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He ran a hand up my thigh, over the growing bulge in my shorts, as I stopped in front of him. My dick leapt at the brief contact, hips angling forward, chasing the sensation as his fingers trailed upward, following the waistband of my shorts and skimming the bare skin of abs that flexed automatically with the caress. He held my gaze as he grabbed the top of my shorts and yanked them down. My cock popped free, hard and ready for the hand he wrapped around it.
I stifled a moan as he stroked me slowly, tried to ignore the precum that beaded up on my slit when he tightened his grip, but I lost the battle and let out a quiet huff of pleasure as he ran his thumb along my crown, spreading the slickness. Arching into the sensation, I barely registered that I’d let a hand fall to his shoulder, that my fingers caressed the bare skin of his collarbone, moving around to the smooth skin of his neck, flexing and contracting of their own volition as he jerked me.
“Eager,” Tucker murmured and leaned back, which was the wrong direction. I wanted that mouth, that smirk, so much closer than it was. I wanted it wrapped around my cock and his caustic tongue licking up my shaft. When I responded by increasing the pressure of my fingers on the back of his neck, urging him closer, he chuckled but relented, and the warm exhalation over the head of my cock was almost as good as his mouth. Almost.
“Jesus, get on with it,” I whispered, a mix of frustration and anticipation as he flicked his tongue out and it barely touched the tip of my cock. His hand was still moving leisurely up and down my shaft, and it was evident the fucker was going to take no small amount of pleasure in making me wait.
Closing my eyes against his smirk, I let the sensations wash over me, the darts of wetness where he pressed his lips or glided his tongue on my skin, the spike of pleasure when he gripped me harder and gave me one blissful second of suction before pulling off again. As much as I hated to admit it, Tucker was as good in the bedroom as he was on the field and just as focused. Within moments, I was close to coming unhinged, and when I was afraid I’d come too soon, I gripped his neck tighter and urged him upright, where he barely managed to suck in a breath before our lips crashed together.
It was a rough kiss, my teeth digging into his bottom lip savagely, my tongue plunging recklessly into his mouth. He retaliated by pulling me impossibly closer, hands on my ass, gripping and spreading me open and pulling me in tight. His erection ground against me, and I gave him the same back.
“That’s it.” Tucker’s voice was a low grunt in my ear. “That’s what I want.” And fuck, the words alone spiked my arousal, his tongue lapping at my earlobe, his teeth, his hands, the scent of his skin an overwhelming assault.
I reached between us, trying to shove his shorts down and fist both our cocks at the same time like we’d done in the past, but Tucker flipped the script on me, spinning me around so that he was behind me the way he’d been in the pool, his cock grinding against my ass. It fucking sucked how much I liked him in that position.
His arms came around me, and my eyes started to flutter shut in relief that he was about to grab my cock and finish me off, but instead, his voice came low in my ear. “Not even close to done with you, Whitt. Lie down.”
Seventy-five percent of me wanted to tell him to fuck off, wanted to tell him that he should be the one lying down, but the other twenty-five percent of me—which was comprised of my throbbing erection and the reluctant acknowledgment that Tucker clearly knew what the fuck he was doing—won out.
I stumbled onto the bed, rolling onto my back in time to get a split-second view of Tucker shucking his swim trunks and sandals and his stiff, swollen cock bobbing in the air. Then he was on top of me.
He dipped lower and claimed my mouth, one hand on the bare skin at my neck, forcing my head back, his thumb gliding along the taut tendons. His other hand traveled down my body and gripped my aching shaft.
I hissed in a breath as it slid up and down my length, teasing. He pressed his mouth to my ear again. “We’re gonna do something a little different.”
Before alarm bells could go off in my head, Tucker was sliding down my body, leaving a trail of kisses over my chest until he got to my cock and closed his mouth around it.
If this was “different,” it was fucking perfect, and I gripped the sheets, surging into his mouth and then crying out as a flicker of lightning shot through me when he brushed a finger over my hole. The fuck? “Malik!” I rasped when he did it again.
Tucker popped off my cock with a dark chuckle. “First-naming me again, already? Relax, Bougie.”
The protest died on my lips as he met my eyes and left me in a captivated stupor. He arched a brow before sinking lower, hands gripping my thighs and pushing them wider and up, exposing me completely. And somehow, I was just…letting him.
The warm lash of his tongue raced through me like fire as he flicked it over my hole.
“You’re locked up tighter than a fucking secret, you know.”
“I don’t have secrets,” I grated out because it felt like I didn’t, not with him, and definitely not in this position. The motherfucker could see straight into my desires, and if it hadn’t felt so fucking good, that fact alone would have made me dislike him even more.
“You do now.” He dipped his head and licked a long stripe up to my balls. “I’m your secret, and you’re mine.”
“Fuck.” The word leaked out of me like a deflating balloon, like a white flag of surrender, and every muscle in my body simultaneously tingled and melted. Malik Tucker rimming me in the guest bedroom of a famous producer’s mansion had not been on my list of possible outcomes for tonight, but there was no way I was going to stop him now.
I threw my arm over my face and tried to keep myself from moaning obscenely loud when he paused for a second and blew a steady stream of air over my hole, but when the tip of his tongue dipped inside, I couldn’t help another raspy curse.
Tucker’s tongue flicked in and out of me in a deliciously dirty rhythm while his hands caressed up my thighs, pinning me down and holding me captive as he teased me.
He worked me with his tongue in a way I’d never in a million years imagined, let alone felt, and the thought that this was only a sample of the pleasure to come left me light-headed and feeling the first tingles of my orgasm stir. With a whispered curse, I gripped the sheets and forced my body to relax with the unspoken promise of more to come.
“Shit, do it.” I groaned the encouragement as Tucker pressed the tip of his finger against my entrance, and his gaze flickered up at me, seemingly checking for my permission.
My body resisted the invasion for a scant second and then gave way, Tucker’s finger sliding smoothly, slowly inside.
“Damn, baby,” Tucker murmured, and if I’d had any ability to think rationally, I would have side-eyed him, but he seemed just as lost in what we were doing as I was, his focus intent and steady. He opened me wider, sliding a second finger into me that stung. Until his mouth closed around my cock again.
The dual assault had me writhing, grating out curses and nonsense until the knot forming at the base of my spine exploded with little warning. My hips pistoned into the heat of his mouth, filling it with my release as I cried out.
Tucker swallowed it all, then crawled up my body. I reached for his cock reflexively to get him off, but he shook his head. “Want that ass, Whitt,” he said before urging me onto my stomach. I flipped over, still floating in the blissful haze of orgasm. I wanted it, too. I wanted to feel more than his fingers inside me. As I stretched out on my stomach, I spread my legs to make room for him.
