Chapter Eight
Phoebe
Waking up with a moan, I lie in the guest bed sweating. It’s the fifth sex dream I’ve had about Tucker. All of them should scare me, but they excite me instead.
In each and every one of them, I’m unable to move. He’s free to do whatever he wants, and everything he wants feels so damn good.
“You okay, Yellow Crayon?” Tucker calls as he opens the door without knocking.
I’ve suspected he could hear me even with the door closed, but he never says anything. Brushing the hair from the damp skin of my face, I swallow. “Yeah, it was just a dream.”
“Sounded like a damn good one.”
Oh God, I hope I didn’t call out his name. “It was… an experience.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
I want to relive it. I have since the first night I spent here with him. The way he changed into the caring version of himself when I freaked out had me aching for him in a way I’ve never experienced before.
“No, that’s okay.”
Rather than leave, he walks into the room, and the dim light from the hallway does little to allow me to see more than just a shadow of him. “Are you sure?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask any question you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer it, though.”
Tucker’s response makes me smile, and knowing he can’t see it makes it better somehow. I suspect he knows it’s there, though. “When you go to your… friend for sex, you said it’s because you have particular tastes. Are those particular tastes that you don’t like to be touched?”
“Why do you ask that?”
Here goes nothing. For some reason, I want to share everything with him. Well, almost everything. “In my dreams, we’re, uh, we’re having sex. Except I’m always tied up so I can’t touch you. Is that how you like it?”
His breath hitches, and I know I caught him off guard with my confession. “You’ve read Fifty Shades of Grey too many times, Yellow Crayon. But no, it’s not about touching for me. It’s more about looking.”
I frown and tilt my head. I wish I could see his face. Read his expression. “Looking?”
“I don’t like being looked at.”
Okay, not what I expected. He’s so beautiful that I would love to stare at him all day. In fact, I tend to watch him when he’s not looking to memorize everything about him. And thinking about how great he must look naked makes me blush. “Oh.”
“Did you like what I did to you in your dreams?”
Swallowing again, I cringe at how audible it is. Nothing sounds less sexy. Except maybe a fart. “Yes,” I whisper.
“You like a bit of darkness despite your sunny disposition, don’t you, Yellow Crayon?”
There’s a husk in his voice that makes me tremble. Until him, I never thought I was the type of girl who liked anything remotely dark. In the bedroom or otherwise. But all I can think about now is dirty. Rough. How exciting it all is.
“Possibly.”
“Do you want me to show you a bit of the darkness inside of me?”
More than anything. “Yes.”
His strong arms pull me from the bed, and my back presses against his front. My thin shirt allows me to feel he’s shirtless against my back, and I desperately want to see what he looks like.
The sleep pants he wears hides very little as our bodies rest against each other, and I shiver as his erection presses against my ass. I’ve never wanted a man like this before.
In fact, I’ve never really wanted a man in my life, but I’ve given in to the few boyfriends I’ve had. But not one of them ever seemed this excited at the thought of having me.
“Let’s see how much you want it,” Tucker whispers into my ear.
I don’t know exactly what that means, but the darkness adds to the excitement as I wait to find out. My sleep attire is a very unattractive oversized shirt and panties that are soaked through. It’s probably good that he can’t see me. He’d probably turn and walk away at the frumpiness.
I gasp as his fingers slip up my shirt to skate along my belly before dipping into my panties. God, I hope he isn’t grossed out by how wet they are.
“Fuck, Yellow Crayon. You really want the darkness I have to offer you, don’t you?”
The ability to form words has completely escaped me, and all I’m left with is desperate sounds. Thankfully, he understands they mean yes.
Everything in me screams out yes.
He’s inside me quickly, my panties pushed to the side. The feel of him as he slowly rocks is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and he bends me forward until I figure out he wants me bracing myself on the bed.
It feels so good, and I grip the sheets in my hands as he continues to move inside me.
“You’re as tight as I imagined you’d be.”
He’s thought about having sex with me like I have him? Why does knowing this turn me on even more? I swear, I could burst into flames right now. I’m so damn hot.
“You feel better than you do in my dreams,” I say before letting out a soft moan.
At least my speech functionality has returned.
“Fuck, you take it so good.”
My small boobs bounce beneath the oversized shirt as he thrusts faster and harder into me. I’ve never been a fan of the jackhammer motion, or being taken from behind for reasons I’ll never tell him, but this feels amazing. It feels like a dirty dream, and I’m loving it.
My orgasm hides just over the ridge, and I can tell he holds back. He probably assumes I can’t handle what he offers. His fingers grip my hips, and his movements are strategic where I’d expect wild.
I need more.
So much more.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please what?” He bends over to whisper into my ear. “Tell me what you want.”
“Harder.”
“Are you sure?”
The desperate whimper comes out involuntarily. “Yes. Please, Tucker. I need it.”
“I can do that, Yellow Crayon.”
His fingers dig into my hips to an almost painful level, and the wild thrusts I expected come out to play. He pounds into me harder and harder, and I almost sigh in relief as the tingling sensation I desperately seek washes over me.
“Yes!”
He pulls out and gives a strangled moan that sounds almost like he’s in pain. But then the sticky heat hits my thighs, and I know he finished.
“That snuck up on me,” he says, using the fabric of his pants to wipe my skin. “You clenched me so fucking hard.”
Neither of us took off our clothes. He yanked his pants down just enough to free him, and my panties were shoved to the side. It’s dirty and sexy.
His confession makes me smile while I stay bent over to catch my breath.
“I feel like I should apologize or something.”
He adjusts my panties and helps me stand upright before saying, “Never apologize for coming,” into my ear.
He kisses my temple, and it feels weird now that we weren’t naked. Almost like it didn’t happen. Like it was all in my imagination.
It’s also strange not seeing him as he took me. As he came. As I came.
I want to ask why he hates being looked at during sex, especially because he doesn’t do anything to hide himself in public. So it can’t be because of his scar. But I doubt he’ll tell me if I do ask.
He keeps everything so secretive. Like sharing too much makes him vulnerable, and I desperately want him to let me in. Just a little. All the tidbits he’s given me have been yanked like teeth, and they barely scratch the surface.
“Please forgive me,” Tucker says.
“For what?”
“I don’t cuddle.”
I don’t understand what he’s saying until he leaves the room. His footsteps fade as he disappears further into the darkness toward his room, and I realize it. He came, took what he wanted—what we wanted—and left.
My heart sinks as I stand beside the bed, alone. That’s all I’ll ever get of him. The only way he’ll give himself to me. Screw me and leave me.
Then again, isn’t that basically the theme of my life? The few people I’ve truly cared about always left. If only he knew how desperately I crave being loved. Even though I understand exactly how he feels with not wanting to let people in, either.
But he’s my exception. I’d let him in if I knew he’d do the same.
I fight the tears as I crawl back into bed, hugging the pillow to my chest as I try to force myself to sleep.
Is this what’ll happen now that I’ve let him in? Will this be the nightly routine? Coming in after midnight, screwing me, and leaving me to comfort myself in the darkness of the night?
Maybe I don’t want the darkness in him. He’s right when he says I’m the light. I want to be the sunshine even if the darkness entices me.
I fear I’ve just opened Pandora’s box, and now I’m in trouble.
Big, big trouble.