AMBER #2
“Yes, it’s Tucker Braddock with a reservation for two,” Tucker replies easily.
The man in the suite scans the list in front of him, smiles and then says, “Right this way, Mr. Braddock.”
We’re shown to a finely decorated, candle-lit table on a balcony that overlooks the bay and handed two leather bound menus.
One look at the selection of foods on offer tells me I’m way out of depth.
I glance at Tucker, to see he is frowning too. “What the hell is a Confit de canard?” he whispers.
I shrug my shoulders and a small giggle escapes my lips. “How the hell am I supposed to know? I studied Spanish, not French, at High School. I thought you chose this place because you’d come here before.”
“No, I only made reservations here to impress you,” Tucker admits.
The confession hangs in the air for a moment -- he’s trying to impress me?! -- before Tucker’s eyes widen, and he adds, “Ah, here’s something I know. The Green Fairy. But I don’t think absinthe alone would make a suitable dinner.”
This time I don’t suppress the giggle. “No, probably not. What do you want to do then? We could use our phones to translate the menu or something?”
Tucker shakes his head. “Nah, do you mind if we go somewhere else?”
I smile. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
Tucker throws down a handful of bills to pay the restaurant for our trouble, and we quickly slip out without drawing too much attention to ourselves.
As we walk back to the car, Tucker says, “I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“Gone on a date.”
We both laugh.
“I thought you’d want to be wined and dined. Most women I’ve slept with do.”
I take a step closer to Tucker. “Tucker, I didn’t agree to go to dinner with you because I was hoping you’d take me to some over-the-top, pretentious French restaurant. That’s not my style. I agreed because I wanted to get to know you.”
Tucker’s eyes widen like he’s never had anyone say something like this to him before.
Has he?
I know he doesn’t take women out often, but surely this isn’t his first, real date, is it?
I don’t want to make things awkward, so I quickly slip into the car, and wait for Tucker to join me. As he slides in next to me, he asks, “So, if over-the-top, pretentious French restaurants aren’t your thing, where do you want to go?”
With a giggle I reply, “Honestly, I’d be happy with a good burger and fries.”
“What’s your opinion on ice cream milkshakes,” Tucker asks.
“Strawberry or vanilla?”
“Always strawberry,” Tucker insists with a grin, and then asks his driver to take us to the closest diner.
We look completely out of place in our lavish outfits, but I find myself not caring, as Tucker and I sit in a booth opposite each other, and he enlightens me to the joys of dipping hot, fresh, salty, fries in a cold, sweet strawberry milkshake.
Over dinner, we chat about everything and anything, and the conversation doesn’t slow down even when we get back in the car, and head for home.
As my house is on the opposite side of town, we pass Tucker’s beachside house first, and I realize I have an important decision to make. If Tucker asks me to spend the night, will I say yes?
Something tells me this is way more serious than just a booty call. This feels like the first step on the road to something special.
I know if I walk away now, there won’t be another chance. This is it. Make or break time.
As the car slows, Tucker turns to me, and asks, “Do you want to spend the night?”
My heart pounds in my chest. “Yes.”
Tucker grins and gets out of the car. After paying the driver, he opens the door and offers me his hand.
We make our way up the short walkway, and the moment Tucker closes the front door behind us, his lips are on mine, and my hands are clawing to tear his suit off.
Within a matter of moments, we’re both completely naked. I love the feel of Tucker’s smooth, taut skin under my fingertips, and I trace the pattern of the tattoos that spread up Tucker’s arms, and then out across his shoulders and onto his chest.
Lifting me as though I weigh nothing, Tucker grips my ass, and pushes me up against the door. My legs instinctively wrap around his hips, and his hands drip down to stroke my core. I feel my clit throb as Tucker swipes a finger across it, and I let out a mewling cry.
“I want you,” I breathe desperately.
“How much?” Tucker’s lips trail across my neck, sending a thrill of delight down my spine.
“So bad.” I grip his cock, and position it at my entrance.
With one swift thrust, Tucker pounds inside of me, and I let out a cry as I shatter.
Tucker slows his pace, as the pieces of me drift back together, and we fall into a slow, and sensual rhythm. Tucker lowers his head, his mouth trailing down my throat, and to my breasts.
He buries his head between them, and licks from one nipple to the other.
He fucks me at a slow and steady pace, filling me completely. I love that he’s strong enough to hold me and keep me pinned against the wall. As our bodies come together again and again, I open my eyes and study the details of his tattoos.
At some point, Tucker must open his eyes too, because his gaze locks with mine. And in that instant, something feels different. This is the third time we’ve had sex now. The first two times we fucked like the horny, drunk young adults we are. It was all raw, animalistic passion.
This time, the passion is still there, but there’s something more.
I’m not ready to face what the more is yet though, so I close my eyes, and continue to enjoy the feeling of Tucker pounding into me, his mouth once again seeking out my breasts.
I feel my core tighten, and then stars explode behind my eyelids, as an earth-shattering orgasm engulfs my entire body.
Once we’re fully sated, Tucker leads me up to his room, and we tumble into bed. Despite having only just finished, it isn’t long before our hands seek out each other’s bodies again, and soon, we’re ready for round two.
-----
I wake early the next morning, my body aching in the most delicious way and I cannot wait to spend the day with Tucker.
I slowly sit up, and wait for him to wake up too, before I say, “I need to pop home for a bit, and make sure Elsa is okay. But I was thinking you could join me for her walk, and then we could grab some breakfast?”
Tucker gazes at me intently for a moment, then sighs. “Sorry, I can’t. I have surfing practice this morning.”
Trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice, I say, “That’s okay. Maybe we could grab lunch later or something.”
There’s a beat of silence that tells me all I need to know. I was wrong. This wasn’t about Tucker wanting to get to know me. This was just another booty call, only this time cleverly disguised as a date.
Before I can embarrass myself further, I climb out of bed, and start pulling on my clothes.
“Amber, wait. It’s not like that,” Tucker insists, but I don’t give him a chance to explain.
I was a fool for thinking this was anything more than sex. It’s obvious to me now that I like Tucker way more than he likes me, and that sooner or later, he’s going to move onto someone new, and leave me heartbroken.
With my dress barely covering my body, I hurry downstairs, leaving Tucker to scramble into his boxers and chase after me.
But I don’t want to cause a scene. As Tucker tumbles down the stairs half naked, I stand firm. “Tucker, last night was fun, but we both know this isn’t going to last.”
Tucker frowns, and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can get the words out, I rush out the front door.
I hurry down the driveway, fighting back tears, because I will not cry over Tucker Braddock.