Chapter 11
11
H anna felt warm. And sated. And a tiny bit sore.
She’d brought Tucker home to her place last night after joining him for drinks at the restaurant, and he’d kept her up late with an insatiable desire to know every nook and cranny of her body.
Hanna wasn’t complaining. She stretched, taking note of small bruises scattered across her breasts, and grinned.
She was starting to like Tucker a little too much for her comfort—to the point where she knew she probably needed to tell Madi and Bella about him soon, but she couldn’t quite work up the nerve. She’d never thought this thing with Tucker would go anywhere. She figured he’d grow annoyed at her awkwardness—like most people. But instead, he still just had that little smirk on his face anytime she found herself being embarrassing.
She didn’t quite know what to make of it.
At the sound of footsteps, she turned over and watched Tucker walk in with a tray of elaborately made breakfast foods—pancakes smothered in syrup, crab eggs Benedict, bacon and sausage, and what looked to be some sort of smoothie. Clad in a t-shirt he’d left here for when he slept over and the jeans he’d worn last night, he looked mussed, but alert.
“Good morning, shortcake,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he set the tray in front of her.
She bit her lip as the smells of the food hit her and her stomach loudly growled. “Where did you even find the ingredients for all of that?”
“Ran to the grocery store real quick.” He sat next to her, grabbing her chin and tugging her in for a kiss. “Gotta make sure my girl keeps her strength up.”
“Oh yeah?” Hanna smirked, grabbing the fork and cutting a slice of the pancake to take a bite. “And why’s that?”
“Because I plan to spend the whole day in bed with you.” He licked a stray smudge of syrup from her lips, and her core fluttered.
“Is that right?” She attempted to sound confident and sexy—but it came out breathless and eager.
“Eat first.” He laughed, then whispered, “More sex later.”
Hanna could get on board with that. She scarfed down the rest of the pancake, feeding every few bites to Tucker, then started in on the crab eggs Benedict.
“How the fuck do you make this so good?” She moaned.
He reached over for the fork and tried to take a bite for himself, but she raised a brow at him. “Um, these are my eggs Benedict. What do you think you’re doing?”
He snickered. “Is that how it’s gonna be?”
She nodded, mouth full.
As she finished eating, his eyes lingered on her mouth and she grinned.
“Strip,” he said, grabbing the tray from her and setting it on a bedside table.
She eagerly obeyed, kicking off her bright pink comforter and tossing the oversized t-shirt she’d thrown on last night over her head and his gaze lingered on her tits, on the places he’d marked her the night before.
“Fuck,” he growled, his hands clenching at his sides.
Goosebumps prickled over her skin, anticipation clawing away at her.
“You gonna have your wicked way with me, or what?” Hanna asked, a teasing edge to her tone.
“Is that a challenge?” Tucker said, his eyes feral.
Hanna’s breath caught. She nodded, her eyes wide, heart pitter-pattering as she waited for what he’d do next.
His gaze caught on a scarf hanging over her dresser, and he snatched it while her brows furrowed in confusion.
“How do you feel about being tied up?” He asked, his voice gravelly.
Oh.
Oh.
He wanted to?—
Okay, then.
Hanna could feel wetness pooling between her legs as she responded, breathless, “I’d like that.”
Tucker gave her a predatory grin as he brought her hands over her head and settled them next to the metal bars on her headboard. Then, with the careful precision of someone who clearly grew up tying knots on boats throughout his life, he looped her wrists through the scarf and attached them to the bed. Tugging the scarf to make sure it was sturdy, he nodded in satisfaction, his eyes dancing hungrily over her naked body. Her nipples tightened as his gaze paused over her breasts.
She’d never felt so… bare. And vulnerable.
But with Tucker, she felt safe.
Safe enough that the heat that had been steadily growing in her belly was almost torturous.
“It’s as tight as the scarf will allow, but you can still get out if you want,” he said, reaching for the smoothie he’d made that had been sitting, forgotten, on the breakfast tray he’d brought her. “If you feel uncomfortable, or don’t like something I’m doing, just tell me, and I’ll stop.”
Her heart warmed. This was why she felt safe with him. She knew that the moment she said the word stop, he would.
But she didn’t want that. She needed him to move faster. Make her come. Again and again and again. Just like last night.
She nodded. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”
Grabbing a spoon from the tray, he dipped it into the smoothie, then pulled it out and licked it, his eyes raging with lust as Hanna squirmed beneath him.
Dipping the spoon back in, he scooped out the smoothie and delicately pressed it against the center of her chest, square between her tits. Hanna gasped, the cold shocking her body and tightening her already pebbled nipples even more.
She’d never done this before—and she didn’t expect the corresponding heat in her core.
The smoothie began to melt slowly as Tucker ran his tongue along the purple line he’d made from her chest to her belly button. Rubbing her legs together, full of impatience, Hanna whimpered.
Tucker dipped the spoon in the smoothie, then circled her nipples with it, small bits of the smoothie collecting on her tits.
She moaned, the cold making her nipples almost painfully needy with desire.
“Tucker,” she breathed as he hovered his mouth over her breast.
“Mmm?”
He was singularly focused, his mouth closing around her left nipple, then her right—sweet relief from the cold, but increased desire and need for him tortured her.
He wasn’t done.
He dropped a heaping spoonful of the smoothie on her belly button, then sucked it out.
“Ahhh,” she moaned as his tongue lingered on her belly.
He was teasing her—so much so that she could feel the steady build of pleasure, the sweet increase of desire in her body, the unruly and desperate need to violently come.
“Too much?” He swirled the spoon around in the smoothie, a wicked grin playing over his lips.
“N-no,” she responded, trying to gain control of her breath.
“Good, because I’m not even close to being done with you,” he said, bringing a spoonful of smoothie to her belly, right above her sex. He pressed the spoon against her, eliciting another gasp from her, then dragged it down, down, down…
Hanna couldn’t see everything he did now. He was going lower—so low that she could only trust her body’s sensations to tell her what he was doing. There was an eager anticipation that came with it, a delicious tightness in her body, of not knowing what he was going to do next.
Hanna could feel her body buzzing with the force of a steady pleasure and desire, an orgasm feeling so close and so far.
She saw him dip the spoon back in the smoothie, then bring it back down to her center. Suddenly, she felt him press it to the inside of her thighs, and she hissed—desire coating her center as he licked up her thigh, but not nearly high enough. She squirmed, trying to bring her core to his mouth, and he chuckled.
“Impatient?” He asked, swirling the spoon again before pressing it to her other thigh and licking it clean.
“I—ahhh,” Hanna forgot what she was about to say as his tongue came tantalizingly close to her center.
She closed her eyes, wiggling against the scarf around her wrists, her body growing hot and needy with each swipe of his tongue against her. Suddenly, she felt the spoon against her clit, its cool center pressing against her with such firmness that she released an animalistic screech as the pleasure kept building in her.
“Tucker, please .” She didn’t care about propriety anymore. All she could think about was getting what she so desperately wanted—needed.
All it took was his tongue pressed against her clit with one fleeting flick, and she sobbed with relief at the way he sent her body over the edge, her body bucking and shaking without her control as he grazed his teeth over her clit, extending an already powerful orgasm.
As she came to, she gave him a sated smile, then glanced down to his pants—to where his erection pressed against his jeans so intensely that she could make out the shape of it, could tell that he was about ready to explode.
“Your turn?” She asked.
“I want to do this a thousand more times,” he said, setting the smoothie back on the tray.
“You can,” Hanna responded. “But right now, I want you to come on my tits.”
Tucker’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening, lust and anticipation and hesitation warring in his eyes.
“I can’t believe I’m already about to blow like a fucking teenager,” he said, palming his hard-on through his jeans.
Hanna laughed. “But you are. And I want you to take care of that.”
She could tell he wanted to keep going. That he’d torture her with that damn smoothie for the rest of the morning—maybe even the rest of the weekend, if he made another one. But right now, all she cared about was his pleasure. Making him feel good. Because there was something about watching this man lose control for her that made her feel invincible.
His hands reached for his zipper, but he paused and glanced back at the smoothie, still unsure.
“Tucker, please .” She whispered as his gaze came back to hers.
He flew into motion.
His pants were down.
Boxers next.
Fisting his dick, he groaned as he looked down on Hanna’s bare body, relaxed and satisfied from her orgasm.
“This is going to be fucking embarrassing,” he panted. “I’m going to come way too damn quick.”
“Then fucking come,” Hanna said, her eyes glued to the way he pumped himself to a finish, then captivated by his face as he came all over her tits, warm ropes of his come spraying her as he roared.
“Fuck, shortcake,” he groaned as the last of his finish poured over her. “You trying to fucking kill me?”
No, you’re trying to kill me , Hanna thought. Nobody had ever taken care of her—sexually or otherwise—the way Tucker did. Nobody ever made her feel this way, period. She’d never had orgasms like this—never had sexual experiences even close to comparable. And it might be just enough to either scare the shit out of her or do something even more stupid like fall in love with him.
Tucker’d never come like that.
Never had sex like that.
Fuck if Hanna wasn’t ruining him for every other woman on this planet.
Fuck if he didn’t mind.
After helping her clean up, they’d finished eating breakfast and settled back in bed, where she now rested her head on his bare chest, her lips tipped up in a half-smile.
“What are you thinking about, shortcake?”
Her eyes flitted up to him, then she sighed. “My sister. And Madi. Just excited to see them at Christmas.”
“Yeah? Got anything special planned?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, tugging her closer.
“Just the usual. Friends reruns. A gingerbread house competition. Lots of eating.” She sighed. “I miss them.”
Tucker’s heart ached. He knew Hanna was lonely. Knew she missed her sister and her best friend something fierce.
“What about you? Any special holiday plans?” Hanna asked, her fingers twiddling with small dustings of chest hair before she pressed a gentle kiss to his bicep.
“Shawn and I usually watch as much football as we can stomach before heading to Flora-Bama on New Year’s Eve,” he said before he could think about it, referring to Orange Beach’s legendary beach bar and club.
“Oh yeah?” Hanna smirked. “And what do you do at Flora-Bama?”
He felt his cheeks burn. “Well, usually we pick up some tourists. But this year, I’ll just be his wingman.”
“No tourists for you?” She said, turning her head away from him, and he could practically feel the insecurity radiating off of her.
“Nah,” he said, tipping her chin up to him with his thumb and forefinger, pressing a kiss against her lips. “Not interested in anyone besides the girl responsible for Burpgate.”
Hanna pressed her palms against her face, her body shaking with laughter. “God, I am never going to live that down.”
“Nope,” he responded, popping the p, grateful she seemed to have let go of any concerns about his New Year’s plans. “What are you gonna do on New Year’s? Besides wishing you could kiss me at midnight, of course.”
She rolled her eyes up at him, but her lips twitched. A few beats of silence passed before she responded.
“I have a tradition I do by myself.” She bit her lip. “Every year, at midnight, I walk to our town’s square and throw a coin into the fountain and make my wish for the year. It’s cheesy, and kinda dumb, but it’s just… like a reset, for me. A reminder of what matters. Perspective on what’s changed since last year, and where I hope to be next year.”
He toyed with a piece of her hair, twiddling it between his fingers.
“What’d you wish for last year?” He asked.
She looked up at him with a grin, “Can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”