “You had an injury?” he asked him.
My brother sighed. “Yeah. ACL. College football. But it’s been a year, and I’ve been training my ass off.”
“He’s going to go pro,” I added.
Thatch’s brows shot up, intrigued.
“Hoping to go pro. Nothing set in stone yet,” Sean chimed in.
“He’ll go pro,” I announced. “He’s that good.”
“He’ll go fucking pro!” my mother added.
Thatch grinned.
Sean rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. He knew better. When Momma Diane says you’re going to fucking do something, you’ll do it.
My brother would have been drafted into the NFL had he not gotten injured at the end of his junior year. But he had been training his ass off for the past year, and I was more than confident he’d get there. His talent wasn’t something you could teach. It was ingrained in him. And one day soon, he’d achieve his dream of playing professional football.
“All right, let’s get a move on it,” my brother said as he grabbed his keys, wallet, and cell phone from the kitchen counter. “It’s leg day, and I’ve gotta get at least two hours of weights in before cardio.”
Thatch pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Be fucking good while I’m gone, Crazy,” he whispered into my ear before heading upstairs to my bedroom to change his clothes.
My mother’s gaze met mine—after I’d thoroughly exhausted the watch on Thatch’s retreat—and she held up her watering can and gestured for me to follow her out onto the back deck.
While she watered her potted plants, I stared at the breathtaking view of clear skies and mountains. I would never get tired of this view or the fresh Oregon air. It all felt worlds away from the cluttered, noisy streets of New York.
“I really like Thatch,” my mother announced as she moved from her roses to her lilies. “I think he’s good for you.”
“But what if I’m not good for him?”
She turned toward me and searched my eyes. “What do you mean not good for him?”
“I don’t know.” I plopped down onto one of the deck chairs and let out a long sigh. “It’s just that I’ve never been very good at committing to things. Have I always been this way?”
“You’ve always been pretty spontaneous,” she answered. “But I wouldn’t say you’re bad at commitment.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mom,” I scoffed. “Don’t blow smoke up my ass. Remember fifth grade when I wanted to try the piano?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes. You only lasted one month.”
�
��And then gymnastics? How long did I last with that?”
“Three weeks,” she answered.
“There’s at least ten more hobbies we could add to that list, and we haven’t even started on my lack of relationship history. I’m starting to think there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I’m lacking some kind of gene.”
“Sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with you,” she disagreed.
“Yes, there is. I’m flighty and flaky.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re a little flighty when it comes to things you’re not really into, but I think you’re selling yourself short, Cassie. I’ve seen you when you really want something, really love something, and there’s no stopping you. You commit yourself one hundred and ten percent.”
“Like when?”
“Photography,” she responded without a second thought. “You wanted it, and look at you now,” she pointed out. “You have a highly successful photography career that most people would kill for.”
“Yeah, but I think photography is different, Mom. That’s my career, not my love life.”
“I don’t think it’s different, baby. I think when you meet the man you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with, it’ll be like photography all over again, but more intense, more all-consuming. You’ll want to spend more time with him. You won’t be able to stop yourself from picturing a future with him.”
“Is that how it was with Dad?”
She set her watering can down and leaned her hip against the deck railing. “I just knew with him. To my fucking soul, I knew I didn’t want to live a life without him in it,” she said with a wistful smile. “So don’t be so hard on yourself. Thatch will be one lucky bastard if he ends up being that person for you. You’re beautiful, kind, funny, and have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever seen. Don’t ever forget that.”
I want to be good for Thatch, and I want him to be that person for me.
In that moment, I was really hoping Momma Diane was right.
Sirens rang out loud and shrill as fire trucks forced their way through jam-packed Midtown traffic.
On the way to Wes’s office to go over some of the players he was hoping to draft and the kind of money he’d have to put into their contracts, I looked down a 7th Avenue that seemed to have no end.
Cars and people and streetlights as far as the eye could see cluttered the space between the two rows of buildings. My height afforded me better vision than most, though, and as a shorter woman swam her way upstream through the crowd in front of me, I found myself picturing how different the city might look from Cassie’s perspective. She wasn’t short, so to speak, but she still came in nearly a foot below me and certainly wouldn’t be taller than most New York men.
I really couldn’t imagine it. I’d been tall since the end of high school, all of my childhood fluff disappearing in one distinct vertical burst. I’d never walked these streets as anything other than huge, and as I passed one of the many people of “questionable sanity” peppering the way through the city, my reverie took on an entirely different angle.
Did Cass ever feel unsafe here, or with her rough and tough exterior did she feel some kind of false sense of exemption? And more importantly, was she always responsible with her personal safety, or did she take it lightly?
As I approached the front of Wes’s office building just up the block from his restaurant, BAD, I nearly came out of my skin over the fact that I didn’t know the answer.
Me: Rule #55: You start carrying Mace with you every-fucking-where you go.
Cassie: Is this some kind of new fetish where I spray you in the face and lick your balls at the same time? I’ve heard of spicing things up, but most couples don’t need it this early.
Me: Don’t be cute.
Cassie: Fuck, Thatcher. That’s like telling me not to breathe or eat nachos. I just can’t stop doing any of it.
I shook my head and smiled. I’d have to remember to pick up nachos on the way home tonight.
Me: Just…I was just thinking about how vulnerable a woman can be in the city.
Cassie: I carry a switchblade between my tits.
Me: Now, I know that’s not true. It’d never stay put.
Cassie: Actually, my tits are pretty hospitable.
Me: I fucking bet they are. Are they going to offer me a drink later? ;)
Cassie: Gross. And don’t ever use a wink emoji again. Text messages are the only place I know I can escape your fucking wink.
Me: Is that an official rule?
Cassie: YES. Consider it #56.
Me: So you accept #55?
Cassie: Sure. I’ve always wanted to pepper spray somebody anyway.
Me: Jesus. Don’t just go spraying random people.
Cassie: They won’t be completely random. Just people that piss me off.
Me: Fuck. The Mace is just gonna get you in even more trouble, isn’t it?
Cassie: Only time will tell, Thatcher.
Only when someone bumped me from behind did I remember I wasn’t alone with her. All the sounds of the city came back immediately, finally penetrating the barrier her witty comebacks had formed around me. After getting back from Vegas and her parents’ house a couple of days ago, it was starting to happen all the time.
I shook my head and dropped my phone back into the front pocket of my slacks before stepping up to the door of Wes’s building and holding it open for a woman on her way out. Hair slicked back in a sleek ponytail and wearing skintight head to knee black, she smiled up at me from under her lashes and did a spin as she stepped past me so she could keep eye contact.
On more than one occasion that kind of move had led to dinner and horizontal dancing, but today, all I cared to exchange was a friendly smile. She raised a brow as if to ask me if I was sure, but it didn’t slow her down. All in one move, she kept up her momentum, circling right back to her path and catwalking directly away from me.
I didn’t even wait to watch her go.
“Hey, Mr. Kelly,” one of the security guards greeted me. I wasn’t at Mavericks headquarters a ton, but I’d definitely been there before, and Sam and I had a running commentary on Yankees baseball.
“Hey, Sam. You see the game two nights ago?”
“Nah, man. I had to work the night shift at my other job. I heard Rodriguez nailed that shit in the bottom of the ninth with the bases loaded, though. Saved our asses.”
I just nodded as I strolled past him, past the elevators, and straight to the stairwell door.
The Mavericks were only on the fourth floor, so I didn’t mind making the climb in my suit. And with the amount that I’d been sitting around my apartment with Cassie and eating, I needed to get in a little exercise.
The receptionist’s head jerked up as I pushed open the stairwell door into the entry in front of the Mavericks offices, but the surprise on her face melted into a smile when she saw it was me.
She looked at me like she knew the dimensions of my cock, but I’d always been careful to keep that shit separate. I never slept with anyone my circle of friends worked with. I flirted with them, which was probably what had Susie’s toothy smile making a bid to eat up her entire face, but I never actually messed around.
“Susie,” I greeted as I approached her desk with a smile.
Her porcelain cheeks flushed pink. “Hi, Mr. Kelly.”
“I’ve got a meeting with Wes.”
She nodded as though she already knew, but she signaled me to wait one minute with her forefinger. Punching a couple of numbers into the phone that I assumed connected her to Wes’s assistant, she checked to see if I could go back.
We exchanged a few words while I waited, and I moved my eyes around the office rather than keeping them on her. The old candid player photos were more interesting than Susie anyway. Don’t get me wrong; she was pretty in the conventional way, soft features and golden-blond hair, but she didn’t even register on my dick’s radar.
Apparently, he only gave feedback to supercell women now, the kind that f
ucking lit up your world with lightning-like surprises and thunderous opinions—the ones whose looks were ominous and their bite was just as bad as their bark. The kind of women who weren’t a kind of women at all, but instead, a woman all their own. The kind of woman who wasn’t just a woman because she was fucking Cassie.
She was a dozen things at once, and I couldn’t fucking get a single one out of my head.
“Mr. Kelly,” Susie called, and I turned at the sound of her voice. Her eyes moved upward dramatically, and I had the feeling they’d been studying my ass. “He’s just finishing up on a phone call, but you can go on back.”
“Thanks,” I said with a wink and smile. She flushed again, and only when she tried to surreptitiously hike her breasts higher in her bra did I realize that maybe I shouldn’t have done it.
It was just second nature. Like a facial tic. I wasn’t even sure I was in control of it.
Pulling my face to neutral, I moved past her space and down the hall, looking at the nameplates on the doors as I did. Wes didn’t have a huge staff here at the offices since the stadium was actually in New Jersey, but he kept the people he needed to interact with on a regular basis close. And for him, and his multifaceted entrepreneurship, that meant being in Manhattan.
Since he was still busy on a phone call, I had time for a little visit with one of my favorite women.
I knocked on her closed door before turning the knob and peeking my head in. Her lips curved into a smile when she saw me—a completely different reaction from the first time she’d laid eyes on me in the Raines Law Room.
“Hey, Georgia girl,” I whispered when I saw she had her phone up and in front of her like she was FaceTiming with someone.
“Hey, Thatch,” she said dramatically, and my eyebrows pulled together.
“Thatcher?” I heard from her phone and immediately understood. “What’s that motherfucker doing there?”