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“This place belongs to some friends of mine,” he threw out casually. “They’re letting me housesit while they travel in Europe, probably sunning themselves on a big white yacht in the Mediterranean,” he said wryly. “Hey, some folks caught the internet boom and made a bunch of cash back in the day, it was good times all around.”
And I chewed nodding. I remembered when the papers always seemed to be filled with some young billionaire with a baby face.
“I know,” I said wistfully. “But it passed me by. I mean look at me,” I said gesturing to myself. “I work in City government and am barely paid minimum wage, I only wish I were one of the lucky ones.”
Tucker frowned a little before speaking.
“You tell me if you need any money, okay honey?” he said softly, his eyes fixed on mine. “You let me know right away.”
And before I could open my mouth to protest, he went on.
“Besides, I dunno,” he said slowly. “Having a shit-pile of money doesn’t mean you have it all. I mean, these are friends of mine, so I know them pretty well and they’re not exactly the happiest dudes on earth. They still have problems, just different ones,” he shrugged. “Nothing that you or I would understand or even care about, but problems just the same.”
I was quick to agree.
“Oh of course,” I nodded, “Yeah, absolutely. Too much money never solved anything, and I’m a girl who’s perfectly happy with pizza and beer,” I said with a smile.
The big man’s eyes darkened then, a warm fist descending over mine, gripping my fingers, his eyes eating me up hungrily, appreciatively.
“I know,” he growled deep in his chest. “That’s one of the things I love about you little girl,” he said. “It doesn’t take much to make you happy, just a pizza, some beer, some shampoo and laundry detergent. Not even the fancy stuff, just the regular brands,” he rumbled.
I giggled at that.
“Why, do some of your customers order stuff that’s way overpriced?” I asked curiously. “Shampoo from the department store, that kind of thing?”
The big man just snorted, sitting back in his chair.
“Worse,” he said with a wry pull of his mouth. “They order laundry detergent from France, shit that costs ten times what it should. Can you imagine? Instead of Tide or whatever, they’re using some imported stuff just because it’s from France. Not to mention the bottled water,” he added, shaking his head. “They’re washing their clothes in bottled water, believe it or not.”
And I was astounded.
“Really?” I asked, mouth dropping open. I’d never imagined that people lived like this, going to such extreme lengths, this was way beyond my realm of experience. I mean, there were rumors that A-list actresses sometimes washed their hair in Evian, but I’d never imagined that there were people so rich that they washed their dirty clothes in bottled water, that was going beyond the pale.
And half in jest, I asked, “So do these special folks order their garbage bags from Italy then? Like special, scented garbage bags that smell of olives and wine?”
The big man nodded again.
“Honey, these folks are nuts,” he confirmed. “Seriously batshit crazy in some cases, with their priorities all wrong. If I weren’t their delivery man, I wouldn’t believe it myself, but trust me, I’ve seen it all.”
I laughed softly then, taking his hand in mine.
“Well better them than us,” I murmured. “It’s their lives, not ours, and it’s not our business. Hey, I support Made in America and I’m happy to do my part.”
And the big man gave me another long look before kissing me, drawing me to sit in his lap, his strong arms like steel bands around my form, comforting, ensconcing me in a safe place.
“And that’s what I love about you,” he growled against my jaw. “You’re so sweet, so loyal, so real and I can’t get enough of it,” he said while claiming my lips for another deep kiss.
Sighing deeply, I melted then, dissolving against his big form, feeling my muscles go limp as my cunt heated up, my insides beginning to sizzle. Oh god, oh god, Tucker always had this electric effect on me, the way he made me cream instantly, the way he could play my body like a violin. So I nipped at his ear, biting lovingly, teasing my tongue along his jaw.
“Tucker,” I breathed. “I want you. Fuck me hard tonight, I need you bad.”
And he just chuckled, sweeping me into his arms, our mouths locked together as he carried me into his bedroom, the giant space decked out in deep navy, dark wood furniture, the décor totally masculine, totally Tucker. Maybe he didn’t live here permanently, but this place definitely reflected his personality, commanding, assertive, an alpha male at ease.
“You don’t need to ask twice, little girl,” he rasped against my mouth before setting me down. “Your wish is my command.”
And I moaned then, stroking my breasts, playing with myself. Of course I wanted his dick in my pussy, after all I’d just had my cherry popped and I wanted to feel that blunt shaft in my moist recesses again. But when I said I was a dirty girl, I meant triple X dirty, not soft core porn. Because I’d seen something in a video that I wanted to replicate.
“Tucker, honey,” I murmured slyly, looking up between my lashes. “Get your dick out.”
