Page 15 of Claiming the Fake Boyfriend
"Stay on," he finishes, standing over me with eyes gone dark with desire. "I want to see you. All of you."
The raw hunger in his gaze melts my hesitation. I reach for the zipper of my dress, but Tucker gently moves my hands away.
"Let me," he says, kneeling before me.
He slides my dress up inch by tantalizing inch, his knuckles brushing my skin as he goes. When he lifts it over my head, I'm left in just my bra, feeling exposed but empowered by the reverence in his expression.
His thumbs trace circles on my inner thighs, moving higher with each pass but never quite where I need him.
I reach for him, unbuttoning the last of his shirt and pushing it from his broad shoulders. His chest is even more magnificent fully revealed – muscled but not overly so, with a dusting of dark hair that narrows to a trail disappearing beneath his waistband. I follow it with my fingers, then my lips, feeling the muscles of his abdomen jump when I press a kiss just above his belt.
I hold his gaze as I unbuckle his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a whisper that feels obscene in the quiet loft. His breath catches audibly as I lower his zipper tooth by tooth, my knuckles deliberately grazing the hardness beneath.
"Amber," he groans, the sound making my core clench with renewed desire.
I hook my fingers in his waistband, tugging down his pants and boxers in one motion. He kicks them aside, standing nakedand unashamed before me. My eyes widen appreciatively. He's gorgeous everywhere, thick and hard, curving slightly upward.
Without breaking eye contact, I lean forward and lick it away, savoring his sharp hiss of pleasure. His hand tangles in my hair, not pushing, just connecting as I take him deeper into my mouth. The taste of him is salty and masculine, his skin hot velvet over steel.
"Fuck," he breathes, his other hand cupping my cheek, thumb tracing the stretch of my lips around him. "Your mouth feels incredible."
I take him as deep as I can, hollowing my cheeks on the upstroke, using my hand where my mouth can't reach. His hips begin to move in small, restrained thrusts, careful not to push too far. The control he's exerting is evident in the tension of his thighs beneath my free hand.
Just when his breathing becomes ragged, he gently pulls me away. "Not like this," he says, voice rough. "Not the first time."
He pulls me to my feet, deftly unhooking my bra and letting it fall away. His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they're tight peaks. He lowers his head, taking one into his mouth, teeth grazing gently while his tongue soothes the sting. I arch into him, fingers threading through his hair to hold him closer.
"Bed?" I suggest, the word more plea than question.
"Not yet," he murmurs against my skin, dropping to his knees.
He presses open-mouthed kisses down my torso, over the softness of my stomach, to my hipbones. His hands grip the backs of my thighs, urging them apart as he settles betweenthem. The first broad swipe of his tongue has my head falling back, a moan escaping my lips.
He explores me thoroughly, alternating between long, flat strokes and precise flicks that make my legs tremble. When he closes his lips around my clit and sucks gently, I cry out, one hand flying to his shoulder for support, the other tangling in his hair.
"You taste incredible," he murmurs against me, the vibration of his words adding another layer of sensation. "I could do this for hours."
"Please," I whimper, though I'm not sure what I'm begging for.
He seems to know. His tongue circles my entrance before pushing inside, mimicking what his cock will soon do. The intimate invasion makes me gasp. He replaces his tongue with two fingers, curling them forward to find the spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
"Tucker," I gasp, my thighs beginning to quake. "I'm going to—"
"Let go," he urges, then returns his mouth to my clit, sucking in rhythm with the thrust of his fingers. "I want to feel you come on my tongue."
The combination of his words, his fingers inside me, and his mouth working magic pushes me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me, leaving me trembling and incoherent. Tucker works me through it, easing off only when I push weakly at his shoulder, oversensitive.
He rises, lips glistening, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Bed. Now," he says, lifting me effortlessly.
I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling him hard and hot against my still-pulsing core as he carries me to a platform bednestled against the exposed brick wall. The sheets are navy, like the couch, and butter-soft against my back as he lays me down.
"Still okay?" he asks, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. I taste myself on his tongue, strangely intimate and arousing.
In answer, I wrap my legs around his hips and guide him to my entrance. We both groan as he pushes slowly inside, stretching me with each inch.
Then he begins to move, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with deliberate slowness. Each thrust hits something deep inside that makes my breath catch.
I meet him movement for movement, our bodies finding a perfect rhythm. I wrap my legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.
