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And I senselessly do.
I scratch and bite and buck.
I scream until my voice is hoarse and raw.
I meet him thrust for thrust lost to the hypnotic way we move when we’re together and a slave to the salacious swirling that incessantly caresses my clit. Groans and grunts and grumbles are the different buckets of paint I can’t stop doing everything it takes to dip my hands into, including digging my nails into his ass cheeks. Our bodies twist and tangle so tightly that we stop being two different people, two different mediums, and fuse into one erotic entity hellbent on overwhelming every artist and any artist who could ever even dream of our existence.
Counting orgasms is a futile task for me, but the second Tuck’s body slightly falters I know the final one is upon me. Desperate to feel what I can hardly believe I’m capable of, I bury both my hands into his messy, damp strands and tug while demanding. “Let go, Tuck.” The second yank is much harder almost as if I’m trying to pull him past where logic says is possible and into the very roots of where passion is born. “Come for me like I’m the only one for you.”
Barbarous howls manage to escape through Tucker’s bared teeth at the same time his entire body trembles. Sweltering surges swell the barrier, threatening to destroy it, and the idea for some reason not only convinces me to come but to lift my hips up as high as they’ll got to seal the contents inside.
To assist in creating what would be an undeniably beautiful mixture of us.
No, I’m not purposely trying to get pregnant with my boss’s nephew’s baby, but something, somewhere inside of me can’t deny how right the idea is.
Like it’s meant to be.
Like we’re meant to be.
Is that Fate?
Is she finally working in my favor or is this simply a birthday high needing to wear off?
Chapter 11
Tucker
I lean back into my patio chair, cell pressing tightly to my ear, at the same time I hold my open palm out for Koose Koose to scoop up his morning oats. “Pass.”
“Topless, Tuck!” Edie enthusiastically exclaims. “They let you sculpt them topless in the town square!”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.”
“Did you, though?” He callously questions from the other end of phone. “Because it doesn’t feel like you did. Because I said topless, and you didn’t even hesitate to turn me down. Twice.”
“It’s not what I'm looking for.”
“How can it not be what you’re looking for, Tuck?” His irritation causes me to chuckle. “It’s tits. Every man not playin’ for the same team is lookin’ for tits.”
Yeah, not when you’ve got a pair like the ones I had to pry myself away from last night.
Well.
This morning.
Sunrise on the horizon tells me we left yesterday fucking and started today doing the same.
Truthfully, fucking feels like an inaccurate term. I mean, yes. There were definitely moments where I wish we would’ve pulled out my phone and created adult art so to speak but other times? Other times, it was…I don’t know. More…celestial? And I’ve engaged in tantric sex. Some long and phenomenal sessions. The type people spend their whole life hoping to have yet what June and I did was…beyond that.
Pretty sure my fucking soul came.
That’s never happened before.
And I’m kind of worried about what it means.
“Fine,” Edie concedes on an over dramatic groan as I dust the last of the oats off my hand onto the patio. “I’ve got a couple more spins on The Wheel of My Fortune.”
Of course, he wants me to pick somewhere new.
He doesn’t get paid by me otherwise.
“There’s the annual A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte festival. This year it has a Ferris Bueller’s Day Off theme.”
“Pass.” Tucking my arm behind my head, I focus on the beautiful light in the distance. “I went last year. While I didn’t love The Simpsons theme, I loved even less the conversations about the piece we were there to celebrate or criticize depending on where your allegiance lies of course.”
He releases another heavy sigh. “There’s a geese photo hunt out in Canada.”
“Nope. Got a goose right here I’m pretty happy with.”
Koose Koose honks in agreement.
Was never big on having a pet but have always loved making friends with creatures in their natural environments.
“You’re not talking about a woman’s ass, are you?”
“Negative.”
We exchange a small round of chuckles prior to him letting out an exasperated breath a second time. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground then. So far, there’s just been a little chatter about some bikini paint bubble shit in Reno-”
“No.”
“-and something aquatic thing at the Georgia Aquarium.”
The second suggestion receives a contemplative hum.
Dad used to love that song “Midnight Train to Georgia”. We’re talking belting his fucking heart out. Man…there is nothing in this world like seeing a man who was once an active Marine, who could dissemble and reassemble a rifle in record timing, and snipe the cork off a wine bottle, sing like he actually believed he was Gladys Knight.
