After what we’d done earlier, I didn’t hesitate to run my fingers over them to discover they were soft, but raspy.

“This is when I usually wake up.”

His gaze dipped to his shirt. “Looks better on you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I liked wearing his shirt. And nothing else.

“I’ve got something we can do to pass the time. You game?”

Was I game for more sex with Thatcher? Um, yeah.

“You got your fantasy earlier,” he murmured. “My turn?”

I licked my lips at the possibilities. I knew Thatcher liked my body. He’d liked it when I was on top. But beyond that…

“Your turn,” I whispered, my hand pressing against his chest and then sliding down. Lower and lower still.

“You good with me taking control?” he asked.

Amy and my parents were asleep in their rooms. They could come down at any time, although I couldn’t imagine them waking at this time of night. Or morning.

“Sure.”

“Good girl. Then bend over the counter.”

My eyes flared, then flicked to the huge center island. This was his fantasy? Here?

He must have sensed my concern because he asked, “Think I’d do anything to hurt you? That all I want to do is get you to come all over my dick?”

He’d seen the people I’d grown up with. He had a pretty good idea of what I’d gone through growing up. One thing I couldn’t stand was being humiliated or degraded. Thatcher wouldn’t do that to me. A thrill shot through me, and it wasn’t panic.

It was need.

I turned and set my palms on the cool granite, then leaned forward.

He didn’t wait but nudged my feet wider apart with one of his knees. His hands slid up the backs of my thighs and pushed his shirt up to my waist.

“I love this ass.”

“It’s big.”

“You want me to spank you here in your parents’ kitchen?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

The idea of him spanking me made me clench my butt cheeks in anticipation.

“You like that idea.”

“Not here.”

His hand caressed over my butt. “No, not here.”

I heard the sound of a condom wrapper, then a pause where I turned to watch him slide the protection down his length.

He reached around me, gripped the front of his shirt I wore and tugged the snaps open.

My breasts spilled out and he cupped them as he thrust deep.

I moaned, then bit my lip.

“Shh,” he murmured in my ear. “You don’t want your parents to know you’re getting fake fucked by your fake boyfriend.”