Thatch growled a sexy fucking growl, gripped my hips, and thrust his dick inside me, sliding in and out of my clenching and throbbing pussy as he finished himself off.
Holy hell. That was good.
“Shit, Cass,” he muttered and lay back on the bed, bringing my body with his so that I was sprawled out across his chest. “You fuck me so good.”
I grinned up at him through relaxed, just-had-a-fantastic-orgasm eyes.
Besides the sounds of our panting breaths slowing down, silence filled the room.
And it was nice. Peaceful, even.
But it didn’t last long.
“Wait…were you telling me something about our honeymoon?” Thatch eventually asked, reaching down to lift up my chin so my eyes met his again.
I nodded and rested my chin on his chest. “I planned it.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “We leave soon.”
That took him aback. “Leave soon? What are you talking about?”
I pressed a kiss to his lips and hopped off the bed. “We have to be at the airport in three hours.”
Thatch shot up in bed, his body straight as an arrow. “What?”
“Our honeymoon starts today, Thatcher!” I called over my shoulder as I stepped into our walk-in closet and grabbed his favorite leather duffel.
“Cass, it’s Friday,” he responded. “I have meetings. I have work. I have—”
“You have to cancel it all,” I cut him off as I strode back into our bedroom and tossed his duffel right as his head. “We’re going to be gone for seven days, so plan accordingly when you set up whatever you need to as far as coverage at the office.”
He caught the bag on a shocked laugh.
“Pack your shit, T. It’s honeymoon time!”
“Cass, not gonna lie, when I told you to plan our honeymoon the other night, I thought you were going to plan something for after the baby is born…”
After the baby was born? Pfft. Yeah, right. I’d be a mom then, and I’d have to do mom things. If our honeymoon was going to happen, it needed to happen right now.
When I dragged my suitcase out of our closet and started throwing clothes into it, he asked, “Wait. You’re really serious, aren’t you?”
“Like I said, pack your shit, T-bag. It’s honeymoon time!”
“Where are we even going?” he questioned as he slid his sexy fucking body out of bed.
“Some place really fantastic and that will meet all our wild and crazy honeymoon needs.”
“Which is where, exactly?”
I winked at him. “You’ll find out when we get there.”
“Did you call Billy and arrange a flight?” he asked, still trying to put the puzzle pieces together like we were a game of Clue, for fluff’s sake.
“No. I didn’t meet Colonel Mustard in the conservatory either, so don’t bother asking.”
“I guess we’re flying commercial, then,” he muttered under his breath, and I rolled my eyes. Like I couldn’t fluffing hear a mutter out of his big mouth. I could hear the man breathe when he was really annoying me. I didn’t know why he always thought he could get anything by me. “And Philmore? Who’s watching him?”
I rolled my eyes again. What is with this guy and all the questions?
“I found a nanny on Care.com a week ago.”
“They have a website for pig nannies?”
“A nanny for the baby, Thatcher. Jesus. And she agreed to go ahead and start with watching Philmore on occasion until our baby boy arrives.”
“How on earth did you arrange all this in the last two days?”
I stopped shoving clothes into my suitcase and whipped toward him in a flash. “Are you seriously questioning my abilities to put together a plan right now?”
The big ogre shook his head with a dumb, gaping mouth. “No. That sounds bad, so definitely no.”
“Then pack your shit. The nanny will be here in an hour.”
And six to seven hours after that, I’d finally be able to drink in the last vestiges of my freedom.
Fluff yes. Time to get crazy.
After surviving a commercial flight out of JFK, we arrived at our official honeymoon destination, but there was no fanfare, no spring breakers flashing their tits on the streets, no loose and rowdy crowds downing beers and blasting music.
If I was being honest, it was all pretty fucking lackluster.
Panama City Beach in October might as well be the Wild West in an old movie with tumbleweeds rolling through the streets for all the activity it had today. An empty airport gave way to an easy Uber ride, and the farther we drove into the strip of bars and restaurants, the more and more I was starting to wonder if there’d been some sort of zombie apocalypse prior to our arrival.
Cassie was decked out in her finest crop top and heart-shaped sunglasses, and I was doing my best to embrace the new, trendy, thigh-length shorts she’d insisted I wear, but I’d seen The Walking Dead, and I was fully prepared to spray both of us with some zombie-style blood and guts if I had to, bitchin’ outfits or not.
“Uh, Cass honey…what exactly made you choose Panama City Beach?” I asked, treading lightly through a pregnancy maze of lasers that would rival the Matrix. I was one hot motherfluffer, but even I didn’t fancy myself in the same league as the beloved Keanu Reeves.
“It’s the Spring Break Capitol of the World, T-bag.”
I nodded swiftly, hoping to convey my allegiance enough that she wouldn’t flip out on me when I went on to question her decision further. “Of course. That makes sense, totally. Just…well, it’s October. Are there spring breaks in October?” I asked, widening my eyes in the hope of conveying innocence.
“Just what are you trying to get at?” she challenged with a point to my throat that made her finger seem a lot more menacing than it should have. Her nails weren’t even long, but all I could seem to imagine was her slicing all the way through my jugular with a single swipe.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. I’m excited. Gulf of Mexico… Woo-hoo!”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the opposite window of the Uber, and I inhaled deeply. The driver’s hands flexed on the steering wheel, and his eyes met mine in the rearview. They were wide and glistening with just a hint of tears. It was safe to say he was feeling the intensity too, and I did my best to apologize telepathically. Really, I insisted mentally. It’s best if I don’t say anything aloud. This woman isn’t all talk; she will castrate us both, I swear it. Lord help us all.
“So where are we staying, honey?” I continued, trying to make easy conversation. “All these surprises of yours have me so thrilled.”
Her head whipped in my direction, her hair flying over her shoulder in a seriously dramatic effect. “Are you mocking me, Thatcher? Because I’ll remind you that you’re the one who stalked me all the way to fluffing Arizona so you could rob us both of all the traditions of a planned wedding and honeymoon. I’m working with the scraps you left me, you know?”
I shook my head almost violently in denial. “No. No. Of course not. I’m genuinely ecstatic, my love. Seriously, I think the Supercock might even maintain a permanent salute. This trip so far is the real deal. I can’t imagine—”