“Thatcher,” Jane cries. “Thatcher, harder. Harder, please.” Sweat glistens our skin, and I rock at a rougher, deeper pace that pushes me to a sensitive spot in her body. Holy. Fuck. I grip the door handle, then her thigh, keeping her leg higher on my waist. “Jane,” I grunt. “Fuckfuck.” Her mouth is broken open in overflowing arousal, and her soft, aching noises prick my veins and twitch my cock inside her. “Yes,” she moans. “Yesyesyes.” Tears crease her eyes.
