When I return my eyes to his, the smirk on his face almost splits me in half. There’s no denying my attraction to him. He probably noticed that within the first two weeks we were living together. I’ve never been good at hiding emotions, most notably it seems when it comes to Tucker and his ruggedly handsome features.
He takes a step forward. I can feel a small shiver down my spine in anticipation of his touch, of his kiss, of his body moving flawlessly on top of mine. The space between us closes as he takes one more step forward. The heat emanating off him envelops me into a ball of desire as his hands unbutton my last button. His fingers trail along the edges of my open shirt, sending goosebumps along my skin and a shot of awareness straight to my sex. I’m so wet, even though he hasn’t even truly touched me yet.
“I want you so fucking bad, Emma.”
“Take me, Tucker,” I say on a whisper, hoping and praying his stalling has nothing to do with second-guessing. Please let him be ready.
He gnaws on his bottom lip for a second before both his hands trail a line over my collarbone until they push the shirt off my shoulders and onto the floor of his bedroom. His eyes are on mine for a brief second before they flick to my breasts. I don’t have to look down to know my nipples are hard. I can feel them tingling in awareness, yearning to be touched, sucked, licked. Yearning for him.
Tucker slowly takes me in, his eyes not giving him away but from how he’s running his hand over his rough jaw, I can tell he’s feeling the same way I am, nervous with a whole bunch of want.
“Fuck, Emma.” His hand glides over his mouth in awe. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
The compliment hits me hard, giving me a boost of confidence I desperately needed.
We are a separate entity from our past, from his past.
Leaving me topless without his touch, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my pajama pants and slips them down my legs, exposing nothing but a red thong that matches the hearts on my pajamas. A low groan travels up his throat as he takes me in. He links our hands together and helps me step out of my pants. I kick them to the side with my shirt so they’re out of the way. Releasing one of my hands, he slowly spins me around, stopping me when my back is toward him.
He stops me and grips my shoulders tenderly until he slides his hands down my arms, to my ribcage where his fingers barely graze the side of my breasts. I take in a sharp hiss of a breath from the contact, my core heating up with every touch. Slowly, his hands glide down my sides until he reaches my hips. His body presses flush against mine, and his lips find my neck where he lightly kisses me and whispers, “Your ass is so fuckable, baby. I’ve dreamt of this ass. I’ve had visions of punishing this little ass, of biting into it, claiming it as mine.” His lips dance across the space between my neck and shoulder, sending chills all over my body.
He slips his hands under the thin strap of my thong and pushes it down, leaving me bare to the cool night air.
Behind me, I can feel the roughness of his jeans against my legs, and the sensation of my burning skin against his pants sends a wave of yearning through my body.
Hands still on my hips, he leans his head forward and brings his lips from my shoulder up the column of my neck to my ear where he whispers, “I knew you were gorgeous, Emma, but fuck me, you naked makes me want to worship every inch of your body.” He nips at my ear. “Combine that with your heart and your mind? I’m drowning in desperation for you.”
Does he know I feel the same? That his heart is just as kind, that his mind turns me on, that his protective instincts make me want to never leave his side?
While he kisses my neck, his tongue peeking out every once in a while, his teeth nipping at my skin, his hands move to the front of my body, his palms spanning over my stomach. His touch is warm, demanding, and all I can do is lean my head back so I’m resting on his shoulder.
“What do you want me to do to you, Emma?” His voice brushes against my skin, making my nipples even harder if possible. His hands go higher to the point where they rest right below my breasts.
Everything inside me is pounding with need, a throbbing craving taking root in my center, vibrating through my bones, reminding me just how turned on I am.
“Everything, Tucker,” I gasp when he nips at my neck. There is no doubt that will be a mark tomorrow.
“Tell me what you want.” His lips are right next to my ear again, his teeth tugging on my earlobe. The shy side of me clams up. I’ve never been approached like this during sex, being asked what I want. It’s always just been given to me, sometimes with less finesse than desired.
Helping me out, he whispers, “Tell me, Emma. Do you want my hands plucking these tight nipples of yours? Do you want my thick fingers sliding into your wet cunt only to be followed by my tongue? Do you want me to bend you over this bed and spank that delicious ass of yours until you cry out in pure ecstasy? Or do you want me to spread you across my bed, hands held above your head, while I slowly pulse in and out of you until you can’t take the languid strokes of my thick cock inside your tight pussy any longer?”
My breath escapes me, my mind is a whirl of yeses, a mash-up of please, God, let this happen and holy shit I want him to fuck me immediately. I want to scream yes to everything but I’m speechless, unable to voice my opinion from the ball of need clogging my throat.
“Not going to answer? Fine, baby, but that means I get total control.” Within a second, he has me spun around, facing him. My hands fall to his chest for support. His muscles flex under my palms reminding me of the sexy and strong man he’s become. He lifts my chin and says, “Don’t want to tell me what you want, then you’re at my mercy. Can you do that? Give me total control?”
I swallow hard and my voice sounds miles away as I speak. “Is that what you want?”
He shifts in his stance and cups my face with his hands. “I want to make you come until you pass out.”
I can’t help it. I swallow hard again. “I want that too.”
“Good.”
He doesn’t take a second for me to catch my breath before he’s laying me down on the bed and parting my legs so he can position himself over me. Still with his jeans undone, his hair slightly askew, and a heated look in his eyes, he places his hands on either side of my head and lowers his mouth to mine where he gently parts my lips with his tongue.
I grant him access, not putting up any sort of a fight. Why would I? How could I? I want this. I need this. I will explode without this.
Our mouths meld together, slowly. There is no rush in his movements; it’s as if he’s imprinting every single flick of our tongues, movement of our mouths, and nibble of our teeth in his brain. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t doing the same thing.