Chapter 26
Autumn
I don’t move for a long time. That’s two insanely good orgasms he’s given me now, the kind that rock your whole body and leave you completely wrung out.
When I can finally control my limbs again, I sit up to find him watching me with amusement.
“Please leave a review so we know how we’ve performed for you,” he intones.
I snicker. “Is it out of three? Five? Ten?”
“I mean, any of the above is fine, just bear in mind that anything less than the highest rating will be considered a failure by management.”
“Thirteen of ten, would recommend,” I say. “Five stars. This customer-service agent went above and beyond.”
“Above, below—”
“—inside. Hey,” I say. I roll onto my belly and scooch myself backward on the bed. “C’mere.”
“What.”
“Stand up. Yeah. And take a step closer. Two.”
He steps up to the edge of the bed so I’m gazing at his crotch. Speaking of thirteen of ten, would recommend. People would engage in international travel for this view. I reach for his belt. He pulls back slightly.
“Please, Tucker,” I say. “This is for me.”
“You want to—”
“I want to blow you,” I say. “I want your cock in my mouth. I want to suck on you till you come down my throat.”
“Oh, Jesus,” he says. “That fucking mouth.”
“Yes, that’s the point. Come and get it.”
He’s still resisting, pulling away, making it hard for me to unbuckle his belt. But I drag him closer and do it anyway. I open the button on his jeans, then the zipper. He’s so hard.
“May I?” I ask.
“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
It makes me smile. I reach for his hips and tug him close, and then I put my mouth on him. Just the tip at first, tasting the salty tang of him with delight. “Mmm,” I say. “Yum.”
“Autumn,” he warns.
I lick up and down, getting him wet for me, so I can take all of him into my mouth, so I can pull him even closer and draw him against the back of my throat. He groans, and I can feel him trying not to thrust.
I pull off. “It’s okay,” I say. “You can push a little. I’ll push back if it’s too much.”
And that’s how it goes: Tucker nudging the back of my throat, me taking him as deep as I can, breathing through my nose, wrapping one hand around his base and using the other to cup his balls.
It feels good to have something in my mouth; it feels good to lick and suck; it feels good to hear him groan and grunt and feel the struggle in his body as he tries to hold back.
And even better when he gives up the struggle and shouts as he begins to spasm against my tongue, coming long spurts in my mouth.
I let him soften against my tongue before I give him up. Even then he keeps one hand settled softly in my hair, the other on my breast, where he uses a thumb to rub my nipple back and forth. I could come again, could ride his thigh or his mouth or his hand there so fast—
He knows.
“Turn over. Lie back.”
Tucker lies down next to me and settles a hand between my legs, one steady palm rubbing hot friction over my clit until I cry out.
Then he lies back, a self-satisfied expression on his face.
“I know you said it was for you,” he says.
“And I know you meant it. But it was—” He makes a face I can’t interpret, and I have no idea what he’s going to say until he says it.
“It was also for me. I let it…be for me. Because you were right. I wasn’t letting anything in my life be good.
You were right about the croissant. And—I chose the shittiest apartment in town I could find.
It felt”—his voice is rough—“like what I deserved.”
My heart breaks open for him, a rush of sorrow and affection.
“Tucker.”
He shakes his head. He doesn’t want my pity.
I bite my lip. “So basically, you won’t let anything in your life be good, and I won’t let anything in my life be bad.”
“That’s about the shape of it,” he says grimly. But it’s fond, too. Affectionate.
We both sit with that for a moment. I’ve always been the optimist. The one who jollies my father and sister out of their moods. I don’t know what it would mean for me to admit that I can’t do that right now.
It feels, frankly, terrifying.
“Hey,” he says. “You okay over there?”
“I don’t know if I know how to be…not-happy.”
“That’s okay,” he says. “I don’t know if I know how to be happy.” He reaches for my hand. “We can flail around together.”
I don’t know if I can get good at flailing, either, but the idea of trying it with Tucker at my side doesn’t sound so scary. It feels like such a big offer that I want to make one in return…and then I have an idea.
“You, um, want to come to prom with me?”
He smiles, a rare, glittering Tucker smile. “Absolutely.”
I know he has to say yes. It’s the terms of our arrangement. My dad is paying him to do it.
But it feels like he means something else, and my heart latches onto it and doesn’t want to let go.