Chapter 8 - Marley
I'm making the same mistake I made in the city.
The thought flashes through my mind as Tucker pulls me through the house, his hand tight around mine, his other hand already reaching for the buttons on my sweater. Getting involved with someone I shouldn't. First my boss, now a client. I'm an idiot and will probably get hurt in the process.
But I can't stop myself.
My mind is flooded with images of his broad shoulders flexing as he touches me everywhere, those work-roughened hands on my skin, that mouth doing things I've only fantasized about. My panties are damp, pussy pleading to be touched, aching in a way I haven't felt in forever.
I want the man before me to claim me. To make me scream his name shamelessly.
We stumble into his bedroom: a simple space with a large bed, dark wood furniture, nothing fancy, and the moment the door closes behind us we don't waste a single second.
Tucker pulls my sweater over my head and tosses it to the floor. I yank at his flannel shirt, buttons popping, not caring where they land. His hands are on my jeans, unzipping them, sliding them down my hips while I work on his belt buckle with shaking fingers.
His jeans hit the floor. Then mine.
We're both standing there in our underwear. Him in normal black briefs, the outline of his cock clearly visible and throbbing, and me in my old, baggy panties and faded red bra that I've had for three years.
Fuck.
I feel awful. I never expected this to happen during the day, so I didn't come prepared.
I could have worn that new sexy black set I bought two weeks ago because I wanted to feel hot, the one with the lace and the little bows.
But I thought I'd go home before our Italian dinner, thought I'd have time to change into something that didn't make me look like I gave up on life.
"I'm sorry," I blurt out, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't look very good. These are just my everyday—"
Tucker shakes his head and reaches out, squeezing one of my ass cheeks hard enough to make me gasp. "You look incredible."
"But my panties are awful—"
He chuckles, a low, rough sound that goes straight to my core. "Why would I care about your panties when I'm about to take them off?"
Fuck.
He sounds like a totally different person now. The shy, jumbled Tucker who stumbled over his words on the hill is gone, replaced by someone confident and dominant. Someone who wants me and isn't afraid to show it.
And I love it.
I feel empowered by the fact that such a handsome man desires me. It's been so long since I felt wanted, since I felt pretty. Richard never looked at me the way Tucker's looking at me right now, like I'm something he needs to survive.
Tucker guides me to the bed's edge, and I sit down, my heart pounding. He kneels before me, those hazel eyes squinted with desire and starts kissing my knees.
Then he's kissing his way up my inner thighs, taking his time, and I love the pressure of his lips on my skin. Love the moment they touch me, and when they leave, sometimes with a soft popping sound, I miss them immediately.
And then he's right there, kissing my panties, his breath hot against the fabric. He places his hands on my legs, spreading them wider, and I can feel my pussy juices trickling, wetting my panties. I probably have a wet spot right in the middle, obvious and embarrassing.
But I don't care. The only thing on my mind right now is Tucker and what he's about to do to me.
He lies me back on the bed and slowly takes off my panties, sliding them down my legs, his eyes never leaving mine. Then I'm fully naked, exposed, pussy gleaming before him.
He takes a step back, and for a moment I think he's changed his mind. But then he says, "Your pussy looks fucking beautiful," and before I can thank him he's hopping onto the bed, dragging his tongue across his lips, and burying his face between my thighs.
He doesn't give me a chance to talk it out, doesn't ask permission.
He just feasts on my juicy pussy like a man starving.
I can feel his fingers digging into the flesh of my inner thighs as he laps his tongue all over my slit for a few seconds before moving to twirl his tongue around my swollen clit.
I arch my back, gripping the sheets as hard as I can. My other hand finds his hair and I pull him closer, harder, wanting him between my legs forever. Wanting him to inhale my scent, wanting him to lick me until he can't breathe.
Fuck. The pleasure is out of this world.
He never raises his head but his voice rumbles against my pussy: "I'm putting a finger in."
"Do it," I gasp. "Please—"
He starts fingering me. One finger, curved, slowly exploring. Then two fingers, filling me, moving faster, rubbing my G-spot while his tongue works my clit above.
It's too much to endure, pleasure building and building until I can't hold it back. I grab a pillow and scream into it as I orgasm, my stomach clenching, my whole body shaking.
Sweat trickles down my forehead, and Tucker finally stops and looks up at me. His beard is dripping with my juices, his eyes wide, but he's smiling.
"You taste incredible," he says. "I could do this every single day without getting tired."
I chuckle, saliva trickling down the corner of my mouth. "You shouldn't say that because I'll be wanting it."
"I hope so." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Because it's time for the main course now."
I don't take my half-lidded eyes off him as he hops off the bed and strips down until his thick cock is dangling before him. It's fucking big, the shaft coming from inside the dark hair that trails from his belly button down south. I even gulp dryly, both scared and eager for what's coming.
He strokes his cock in front of me. Long, slow strokes that make my pussy clench with anticipation before climbing back into bed and lining up his cock with my wet pussy.
I spread my legs as wide as I can. "Just put it in. Please, Tucker—"
He does, and I bite the pillow to keep from screaming. I'm so wet it slides in easily, but his cock fills me like nothing ever before. It's like a piece belonging to the same puzzle, fitting perfectly.
Now that he's on top of me, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him deeper. I want him buried to the hilt as I watch his muscles flexing beside my head, his hips going back and forth as he thrusts in and out.
Each time his cock leaves me, I miss it. And when he slams it right back in, I gasp and moan his name.
And the more I say his name, the harder and faster he fucks me.
Sweat drips from his hair onto my breasts, but he doesn't seem tired at all. His breathing isn't shallow like mine, and he never slows down. This is a real man—a rugged, handsome cowboy who knows exactly what he's doing.
I place a hand on his cheek and kiss it before whispering, "I want to get on all fours. It's my favorite position."
He slows down, pulls out, and helps me turn around and get on all fours. I put my face down on one of the pillows and push my ass up, ready and waiting.
I have no idea what's happening behind me, but I can feel his rough fingers squeezing my ass cheeks, spreading them, and then his cockhead is at my entrance, spreading my pussy as he fills me inch by inch.
He places his hands on my hips, tightening his grip, and then the bed starts creaking with the impact of his thrusts. He fucks me good, even grabbing my hair and slapping my ass, and fuck, I love the sting. It makes me feel alive, makes everything feel more real.
He keeps fucking me mercilessly until my legs start giving out. I'm exhausted. I haven't worked out in a while, and it's been so long since I had sex that my legs are trembling, muscles burning.
I collapse onto the bed, but Tucker doesn't stop. His body follows mine, and he keeps fucking me in a prone position, his cock going even deeper than before. He's hitting all the right spots, and I can't hold my second orgasm inside.
I cum, eyes rolling back, moaning so loud the walls must be trembling, and my pussy clenches, squeezing his cock.
That must trigger him because he's halfway through telling me he's close when I feel two hot loads of cum filling my insides. So warm, so thick, but I've never felt this claimed. I've never even let a man finish inside me before, but this is Tucker. It feels right.
"Fuck, I'm sorry—" he starts, but I cut him off.
"It's fine. But thrust a few more times. I love having you inside me."
He does as I request, and each time his cock goes deep, I have an aftershock, my whole body writhing. When he finally pulls out, I let out a loud sigh. I'm gasping, exhausted, barely able to string two words together.
Tucker sits beside me, running his hands through my hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Exhausted," I whisper. "But I haven't felt this happy in a while."
"Me too." His voice is soft, tender. "It feels like everything is finally going somewhere. The ranch is getting a second chance, Butterscotch is okay, Emma's happy, and now..." He pauses. "Now I've found someone worth fighting for."
I turn my head to look at him. "Tucker—"
"I mean it, Marley. I know this is fast, and I know we barely know each other, but I haven't felt this way in years. Maybe ever." He traces his fingers along my spine. "I want to see where this goes. If you do."
"I do." I reach up and touch his face. "I really do."
We lie there for a few more minutes, just breathing together, and then reality starts to creep back in. I'm sticky and sweaty and covered in cum, and I need to clean up.
"Where's the bathroom?" I ask.
"Down the hall, second door on the left."
I sit up slowly, my legs shaking, and start gathering my clothes from the floor. My panties are somewhere under the bed, my bra is hanging off the lamp… Jesus, we really went at it.
I pull on my jeans and sweater, not bothering with underwear because I can't find it and I'm too exhausted to look, and head for the door.