Page 70 of Vengeful Sins

I keep waiting for the punchline, but it never comes. Eventually, I have to wonder if this is actually true. Now I look at everything through new eyes, breathing faster, my thoughts racing. Is it possible? “Tucker, this had better not be a joke.”

“I’ve never been more serious. This is our home.” He turns me in place so we can stand face-to-face before taking my jaw in one hand and stroking my cheek. “Our house. For our life. If you don’t like it?—”

“No, I love it!” I tell him before giggling and throwing my arms around his neck. “At least from the outside.”

“Then you’ll love the inside.” A wide, beaming smile transforms his face and makes my heart swell. “You want to take a look?”

“Yes, are you kidding?” He laughs when I take him by the hand and lead him up to the front door. I can’t wait. I also can’t believe this, but he pulls out a key that fits into the lock and opens the door. This is the biggest, craziest gift I’ve ever received.

Actually, that’s not exactly true. He’s the biggest, best gift, and he watches me step into the sunshine-soaked foyer with my hands crossed over my chest and my eyes wide, brimming with tears. “So beautiful,” I whisper, and that’s as much as I can get out before my throat closes up with emotion.

“There’s only the basics, furniture-wise,” he explains as I walk from room to room. A big, sunny living room that opens onto a kitchen overlooking the backyard. I can see us having parties here, with friends in the pool out back while I grab food from the fridge, and Tucker mans the grill. I can imagine having movie nights with Wren, sleepovers. Holidays, birthdays.There’s a small room that could be used as an office or a study, followed by one which Tucker wants to turn into a gym, which connects to the garage.

Then there’s the upstairs, reached once we take a sweeping staircase to the second floor. There are three bedrooms and two full bathrooms up here, with the largest rooms sitting at the front of the house, overlooking the front lawn and the charming, tree-lined street beyond it. The only piece of furniture in the room so far is a large bed, but there’s plenty of space for everything we might need. I can see myself waking up here in the morning, with the sun streaming in and warming me. Looking at the bed, I can imagine myself lying in Tucker’s arms night after night. I can see building a life here.

“Do you like it?” he asks, standing in the doorway, watching my every move. There’s something so sweet and touching about the way he looks now. Eager to please, almost holding his breath as he waits for me to give my final impression.

“Like isn’t the word,” I whisper, smiling at him from across the bed while my heart swells until I’m sure it will pop like a balloon. “I love it. It’s perfect. But are you sure it’s not too much? I don’t want you to?—”

“For once, let me do something for you without giving me all the reasons why maybe I shouldn’t. Besides, this is for us,” he continues. “Me, included. You think I want to live the rest of my life with my parents? They’re nice and everything, but eventually I need to move on. I want to move on with you.”

Looking around, he explains, “This place went up for sale and as soon as I saw it online, I knew it was where we needed to live. It’s close to school, close enough to my parents that we can go over there whenever, and maybe five minutes from Briggs and Wren.”

I’m so overwhelmed, I don’t know what to do with myself. I could laugh, cry, get on my knees and thank him.

“It’s perfect,” I decide. “When do we get to start decorating?”

Laughing, he crosses the room, coming to a stop on the other side of the bed before kicking off his sneakers. “You’re thinking about decorating, while I’m thinking about other things. Like christening.”

All it takes is the mention of the word and the look in his eyes to make my blood simmer. Yes, that’s what I want, too. I want to christen every room, and we can start here, on this bed. I kick off my flats, giggling, and join him on my knees, meeting him in the middle, melting against him when he takes me in his arms and fills my mouth with his tongue while his hands run over my body.

“Our home,” I whisper between kisses, almost like I’m trying to make sense of it. Like I need to help myself believe it.

“Ours,” he confirms, kissing his way down my throat. I let my head fall back, running my fingers through his hair, holding him close. Home. A home of my own, with no ugly memories. It will be full of the memories we make together, the happiness and the good times, friends and family. Nothing shameful, nothing heavy and painful. A fresh start.

The more I think about it, the more I want him, the more my hands shake with need as I pull his shirt over his head and throw it aside so I can touch his skin. When he tugs at the hem of my sweater, I pull it off, and he buries his head between my boobs while I laugh, and we both fall onto the bed.

“Down, boy.” I laugh helplessly while he devours me, unclasping my bra so he can lap and suck at my nipples. It’s a little clumsy, trying to get out of my jeans, but he helps me wiggle out of them so his hands can roam my legs. He skims my scars, but I don’t stiffen in shame anymore. They’re part of me, not all of me. A phase in my life. I wear them as a reminder of how far I’ve come.

Tucker is my future, and right now he’s pressing his thickening dick against my leg and making my pussy hot and wet. It knows what it wants, and it wants him.

“So hot,” he whispers, sliding a hand between my legs to cup me through my thong. All I want is to give myself to him. I never regret it when I do. Not anymore, now that I know I don’t have to act out of fear.

“That’s right, just like that,” I whisper, taking his wrist and pulling his hand closer, tighter against my pussy, moving my hips and rocking them while his tongue strokes mine.

“I’m gonna need to taste this,” he whispers, sending a shiver through me that only gets more intense when he adds, “on my face. Do you think you can sit on my face? Maybe while you suck my cock?”

I’m already getting up on my knees, sliding out of my thong, working it over my legs and feet while he lies on his back and unzips his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxer briefs. I pull them off all the way before taking a few strokes with my fist. “Up here,” he urges, crooking one finger to beckon me. “Just relax. Bring yourself up here and sit.”

“Like, really sit?” I find it hard to believe, even as my juices flow, and my body gets hotter, and I want very much to do exactly what he’s saying. But it’s still a little nerve-wracking.

That is, until he takes me by the hips and pulls me down hard. My surprised yelp turns to a long moan once his tongue slides through my slit. He doesn’t waste any time burying his face in me, and at first, I’m too distracted by the heat, the tension that keeps building, that I forget to lean forward and take him in my mouth.

When I do, and he moans, the vibrations run through me and make me bear down on him. He twitches in my mouth, his salty precum coating my tongue. All I want is to make him feel good, to give him what he’s giving me by massaging my clit with histongue, working it deep inside me, grunting and growling and showing me how much he loves it. That’s what makes it so good. That he loves it. That he loves the taste of me.

My head moves up and down as I work him, using my hand to cover what my mouth can’t take. When his thumb starts circling my asshole, it’s all too much, and I let go, lifting my head so I can shout out the pleasure racing through me, making me shatter in the best way. So good, and it doesn’t stop—because he doesn’t stop, holding me down, lapping up every drop of me while I tremble and gasp for air.

Finally, he lifts me away from his face with a long, deep grunt. “On your hands and knees,” he orders, and I waste no time doing what he says. I know it will be worth it. It always is.

---