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“I know, Laurie Holmes, NYC Concierge has your credit card info. I know everything about you already,” he said with a sly smile.
And I flushed again. God, I hardly seemed in control of my body around this man, it was beyond crazy, so wild.
“Just wanted you to know,” I murmured, cheeks slightly pink. “Just in case, you know, for …”
But what for? I bit my lip. Here I was, completely nude in front of a man I’d met twice in my life, a man who’d sampled my pussy and ass, tasted me everywhere, taking my virginity, and yet I was tongue-tied, not sure what to say next. Because where were we headed next? What were we exactly? A quick fuck? A drive-by, much-needed form of stress relief? Suddenly, I felt a little sad. Sure, I couldn’t expect much but at the same time, it sucked to think that I meant nothing to Tucker, that I was just a momentary distraction and nothing else.
But Tucker surprised me. He slapped me on the ass, his big palm leaving a handprint that flashed pink and then melted, my skin growing hot as he pressed his lips to the mark.
“How about some pizza and beer tomorrow night?” he murmured against my white cheeks. “You free?”
I was silent for a moment. Was my delivery man asking me out? Like on a date, where we got to know one another, talked and exchanged information about each other, revealing ourselves? Something in my chest bloomed and I inhaled deeply, suddenly ridiculously happy, a smile wreathing my lips.
“Sure, I’d love to,” I murmured, looking up at him from between my lashes. “But after five okay? I don’t get off work until five.”
And he grinned at me.
“Don’t worry baby girl, I’ve gotta work during the day too,” he said, his voice like silk. “Seven okay with you?”
“Sure,” I smiled again. Oh fuck, but my nips were growing tight with need. I tried to hide it, shifting my forearm to press against my breasts but nothing escaped Tucker’s observation. He just pulled my arm away to drop a kiss on one tip, and then the other, before reaching for his pants, pulling them back on, hiding that magnificent staff from my view. I hadn’t realized I was staring, mouth probably open, hungry for that man meat because Tucker just laughed when he saw it.
“Oh you’ll get more of it, don’t worry baby girl,” he growled. “Just come over tomorrow night and you’re get your sweet fill, guaranteed,” he promised, his eyes on fire again. “But for now, I’ve got a couple more deliveries to make. Gotta roll, honey. The address is 501 Greenwich Street. Got it? Just remember 501, like Levi’s 501’s.”
And my forehead scrunched for a moment as I pulled up a mental map of the city. He was inviting me to his apartment? How sweet, New York apartments are so small so usually people hang out in bars and restaurants. Furthermore, street numbers in NYC are completely predictable and you can pinpoint where someone lives based on little information, and in this case I was coming up with a “non-compute.” I gazed at him, puzzled.
“Is that at the intersection of Greenwich and Venable?” I asked. “Right next to Bubby’s?” Bubby’s was a high-end breakfast place famous for its blueberry pie, but even more, Bubby’s was in the heart of Tribeca, the most expensive neighborhood in Manhattan. Tucker lived there? How could he afford it? Well, maybe he was splitting the rent with five guys, sharing a huge loft partitioned into multiple living spaces.
But the delivery man just dropped a kiss on my forehead, pulling on his baseball cap, shielding his face once more, only that strong jaw visible.
“Yep, right next to Bubby’s,” he confirmed, picking up his gear. “Now I gotta roll, customers are waiting.” And with a wink, he was gone, my front door clicking shut behind him. And I sprawled on my bed, lying back, my hair a mess on the pillow, my body completely sated and relaxed, but slowly starting to hum once again. Because I couldn’t wait to see him, couldn’t wait to get to know Tucker … and sample that big body once more.
12
Tucker
Isauntered into the office, whistling quietly, coolly confident as always.
My cousin turned to look at me, swiveling on his stool.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Hunter asked.
I just ignored him, throwing my shit down on my desk before sprawling in a chair. Man, I was sore like I’d been working out for hours, but it wasn’t from the gym. Oh no, I was wrung out from being buried in my best girl’s pussy, that cunt so tight, so small, that it sucked every last sperm out of me, draining me to the last drop. Fuck and it felt so good, I couldn’t wait to see Laurie again for more.
Hunter strode by my desk, dropping a sheaf of papers.
“Orders are up by fifty percent,” he said, “We gotta hire more staff.”
I leaned back in my chair, hands behind my head, stretching, twisting my neck. Fuck, that girl had me bent out of shape, I’d probably pulled a muscle from the sex games alone.
“Sure,” I grunted. “We can afford it, easy.”
Hunter just looked at me, shaking his head.
“Seriously man, as CEO of this place you’d think you’d want to run the numbers first or at leastasksomeone to run the numbers for you before making a decision. I mean aren’t you afraid that you’re wrong, that you’re dragging us into some black hole?”
But I shrugged my shoulders. I was on top of the numbers every day, I knew exactly where NYC Concierge stood in terms of staffing and expenses, our revenues versus our profits. Even if it didn’t look like I was paying attention, I was on the dashboard constantly, scrutinizing our figures like a hawk. Besides as our COO, it wasHunter’sfucking job to bring me the numbers, help me make informed decisions.
“These the spreadsheets?” I asked, eyeing the sheaf of paper.
