24. Twenty-Four
I’m warm, so incredibly warm, and wildly comfortable right now. I feel as if I’ve burrowed into some other reality where nothing can get me.
Something shifts and the warmth swathed around me tightens. Tucker. I’m sleeping with Tucker right now. I let my eyes crack open, finding the thin fabric of the tent still mottled with moonlight, the harsh light of day still hours off.
He says something, but I can’t quite make it out. I’m not sure if it was actually words or just mumbling thick with sleep.
“Hmm?”
He responds with a groan, moving slightly, somehow pulling me closer into him. That same strong arm is still banded around me, but his fingers are tracing lazily across my stomach. The touch lighting up the nerves in my skin and sending a wave of heat through my core.
Sometime in the night I must have kicked my sleeping bag down, exposing the upper half of my body to the cool night air. My shirt has also lifted slightly, giving his hand direct access to my skin. Nothing about this moment is uncomfortable or unwanted, and I sigh into it, enjoying the feeling of his hand on me, as well as the reaction my body has to it.
That groan, now edging on a growl, sounds again, and his hand grips into me, in a tight, possessive grasp.
“Tucker?” My voice is a little shaky, breathy even.
He doesn’t respond, just lets out another strained noise. He has to be dreaming right now. He shifts again, and I’m fully aware of something hard digging into my backside.
“Hey, Tucker.”
“Mads…” he groans, my nickname falling sleepily out of his mouth and tangling into my hair.
“I think you’re dreaming, Tuck.”
“S’a good dream.” He nuzzles against the back of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
I’m convinced he’s gone back to sleep, that he’s slipped into a more restful state, no longer dreaming about whatever it is that’s got him so worked up, when his hand drifts lower, coming into contact with the elastic waistband of my shorts and tracing along it. My core twitches in response, my body eager in a way that my mind hasn’t caught up to yet.
This man behind me, moaning, caressing, and digging his erection into my back, pulls me into a new level of alertness. I’m tingling with anticipation, wanting his hand to dip lower, wanting to feel him everywhere and in ways I’ve never felt anyone before.
“Tucker,” I say his name with a little more force, hoping to wake him up. Wanting him to feel what he’s doing to me. Wanting him to make the decision to do it on his own.
“Huh? What’s up?” The words just barely coming out of his mouth.
“Wake up,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady as I stare at the wall of the tent. I can feel my breath coming in uneven huffs, my body alight in response to his.
He jerks, causing his hardness to rub against me again, this time in the cleft of my ass.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” He’s up now, a level of alertness underscoring how primed he is. Ready to fight or flee at a moment’s notice after yesterday’s events.
“No. No, everything is fine. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He groans, frustrated, and presses his forehead against the back of my head. “What’s up, Mads?”
“Well, you’re kind of…” I trail off, letting him figure out the arrangement of our bodies and the state he’s in.
“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry.” He starts to pull away, unfolding himself from the grip he’d settled into, shifting his arm off of me, and trying to create space between us.
“No.”
I grab his arm, not giving him the opportunity to retreat. I move his hand back, directly where it was before, on my stomach, inches from where I really want him. I grind back slightly, renewing the pressure between my ass and the hardest part of him.
He hums a pleasant sound, reveling in the friction I’m creating.
“Mads, no. I’m sorry, you’re trying to sleep.”
“I’m awake now,” I turn my head, barely able to see him out of the corner of my eye. “I want this, Tucker.” I finish the statement by pushing back against him again.
“Fuck.” He draws out the word, lost in the pressure I won’t release. I press down on his hand, urging him lower.
The elastic starts to shift, catching on his fingers. He freezes, stopping my advances, not letting me shift him further down.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he whispers, his breath ragged against my neck.
“I know.”
“I need to know you want this. I need to hear you say you want this.” His forehead is pressed into my hair, his body shaking with restraint as he holds himself back.
“Tucker, please. I want this. I want you,” I beg quietly. The words sound pathetic, but there’s a power in this. I’m choosing this moment. I want whatever he can give me, and I want it now. Since they stole me from Omni, I’ve been given more opportunities to choose than ever before. I refuse to waste a single one of them.
“Fuck, Mads. Are you sure?” His hand moves back and forth along the tension of my waistband, betraying his verbal hesitation.
“Stop asking and touch me.”
He relents, pulling his other arm underneath me and reaching for my breast. Dragging his hand lower, he dips below the band of my shorts, his fingers trailing over my skin, tugging lightly on the patch of hair before trekking lower and finding my wetness. We both shudder at the contact.
“God damn it, Mads.”
He sits up abruptly, yanking on the sleeping bag that’s still shrouded around him. I wince, hearing a tear as the zipper gives against the force he’s exerting.
When he’s freed himself, he grabs ahold of the bottom of my mostly discarded sleeping bag and wrenches it away from me, fully baring my legs.
He crawls up, covering my body with his, his cock now pressed against my center, and I shiver with anticipation. His mouth skirts over mine, giving me one last chance to back out, one last moment to choose something else.
I lift my head, capturing his lower lip between my teeth, dragging him down and forcing him to be with me in this moment. My fingers twine into his hair greedily, unwilling to let him move away from me.
His hands trace up my sides, palming my breasts, and pulling the neckline of my tank top down, exposing them to the little slice of the world we’ve carved out for ourselves.
“Fuck, Mads,” he breathes against my mouth in between kisses and nips.
I push him away, just enough for me to pull the top over my head, and he stares at me, taking me in as much as he can before doing the same.
I’m awestruck looking at him. He’s not overly ripped like Ray or built like Silas, but he’s made up of clean lines and sleek muscle. There’s not an ounce of wasted space underneath his freckled skin.
I want to pull him back down onto me, not out of a desire to divert his attention, but because I want his warmth back, craving the weight of him centered over me once more.
He drapes himself across my body, but doesn’t connect with my mouth. Instead, he draws a line of languid kisses down my neck, across my collarbones, and back up the other side.
“Can I?” He drags his teeth along my neck, and shivers wrack through my body.
“What?” I don’t understand, it might be because my mind is so focused on the sensations across my body and the man dragging them out of me.
“Can I mark you, Madeline?” My name, my full name, on his lips in that husky tone short circuits something inside me.
“Yes, please,” I beg, not wholly sure how he’ll do it, but the thought of this moment, this night, following me around for days sends a new wave of heat through me. I throw my head back to give him more space and he takes the opportunity immediately. Biting and sucking and kissing and lavishing me with his tongue. He’s still pressed against me, and with each small movement he makes, I can feel him growing impossibly harder.
When my throat is marked to his liking, he drags himself downward, his mouth not missing an inch. Every spot he touches with his perfect mouth leaves a burst of fire on my skin, which quickly cools, heightening the experience. I’m a map of warm and cool points, all dotted along my upper torso, and my skin erupts in goosebumps.
His hands are still on my breasts, kneading and touching as if he’s cataloging them, making sure not to miss a single detail of how they feel, how I fill his palms, how I react to each touch. His lips close around my nipple, licking and biting at it just hard enough for me to gasp. My back arches into his touch, and I’m forced back down with a hand on my sternum, keeping me still so he can continue his exploration.
I whimper and whine under his touch, under his mouth. Every coherent thought is being diligently wrung out of me. I don’t know where we’re going from here, but the ache in my core is growing. Becoming more insistent, more demanding, by the second.
“Patience, Madeline,” he chides, refusing to change his pace, to hurry himself while he’s learning the terrain of my body.
He moves down my stomach, taking the same care to make sure every minute movement of his mouth is punctuated by a kiss or a lick or a bite. His touches feel so reverent, even when he’s drawing gasps or quiet winces from the pinch of his teeth.
Tucker’s journey doesn’t stop when he reaches my shorts. He continues as if they’re not there, kissing and biting at the fabric, bringing a new level of sensation, especially as he reaches the apex of my thighs. Licking over my center and drawing a circle over my clit with his tongue.
I arch up, my nerves catching on fire and the muscles of my core clenching around nothing. He pushes me down again, tsking at my impatience.
He’s spread my legs now, settling himself between them, giving the same attention to the insides of my thighs, and I worry I’m going to combust right here in this tent. Taking both of us out in a fiery blast.
He bites my thigh, and I jump, my fuzzy mind not expecting the sudden jolt of pain which is quickly soothed away with another kiss and brush of his tongue.
When I’m about to burst, unable to take his continued teasing, he finally grants me mercy, pulling away my shorts and discarding them to the corner of the tent. The cool night air caresses my center, and I shudder with anticipation. He doesn’t take his eyes off me for a second. Between my body and my face, all his attention is seated securely with me and my pleasure. It’s the most powerful I’ve ever felt.
He watches my expression carefully as he dips lower, savoring every subtle shift I make, every plea I let out, desperate for release at his hands.
His lips make contact with my sex and even that small moment, that small connection, sends shockwaves throughout my body. His moan is guttural when he finally tastes me, savoring the wetness that’s there because of him.
He’s lost in me now, alternating between lapping with the flat of his tongue and swirling with the tip of it. His hands are holding my legs apart, not allowing me an inch to wriggle or shy away from the sensations he’s painstakingly delivering to me. His moans do nothing to cover my own.
I’m drowning in pleasure, crying out his name, calling to God, fisting my hands in his curls and writhing around like I’m being tortured. I think I am. Every second of this is the sweetest torture I’ve ever experienced.
I can feel myself begin to tighten, every bit of me being compressed down to an inch between my legs until he slips two fingers inside of me and pumps them slowly.
I’m gone.
All of my senses have abandoned me, and I’ve been thrown into an alternate reality where it is just me, the man between my thighs, and this explosive bliss I’m being subjected to. Nothing else matters.
The sensation builds and crashes, only to form another wave before the first has settled. I’m being pulled apart and pieced back together with agonizing precision.
“One more, Mads. Just give me one more,” he commands, almost dreamily, with his lips still pressed against my center.
“I don’t think-” I pant, my body trembling. My hesitation doesn’t deter him, he’s back at it, maintaining his punishingly patient pace. Diverting all my thoughts, forcing any doubt out of my mind.
He inserts another finger, giving me that delicious stretch I love, but takes it out quickly before pressing it gently against the ring of muscle at my ass.
“Oh my god.” My thoughts scatter, the swirling of his tongue, his moans, the fingers working inside of me, and the finger being pushed slowly into my ass sends me over the edge. I’m falling, entirely lost to the dizzying array of sensations flooding my nervous system.
I’m wrung out; everything that was inside of me, every bit of pleasure I could possibly contain, has been meticulously dragged out of me.
He pulls himself back up my body following the same path, but this time moving at a less leisurely, more deliberate pace. He kisses me, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. His taste, my taste, is incredible.
“Please, Tucker, I want you inside of me. I need to feel you,” I beg, the words broken up between kisses.
“I don’t have any condoms.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“No, I don’t want-”
“Look at me.” I pull back, looking into his eyes, seeing the desire, the fire within them. “It. Doesn’t. Matter.” I emphasize every word, trying to convey everything I don’t want to say. That I want this. That I’ve never done anything like this. That I don’t need contraceptives; something that was discovered when I came of age in the facility and they couldn’t force me to create more freaks like myself.
“Are you sure you want this?”
“Please, Tucker.”
He captures my mouth with his again, taking his time before undressing fully.
I can’t help but stare. This is the first time I’ve seen a dick, and holy shit. It doesn’t disappoint. I don’t have any frame of reference, but it’s incredible. The size, the veins, the pink head matching his lips, the bead of liquid gathered at the tip, everything about it is unlike anything I expected. More than anything, I want it inside of me, and I want it there now.
He smiles at my reaction, my eagerness, but he doesn’t give me what I want. Not immediately. He strokes himself, pumping his fist over the length.
I buck my hips up, reminding him exactly what I want, and he leans forward, kissing me, but his hand is still on his cock, still pumping slowly. The tip of it touches my opening, lingering there for a second, before he slowly starts to push in.
I wince against his lips, and he pauses the push, but I’m not having it. I shift enough to seat him further into me, only an inch, but it’s enough to make him groan. He twitches inside of me, sending another wave of heat through my center, before pushing the rest of the way in.
We both pant as he sinks down, pressing his weight into me once he’s fully inside. He trembles from the restraint of letting me get used to the fullness of our connection.
I take a few breaths, reveling in the fullness. “Okay,” I whisper as I nod with our foreheads pressed together.
He starts to move in earnest now, pumping into me at a torturously slow pace. He’s kissing my neck again, having given up on kissing me fully, my mouth stuck agape between pants and moans and gasps.
He reaches between us, caressing my swollen clit, pulling me once again to the edge of release. Right as I’m getting close, as my muscles start to flutter around him, he loses all control. His thrusts become harder, faster. Again, I’m launched into another dimension, my eyes screwing shut as the world disappears around us.
I fall back into my body as he reaches his edge. After a final, vicious thrust, he pulls out and releases onto my stomach and my sex, groaning though his own orgasm.
He drops his head forward and breathes deeply, the picture of a sated man having taken us through our pleasure fully.
Tucker takes a moment to stare, to look at the mess, like it’s a beautiful piece of art we’ve created together. His fingers trace lazily over the white spots he’s left over my stomach, swirling it over one of the red splotches he’s given me. He’s marked me in more ways than one tonight, and I couldn’t be happier.
He reaches over, grabbing a shirt and gently starts to clean me.
“Hey, Tuck?” I say when he settles back down, twining his arms around me once more.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for setting up the tent,” I whisper into the darkness, staring up at the thin swath of fabric separating us from the world as the shadows continue to dance around us.
“Any time, Mads.” He kisses me on the shoulder and settles in, ready to drift back off into sleep.