Chapter 14
14
OLIVIA
“ F irst of all— Buttercup ?”
Pressed against Tuck, I feel the vibration of his laughter in his chest. The sensation elicits a fuzzy warmth deep in my center.
“You didn’t like it?” he asks coyly.
I kind of did. “Of course not.”
He lets out a playful sigh. “We’ll just have to think of another pet name, then.”
“Or not,” I protest. But there’s no bite to the words. No firmness. They’re weak.
I’ve been getting way too weak around Tuck lately. What should really worry me is the fact that, even as I realize this, I feel no resolution to reinforce the walls I’ve built up when it comes to him.
Tuck and I sway back and forth lazily as a slower, more mellow tune pumps from the speakers.
This would be the perfect time to thank Tuck for rescuing me from the guy who kept spewing lame pick-up lines at me, and then just step away. The perfect time to find Summer and the other girls and spend the rest of the night on the other side of the bar, studiously avoiding his gaze.
But I don’t. I stay here, letting him lead me in our languid motions, feeling the heat of his body against me, the firm pressure of his arm wrapped around my back, the delicious definition of his muscles where his arm presses close to my side.
Another couple bumps into us, and I lose my footing. I stumble briefly, and it makes me grind close against Tuck, my waist pressing into a semi-hard length below Tuck’s belt.
Sparks of arousal spread all over my surface. A tight, needy feeling twinges at the apex of my thighs. Involuntarily, a throaty groan escapes my lips.
I look up to see Tuck looking down at me, his eyes hooded and simmering with heat.
“I heard that,” he says, the words a raspy and knowing tease.
The cocky, suggestive twang of his voice makes that tight feeling between my legs even worse.
Now’s really the time I should step away. I feel like I did that night I was reading the romance book Summer recommended me, when I first started touching myself with Tuck on my mind.
I feel like I’m right at the precipice of a steep fall; like I still have time to step away, but if I wait any longer, I might find myself tipping over the edge …
For the last couple weeks, I’ve been feeling down about making smart but disappointing decisions. Choosing to do what I should do, what I need to do, instead of what I’d like to do.
How nice would it be, just once, to do something I know I shouldn’t? Just because I want to, just because it would feel good?
I don’t step away.
Instead, I tilt my hips. I grind into him again, harder this time. Now the outline underneath his belt isn’t semi-hard, it’s rock hard. And it’s huge. My stomach flips as I feel the indentation of it right above my mound.
“Fuck,” the curse falls from Tuck’s lips like a hoarse groan.
Tuck matches my boldness by crooking his hip so that his leg nudges between my thighs. My dress rides up on my hips, the front of Tuck’s leg pushing the hem. The feeling of him between my thighs, the knowledge that the thin scrap of my panties is just about an inch away from his leg, makes a wave of heat unfurl over my skin.
Despite the heat I feel, my nipples pebble into tight nubs underneath my dress, as if this sweltering dance floor were as cold as the winter night outside.
Just then, the slower song that was playing ends, and it’s replaced with a more rhythmic, kinetic track, better suited for the raunchy atmosphere of a nightclub. The pounding baseline heightens the way my heavy pulse is making my body throb. It makes me want to move my hips.
I do. I cant my hips forward, pressing myself against the flat of Tuck’s leg. A whimper escapes my lips as way more pleasure than I expected erupts inside me, snaking through my body and making my heart slam against my chest.
“Holy fuck,” Tuck groans, pulling me tighter against him with his muscular arm. He splays his other hand on the curve of my hip, his strong fingertips pressing into my skin over my dress.
My blood flow pounds in my ears. I’m doing something I know I shouldn’t, and I like how it feels.
But there’s still only so far I’m willing to go. I’m not going to take this all the way and sleep with Tuck tonight. That’s a line I’m not willing to cross, not even with this newfound boldness coursing through me.
There are still too many ways that could go wrong.
Even though lately Tuck’s shown me he’s not the person I initially assumed he was, I still don’t trust him. I don’t trust that he won’t change the way he acts toward me if we sleep together.
I remember how Ryan changed after the first time we had sex. If Tuck acts similarly after getting what he wants, I won’t be able to keep from hating him. Really hating him. Which, considering he’s Hudson’s teammate and best friend, could make things awkward for Summer’s relationship. I don’t want to risk doing that to her.
I also don’t want to risk how hurt I know I’ll be if that does happen.
No, I’m not willing to be that reckless, but I’m still willing to be pretty reckless …
Tuck presses his fingertips deeper into the softness of my hip, moving his big, powerful thumb to graze the outline of my hip bone. His touch makes me thrum with desire.
I tilt my hips again. I press myself hard against his leg this time, the friction between my thighs sending a wave of pleasure rolling through me. My stomach feels like it’s upside down.
I can feel how wet I am. The peak of my thighs is buzzing, my clit tight, my pussy throbbing with liquid heat. I bet I’m so wet that the front of Tuck’s pant leg is damp with the evidence of my arousal.
The thought only turns me on more. I grind into him again, swiveling my hips to the rhythm of the music. I let my forehead drop against Tuck’s chest as a moan rips from me, and from his chest, I feel the vibration of his own.
His hand on my hip grips me harder, so hard that I’ll probably see five marks attesting to the presence of his fingertips on my skin when I take this dress off tonight.
“Let’s get out of here,” he rasps into my ear. His voice is always a cool, easy drawl, but now it’s thick and hot with desire.
“No,” I answer.
A noise that’s a mix between a laugh and a pained groan escapes his throat. “You’re just doing this to torture me, then?”
“Maybe I am,” I tease. It feels like an out-of-body experience as the words float from my mouth.
Tuck angles his hips so his leg presses against my pussy again. I draw in a gasp. I can feel how soaked my panties are.
His leg still pressed against me, Tuck tips his hips just slightly, giving my tight clit the friction it craves. Ecstasy spears through me, my eyes rolling back as my lashes flutter.
“Fuck, Olivia,” Tuck growls. “I can feel how wet you are. You’re soaking my leg. You need to come, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my eyes still closed.
“Then let’s go?—”
“No,” I interrupt. “Here.”
I can’t believe I just said that.
I open my eyes to see Tuck staring down at me, his gaze burning with desire, his jaw muscles flexing with intensity.
“I think I know what you want,” he says with gravel in his voice. “You want my fingers, don’t you?”
A sharp ache throbs between my thighs. “Yes.”
“Shit,” Tuck groans. “When did you become such a dirty girl?”
I wish I knew.
He glances behind him. “Come on,” he says, his voice low and conspiratorial. He takes me by the hand and leads me through the thick throng of gyrating bodies.
I don’t know where he’s taking me. All I know is I’m going to follow him anywhere right now. I’m missing him between my thighs, missing the friction of him brushing against my clit so much that a fierce ache is hammering between my legs.
My spine tingles with anticipation. Being brought to climax by the deft fingers of the guy I’ve been trying to stay away from, at a popular club on a Friday night—something I shouldn’t even be considering.
It sure as hell feels good to do something I shouldn’t for once. Something irresponsible. Something indecent .
We arrive at two stanchions and a velvet rope blocking off access to a dark hallway at the edge of the dancefloor. Tuck throws another glance over his shoulder before stepping over it. I do the same as he tugs me with him.
“They have private rooms you can book for events back here, but they’re not using them tonight,” Tuck explains. He tries two of the door handles, but they’re locked.
He shrugs, then grips my waist and pulls me close to him, flush against his chest. Through my dress and his shirt, I can feel the stark outlines of his defined, rippling physique.
“Think this is privacy enough?” he asks. In the shadows I can just barely make out his plush lips curling into a dark, devious grin.
I turn around. We’re shrouded in darkness down this hallway. None of the overhead lights are illuminated. We can still see into the main room, but no one out there could spot us. Even if someone stood right behind the rope and peered down, they’d only be able to barely make out the vague shapes of two people. They’d never be able to tell what we’re doing.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I think so.”
“Good,” he growls, the word a savage rasp.
He wraps his arm around me, the thickness of his corded forearm tight against my tummy. He pulls my back against his chest. My breath hitches as I feel enveloped in him. Here in this hallway, away from other people, his scent hits me. It’s like sandalwood with hints of cinnamon, and a musky, masculine edge. Deep and overwhelming.
His smell combined with his touch makes me lightheaded. I get a lot more lightheaded, so much that my knees wobble, when I feel his right hand hot on my exposed thigh, torturously crawling up until he passes the hem of my dress.
“This is a one-time thing,” I say, my head swimming as my thighs tense with anticipation, yearning for his touch.
“Fine,” he breathes.
I suck in a gasp as the tip of his middle finger grazes the very peak of my thigh, right next to my pussy. The pressure of his finger is so tantalizingly close that my body goes taut. My clit throbs, and the whimper I release is so desperate it’s almost a sob.
“You’re fucking dying for it, aren’t you?” Tuck taunts. He drags his other hand up my body and squeezes my breast through my dress.
I let my head fall back against his chest. “Yes,” I admit. I’m a quivering mess, and I’ve lost all ability to be coy, all ability to engage in any push-and-pull with him. “Please,” I whisper.
My eyes snap open when his finger grazes over my panties, up the length of my slit. I buck my hips forward as he ghosts his thumb over my clit. He teases me like this for what feels like ages, light touches and grazes of pressure exactly where I want it, but not nearly firm enough to satisfy the throbbing ache.
The low rumble of his laugh is warm on the shell of my ear. I’m bucking my hips forward, trying to get more contact, more friction than he’s giving me, and he’s clearly loving the way he’s playing my body like an instrument.
“You’re so wet. Even through your panties,” he says, the thickness in his voice making it clear that he loves that fact. “You’re fucking soaked .”
“I want your fingers inside me,” I plead.
Tuck makes a deep, satisfied sound. Finally, he gives me what I want. He pulls my panties to the side and traces a firm circle around my clit.
My pussy clenches, white-hot pleasure rippling through me. I can’t believe how good it feels. If Tuck weren’t holding me against him, I’m sure that my legs would give out and I’d fall to the floor.
This time when I buck my hips, he supplies the pressure I crave. His thumb keeps circling my clit while his middle finger drags through my folds. My head is spinning. I bite my bottom lip to keep my soft moans from turning into loud cries, cries that could give us away.
Because if someone discovers us here, if Tuck has to stop before I get the release my body is screaming for, I genuinely think I might die.
Finally, Tuck slides a finger inside me.
I gasp. My opening clenches around his big, strong finger. My head swims with bliss. The base of my spine feels tight, and pressure swells deep and low inside me as my entire body burns in the most delicious way.
His other hand kneads into my breast, ratcheting the sensation higher. I find myself wishing my dress were off, wishing we were really alone, wishing I could feel Tuck’s hand against my naked tit, the rough pad of his finger scraping the taut nub of my nipple.
But that can’t happen. This has to be it. This has to be good enough, just this one time.
Tuck’s finger crooks inside me, hitting the perfect spot, and it’s enough to send me hurtling to climax. The walls of my pussy clench around him, every other muscle in my body going tight along with it as I’m rocked by the most incredible release I can remember.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. My eyes are shut tight, pinpricks of light flashing behind them like tiny fireworks against a jet-black sky.
My chest is heaving when my climax subsides. I feel so loose, so light. It’s the most relaxed and unwound I’ve felt in … I can’t remember when. It’s only after it’s been lifted from me that I realize how much tension I was carrying in my body.
“Fucking hell, Lockley,” Tuck says. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.” He chuckles. “I can’t believe I made you come on my fingers when we haven’t even kissed.”
He turns me around. In the dim light, I can see him bring his hand up to his lips, the same hand that just got me off. One by one, he plunges his fingers into his mouth, slowly licking off my juices.
Even in the dimness, I see his bright blue eyes flash with appreciation as he tastes me. I draw in a sharp breath, my core clenching at how erotic the sight is.
“Let’s change that.” He places his hand firmly on the back of my neck and pulls me into a kiss.
Our mouths crush together. When he rolls his lips, the taste of my own arousal bursts on my tongue. He angles his mouth to deepen the kiss, and it only fills my mouth with more of my own flavor.
I like it.
I kiss him back harder, wanting more. He slides his tongue across the crease of my lips, and I part them, granting him access. His tongue spears into me and slants against my own, exploring the inside of my mouth with assertiveness.
Then—I pull back.
His eyes are hooded and hazy. His plush lips are swollen from our kiss. His cheeks are flushed. His chest heaving.
“One-time thing,” I remind him. My voice is weak and thin. There’s no missing the disappointed lilt in it, either.
He nods. “That’s what you said.”
“I mean it. I needed this tonight. But this can’t be anything more than it was.”
Tuck’s brow pinches. His swollen lips draw into a straight, tight line on his face. But it only lasts a moment before his features return to their normal relaxed state. “Got it,” he says. “Loud and clear.”
As we walk back into the main room of the club, what’s troubling me isn’t whether I believe Tuck.
It’s whether I believe myself.