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“But surely they’ll be backsometime,” I said, puzzled. “I mean, this apartment is so gorgeous, who wouldn’t want to live here?”
But Tucker shrugged.
“I know right? But it’s their life not ours. And you, baby girl, are moving in stat.”
And so my stuff was packed up and brought to the loft by movers the next day. Everything happened so quickly, I guess it was good that I’d never unpacked most of my things.
“Just put her things in the master bedroom,” Tucker directed authoritatively, pointing to a box of my personal items. “Everything into the master.”
And I just shook my head, sighing. Really? Seems like we were playing house right away, a man and wife snug in their home, taking care of each other, sharing each other’s bodies, each other’s lives. But the alpha male was authoritative, so sure of himself, that I found myself swept along with the tide, more breathless than anything, without time to reflect.
But I was adamant about at least one thing. I wasn’t giving up my place on the Lower East side no matter what Tucker said.
“Break your lease,” he growled when he found out. “Why pay rent when you’re living here now?”
I just sighed gustily.
“First,” I said, “We have no idea when your friends are going to be back so we’ll need a place to stay when they do.”
“Yeah but we could use a hotel,” he interrupted. “That’s what hotels are for.”
I shook my head. The big man seemed to have a completely different relationship with money than me, with the way he’d signed off on the thousand dollar moving bill, how nonchalant he was about putting up good money every night to rest our heads.
“Tucker, hotels are expensive and besides we couldn’t fit all this into a hotel room,” I said wryly, gesturing to the boxes. “We don’t havethatmuch, but still, this isn’t going to fit in one room.”
But the big man shrugged, unconcerned.
“We’ll find a way,” he said carelessly, “We’ll figure it out, it’s just logistics,” he winked. I shook my head, sighing. Of course, as part of the concierge industry, Tucker took all this in a stride, getting people and things to different places was his specialty after all. But the big man wasn’t done yet. He frowned at me for a moment, studying my outfit. I was dressed in a plain black skirt and white blouse for work, nothing fancy, my shoes a little scuffed but still serviceable.
“Baby girl, you don’t have many clothes, your things probablywouldfit in a hotel closet,” he said wryly. “In fact, I always see you wearing the same stuff and that’s no way for my best girl to live. Here,” he reached a big hand for his wallet. “Go shopping and buy yourself some nice outfits, treat yourself,” he said with a smile.
And I was touched to the bottom of my soul, but I couldn’t take money from a delivery man, someone who probably needed every cent he had. The offer of carte blanche was kind, but far too generous.
“I appreciate the gesture, I really do. But it’s okay,” I said gently. “City government’s not a fancy place, my clothes are fine for my job.”
But Tucker shook his head again, a stubborn frown appearing on that handsome face.
“No honey,” he growled low in his throat. “I see you wearing drab office clothes, and that’s not how my best girl lives. Buy yourself something new,” he said persuasively. “A couple new things, heck, a whole new wardrobe if you want. Here,” he said again, pressing the plastic into my hand. “Take it,” he growled roughly.
And my fingers closed because it was easier not to fight. Besides, I didn’t have to use it, the credit card could stay in my purse just to appease my lover. But as I curled my fist, I realized this item wasn’t your average rewards card. It wasn’t heavy for one, made of metal instead of plastic, and the surface was a matte metallic rose, glinting slightly in the light.
“What is this?” I asked curiously. I’d never seen something like this before, and I squinted a little, trying to read the print. The words read “JP Morgan” in script on the upper right corner, but everything else looked normal, just a Visa logo and a chip embedded on the left side.
“Yeah, pretty awesome, right?” said the big man, an eyebrow raised. “I get so much grief for the pink color, the guys are always saying that no real man would use it,” he said, rolling his eyes.
I squinted at the card again. It was incredibly beautiful and classy-looking, a deep grey overlaid with blush and I ran my fingers over the smooth, cold surface. Where did something like this come from? How did Tucker get it?
But the big man just chuckled, reading my mind.
“Baby, I get so many miles from that account, it’s like they’re payingmeto use it,” he said with a smirk. “Take it,” he added again persuasively. “Even if you don’t wanna buy more work clothes, at least buy some new lingerie for yourself babe. We’ve ruined so many of your panties, you must be down to nothing now.”
And I blushed, sliding his card in my purse. It was true, our sex play was often so adventurous, so naughty, that my panties got trashed all the time, not to mention that they were soaked through so often that I had to change in the women’s restroom at work so the smell wouldn’t alert my co-workers to my constantly wet cunt.
“Okay,” I murmured, nodding. “Will do,” I agreed with a shy nod.
And that was that. Tucker definitely had a way with words, a way of persuading me to do anything and everything he wanted, in bed and out.
But there was still the issue about my old apartment. I was determined to keep my place on the LES in case things didn’t work out, in case I needed a hidey-hole to lick my wounds, a retreat when the going got tough.
