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We both grin.
I’m beginning to think Jillian is trying to tell me something.
Thirty
SOUNDPROOFING FOR THE WIN
Ophelia
The door is locked, the lighting is low, and Tucker is looking at me with a hunger that has my desire rapidly swirling into a whirlpool.
We are two consenting adults in a soundproof room, and I want more than a kiss.
I take the lead, kissing him until I can’t breathe, rolling my hips against his erection as though he’s always been mine. Our hands move greedily over bare skin and clothing until the need to stay conscious forces us apart, gasping for air.
“How long have you been awake?” He’s stalling, being a gentleman, waiting for me to change my mind.
“A couple of hours.”
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Can’t get me out of your head, Hamlet?” We are back to casual name-calling.
“Royal, you wish,” I lie. Badly.
Tucker rumbles, “Shagspeare, do I need a condom?”
I inhale a steadying breath and nod, melting for this man. “I want this.”
His hands move up my body, roughly tangling in my bed hair; he’s claiming this moment.
I am over trying to fight the lust. Leaning forward, I crush my lips against his, moaning my desire into his mouth. “Hurry up and find a giant condom.”
“Would you forgive me if I know there are five in my guitar case?”
“Better safe than sorry.” He has a life. I can’t fault him for taking care of business when he’s with a lady.
“Hold on.” Tucker stands, cupping my ass, and walks to an open acoustic guitar case resting on the baby grand piano. “How many do we need?” He smiles wickedly.
I scoop out three packets of extra-large condoms. Well, it isn’t a lie.
“Christ, Shagspeare, you are greedy,” he growls against my lips before devouring my mouth until we can no longer breathe.
We aren’t tip-toeing around with foolish words. Lust needs to get fed.
Tucker puts me on my feet, stripping the pajama shorts from my body with his deft hands, his man boxers I am wearing, coming along for the strip show.
His throaty sound of appreciation spurs me to lose his leather jacket and then the camisole, baring myself, except for the knee-high socks.
“I want to take you in only my leather jacket.” He scoops it off the floor and helps me back into it. “Two choices: bent over the baby grand or riding my cock on the couch?”
“Both. Let’s get creative” I wave the three condom packets. “Stamina goals.” I might as well go all-in if I’m diving off the deep end.
“Vixen, I’m up for the challenge. Baby grand first.” He cups my bare arse, lifting me onto the top of the piano, my socked feet hitting the keys with a haphazard musical staccato as his arse hits the bench seat. “Ever seen Pretty Woman?” Tucker spreads my legs, cursing softly under his breath at my glistening bare pussy.
His finger grazes a trail over my lower abdomen. “You have a scar. I haven’t noticed this before,” he murmurs under his breath.” He looks up at me with his brow furrowed. Concern wipes the desire away. “The accident?”
Shit.“Um, yes. Let’s not talk about that now.” His finger gently follows the line of a traumatic memory, which I push back inside the box I have placed it in. “It’s nothing.” I brush his concern to the side.
